The Silver Ship and the Sea

by Brenda Cooper

  She hesitated. “Certainly. Come stand here, so the crowd can hear you.”

  I walked up to the dais, blinking in surprise that I was allowed to talk, my feet unsteady, unsure of what I was actually going to say, but knowing I couldn’t stand there and let Ruth treat Alicia, treat us all, so poorly. I stood beside Alicia’s chair, my right hand on her shoulder. The crowd seemed bigger, almost like a single living thing. At first no words came. Alicia put a hand briefly on my arm, and smiled up at me. I swallowed, and started, hoping for the right tone. “Yesterday, Trading Day, a festival for all of us, Liam and I both felt shut out by many East Band members, and we didn’t understand why. We, the four of us who live in Artistos, Bryan and Joseph and Kayleen and I, have tried to be part of this colony. I believe Alicia and Liam have both made the same choices.” After a moment of silence, I added, “It is the only choice we can make.”

  The crowd murmured, and I looked out across them, trying to read their mood. Many nodded; others looked unsure, and a few hostile. I glanced up, half expecting Jenna to be gone, surprised to see she had actually moved down three steps, and was watching me closely. She nodded, nearly imperceptible, and an approving smile flashed briefly across her features.

  I continued. “Allow us to participate in the discussion about us. Regarding Ruth’s accusations, I believe Alicia is innocent.” I glanced at Ruth, wanting to take her on directly, to treat her as openly rudely as she had treated Alicia, but I was scared to. My citizenship status was in question and I was not yet a legal adult. “In the meantime, surely Alicia can stay in Artistos.” Swallowing hard, hoping I had said enough to matter, I started back to my seat.

  Nava called my name. “Chelo. Stay a moment.”

  I stopped, and looked at her. She regarded me thoughtfully. “Chelo, you say that you work for the good of the colony?”

  I nodded, wary.

  “All of you.”

  I glanced at Joseph, suddenly sure I knew where this was going. After him. But what could I say? I swallowed. “All of us.”

  She turned to the crowd. “Many issues raised today clearly require long discussion, and can be resolved later.” She glanced at Tom, drew her brows together, and turned directly to me and Alicia. “There is a possible compromise.”

  Next to me, Alicia nodded. I didn’t like this, yet the weight of the entire community’s eyes on me trapped me into silence. “I’ll listen.”

  “Much of our data network remains earthquake-damaged.” She pursed her lips, as if suddenly aware of the need to gain the other Councilors’ approval. She looked up and down the table, waiting for heads to nod.

  Hunter waved his clawed right hand impatiently. “Go on.”

  “I’d like you and Joseph and Kayleen”—she paused, looking at Tom briefly—“and Tom and Paloma to go on a trip to fix the network. I want Joseph’s help.” Nava glanced at Joseph and then at Alicia. “And if you will do that, Alicia may go with you.”

  That would get Alicia out of the East Band, at least until they returned in spring. If Joseph agreed.

  “And while you are gone, we will continue this conversation.”

  No! But Nava had me backed into a corner. I swept a glance across the dais. A small smile played on Ruth’s face. Lyssa nodded. Wei-Wei frowned. Confusion and curiosity played across Tom’s face as he watched Nava closely, as if unsure of what she had just said. Hunter’s face was unreadable, Akashi’s wary.

  I turned around and glanced up. Jenna stood, silent, watching us.

  Nava turned to Joseph. “Will you go and fix the nets?”

  My gaze slid down to Joseph. He stood, looking around, as if caught between needing to save Alicia and fear of the data nets. “Don’t,” I whispered under my breath. “Not yet.” If he gave in too easily, I’d lose any chance to negotiate for more. Joseph would want to be noble for Alicia. I glanced at Paloma. Surely she’d see it, she’d stop him, but Joseph chose that moment to speak. “I will go.” He spoke clearly. He didn’t even sound reluctant.

  I bit my tongue. I could have argued for Bryan and Liam to go with us. We needed a voice here, but did it have to be Bryan, the angriest one of us? Was that part of Nava’s plan? And what if Joseph couldn’t fix the nets?

  The other Councilors quickly agreed.

  Tom nodded with everyone else, although he shot another puzzled look at his wife. Perhaps he was unsure why she was sending him away. I thought I knew; Tom supported us, and had done so publicly during this discussion. If he weren’t here, and Paloma was gone as well, then our two biggest supporters would be with us, excluded from the discussion. And more practically, Tom was the only adult besides Paloma whom Joseph trusted. Nava would know that, too. I did not like this.

  But it was decided.

  Nava and Ruth had outmaneuvered us.

  Ruth probably didn’t mind being rid of Alicia, and she’d never had to even defend herself against Alicia’s accusations. She didn’t seem to have expected to. Perhaps she and Nava had plotted our absence in the kitchen this morning. We would be gone, Tom and Paloma, who stood up for us, would be gone, and so would Akashi. The only bright spot was that Ruth, too, would be gone.

  Left behind, there would be only Hunter, Nava, Wei-Wei, and Lyssa. And Lyssa was not truly a champion. She was a devil’s advocate; the best she’d do is mitigate.

  On the way out, I noticed Jenna sitting, watching me, her cloak now on her lap and her chin on her hand.

  I hesitated. People would notice if I sat beside her, but the power of her coming, and staying, was so strong I sat beside her anyway. Everyone already knew Jenna and I were alike; they’d spent all night being reminded of our differences from them. Jenna smelled like cat hide and the Lace Forest. She smiled briefly when I sat down next to her, although her gaze stayed on the dais. In a soft voice, she said, “I will help you.” She and I sat together in the dark, watching others begin to drift up and away. Joseph, Liam, Bryan, Kayleen, and Alicia came up the stairs. Jenna faded away into the background before they reached me, wrapped in her own silence. The others, joining me, watched her leave with expressions varying from puzzlement to avid curiosity. Liam’s mouth quirked up, nearly a smile. He watched the place she disappeared into, as if he were not surprised at all that she had been there.

  9

  Preparation

  We hardly saw Alicia the next day. At Paloma’s insistence, she spent the morning in the infirmary and that afternoon, Paloma took her to retrieve her gear from Bella and Michael.

  I fretted all day. I nursed anger over breakfast while Nava and Tom made lists of supplies, kept the anger while Joseph and Kayleen and I gathered dried djuri meat, water bottles, and large saddlebags designed to fit over the backs and rumps of pack hebras from various storehouses. I hated the idea of Council talking about us while we were gone. Nava had outmaneuvered us, but she had also, ultimately, been clever, and had crafted a solution that removed Alicia from the East Band without making Ruth, an important leader, and Nava’s friend, lose face. By midafternoon, my anger with Ruth still burned brightly, but Nava, I grudgingly conceded, had done the right thing for the colony, if not for us.

  We each had some room for personal gear. I took the flute, packing it carefully inside a roll of clothes, all three barrettes, and some precious handmade paper and pens with colored dipping ink.

  Joseph hardly spoke except to clarify instructions. His mood felt as black as mine. An hour before dinner, I grew impatient enough with both Joseph and myself that I fled to look for Bryan. I had been watching for him all day, expecting him to find us, but he didn’t. Last night, he had simply left as soon as the meeting was over, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched.

  It took a half an hour to find Bryan out beyond the hebra barns, barely inside the boundaries. He was standing near the edge of the cliff, looking toward the sea and the Grass Plains. As I walked up near him I noticed the smell and shine of sweat. “You’ve been running.”

  He put a big, heavy arm across my shoulder and drew me towa
rd him. “I want to go with you.” His arms shook, and his cheek rested on the top of my head.

  I missed him already, missed him even though he was holding me that instant. The four of us has never been separated more than a day or two, for errands near Artistos. We’d never left town farther than the Grass Plains or partway up the High Road.

  I bit my lip. Bryan wanted to make his own choices so badly. When he got angry, I was the one who calmed him, listened to him, the one who held his hand or watched him pace. Who would do that for him with me gone? I clung to him, trembling and afraid for him. After a while, I choked out, “I want you to be with us, too. But you know one of us must be here to hear what’s said while we’re gone.”

  “Nava wouldn’t want me out of her sight. I scare her.”

  Because of his strength. Because everyone could see his strength in his wide biceps and broad back and height. “Promise you’ll be careful? Don’t make anyone angry, or get angry, no matter what they say? Promise me you’ll talk to someone if you need help? Gianna is fair, Lyssa, Eric…try for us?”

  “I wish you were staying.”

  “Joseph needs me.”

  He held me tighter, and his arms trembled a little. “Perhaps I need you, too. I’ll miss you terribly. All of you, but you especially, Chelo.”

  Tears rolled down my cheeks, and Bryan kissed my forehead and my sobs deepened as if a flood of pain and anger was coming out of me, falling from me, falling into Bryan’s strength. And I was always the even one, the one who didn’t cry, who helped everyone else. Me and Bryan, and we helped each other.

  After my tears dried, we walked back, arm in arm, silent. Words would have been extra burdens.

  Nava had cooked a whole chicken, which she served with fresh bread and steamed yellow beans, all things Tom loved. Surprisingly, I cleaned my plate. Throughout dinner, I watched Nava, seeking clues. She maintained a cheerful and empty face, speaking cheerful and empty chatter. I needed to talk to her, to convince her to wait for our return before she made up her mind. As soon as the dinner dishes were neatly dried and stacked, I asked her, “Nava, will you take a walk with me?”

  She smiled, almost as if she expected the invitation, and held the door open. We stepped out into a cool, misty evening. Two moons, Wishstone and Plowman, hung in the sky above us, appearing near each other through an accident of orbits, even though Plowman was farther away by half, and smaller. Night birds sang, and small animals rustled through the low grasses and shrubs near the path. I led us to River Walk Park, not entirely sure what to say. Nava seemed willing to let me take my time.

  As we reached the river, it dawned on me where I had to start, although it was hard to swallow my frustration enough to sound sincere. “Nava, thank you for helping Alicia.”

  Nava walked quickly, her hands in her pockets, her head down. “I believe Ruth. Not necessarily about Varay—she can’t know how he died—but that Alicia is wild and dangerous. It seemed right to buy time.”

  “It will help.”

  “Time will help more if you use it, if you actually repair a good portion of the nets. That will make a difference, and to do that, you’ll need Joseph.”

  “I know.” The first red-gold fall leaves bobbed by on the quiet river. “He knows it, too. I bet that’s why he’s been so sullen all day.”

  She laughed at that, quietly.

  “Why don’t you trust us?” I asked her. “We’ve done everything we can to follow the rules, to be helpful.”

  “I am only a little worried about who you are now. But I am worried about your future. And ours. How will six altered adults affect us? We came here to avoid what you are, to make sure we will never become what you will become. It presents a rather difficult problem.”

  “Have I ever done anything you don’t like?”

  “Not you. As far as I can tell, you are the most balanced, the least dangerous. But you do not remember the wars, the deaths, or the loss. Alicia could have killed Varay. That frightens us.”

  “Alicia didn’t kill Varay.” I realized I’d raised my voice, and bit my lip to keep myself from saying any more.

  Nava’s voice was soft but icy. “Neither you nor I have any proof of that.” She sighed, softening her tone. “But at least she will be under Tom’s and Paloma’s watchful eyes.”

  “I have talked to her. She could not have done this. She’s heart-broken.”

  “Alicia is angry. I see it sometimes in Bryan as well. I do not see it in you, or Liam, or Kayleen. Joseph is angry, too.”

  I bridled. “Joseph is fine!” I was wrong. “He will be fine.”

  We walked quietly for a few minutes. We were already halfway down the river walk, and I had not convinced her of anything. “So we’re stronger and faster. Yet the six of us would not survive without the colony, without you and all the others. There are enough of you to control us. So why are you so scared?”

  “We don’t know who you are. You don’t even know who you are, not really. Look at Jenna. She doesn’t interact directly with us, yet as a single, damaged, genetically altered adult, she protects all of our borders. Rather well. We never forget, however, that she is not human. We don’t know how many of us she killed during the war. She is still alive because we don’t know that, because none of us saw her kill anyone.”

  I didn’t say that I thought she was alive because no one had been able to kill her.

  Nava continued. “But if she can kill paw-cats and yellow-snakes and drive away demon dogs so easily, what could she do to us? Jenna will outlive us all. You will outlive us all. How do we know what she plans? What her plans for you are?”

  That hit a nerve. “She, too, needs the colony to survive. You aren’t giving us enough of a chance.”

  Nava sighed heavily, and took a seat on a bench. “Sit down, let me tell you a story.”

  I settled on the opposite side of the bench, stretching my legs, listening to the water, the distant, faint sounds of people moving about Artistos.

  Nava took a deep breath. “I was your age when the altered landed. At first, we were just wary of each other. It took time for worries to become war. I remember my parents arguing endlessly at night. We were here first. We wouldn’t leave, and besides, we couldn’t. Traveler hasn’t the fuel for another interstellar journey, and besides, already no one knew how to fly her. We could barely manage to keep the skills to take the shuttles up and down.

  “We might have accepted it if they had even simply gone to Islandia, had left us in peace on Jini.”

  She looked out over the river. Her voice lacked its usual hard edge. “I was born here. My parents were born here. Their parents were born here, but had grown up on the living stories of people who were not. We chose Fremont for humans, true humans. You know what we care about. Living and dying as family, accepting who we are instead of trying to change it. Growing to our natural potential without adding machinery or changing our faces, our lives, or our deaths.” She seemed to drift in the story, talking to herself as much as to me. “The stories passed from Deerfly warned us of the dangers of anything different. Original humans no longer controlled their own destiny, no longer led, no longer had a voice that mattered. The world out there”—she waved her hands at the sky—“is perilous. So we came here. Then the things we left behind followed us.”

  She shifted, stretching her arms in front of her, cracking her knuckles. “Those were the stories I grew up on. But they were only stories until your people landed. I don’t think we really believed them. And there were not many altered, around three hundred, but they wanted control, demanded to stay with us, told us they would help us.

  “We didn’t want help.

  “They wouldn’t leave. It started at their camp, outside of Artistos. Two of my friend’s big brothers, my brother, and a few other young men confronted the altered. One altered, and all but one of the young men died. My brother died. And the altered that killed him didn’t use weapons. He used his bare hands.”

  Her voice was higher now, more
strained. “My father was a gentle man. He loved to make things. He helped build the walls, the hebra barns, the water plant. When he came home after working all day, sweaty and tired, he read to us and he carved toys for the littler children. The night the war started, he came home crying. I had never seen him cry. He gathered Mom and me in his arms and held us, and told us he’d be gone for a while, and we must stay inside the walls, and we must be quiet.”

  A moon-moth fluttered near Nava’s face, and she brushed it away, careful not to let it bite her. “For the next three years, he came home when he could. He grew thin. His eyes had changed, or what was in them had changed. Anger and fear and hatred…”

  She paused, ran her hands through her hair. The darkness obscured her features, softened them, and she gulped air, hard, and then gripped the edge of the bench and leaned forward. “He came for funerals. He almost never spent the night in the house.”

  I thought of my own parents, of Chiaro caring for us because they were out fighting the same war, of how seldom I had seen them.

  “And then one night, someone brought his body home. My mother cried for days. I just remember being numb, not believing it, expecting him to walk in any day.” She paused. “So many were gone by then. The first five years of the war we lost over three hundred people, and they lost fewer than a hundred. For years, I expected everyone on Fremont to die.” She stopped, looking down at her hands, as if they held some secret.

  “Two weeks after my father’s death, my mother came to me and told me Hunter had decided we all had to fight. Mom said we would all die, but that was better than living anymore anyway. We packed up that night and left town for the hills. Hunter was brilliant, and brave, and still we lost people. My mother got her wish and died.”

  I reached toward her, almost brushed her shoulder with my fingertips. She flinched and scooted away, then mumbled, “Sorry.” But she didn’t scoot back, or make any move to touch me in return.