by Emanuel, Ako
The chime sounded again, signaling the end of the lecture, and meal-time. He sighed as he gathered up his view-glyphographic, his satchel, and his texts, and prepared himself for another awkward, harrowing meal, enduring her advances. Ro-Becilo’Ran was not in this lecture with him. That meant he had to get by Gotra Pelani’Dun by himself, as she had managed to get to the exit first. But when he got to the entrance, she was nowhere to be seen.
Whorl Sixteen
In the meal hall, Ro-Becilo’Ran waved to him, and he went over to the seat his friends had saved for him. Gotra Pelani’Dun was not there, at the crowded table, but was seated farther away. Breathing a sigh of relief, he sat and smiled. His elytra-pace, clamped tight with stress, relaxed.
“Oh ha, Kreceno’Tiv,” Thynnu Alciai’Res said, smiling back at him. “You look good.”
He gestured self-deprecatingly. “As opposed to short and under-developed?”
She clacked her elytra-pace, turned a shoulder. “You still looked good, short. You were just so – involved with Gotra Pelani’Dun, none of the rest of us had a chance to fix your interest!”
He raised a vuu-brow at her, un-tucked a vuu’erio tennae. Her scent was sweet, and subtle, inviting. “And do you want to fix my interest?” he asked, intrigued. She was pretty, and smart – he would not mind a pre-mating with her, though he doubted it would go anywhere. The prospect of Tertius generally terminated many pre-matings.
“Perhaps,” she said, coyly, waving her vuu’erio tennae at him, her scent becoming a little stronger. He let himself react to it, taking on the faint blue and black Thynnu markings that would match her. Then she threw a look over her shoulder at Gotra Pelani’Dun, and her scent faded. “Though, I’m not sure I want to brave Gotra anger. But for you – perhaps.”
He smiled thinly, feeling anger bubble up again as the color and physique changes went away. Now Gotra Pelani’Dun was affecting his chances with other girls? He wanted to clack his elytra-pace in that anger, but he did not. Instead he turned his mind to what the others in the group were talking about. Maybe Thynnu Alciai’Res would pursue her interest of him, despite Gotra Pelani’Dun’s interference.
“And you should see the newest exhibits at Bustani,” Yaliano’Wis was saying, his vuu’erio tennae waving. “They have sentients from other worlds there! You can actually talk to them, though they can’t speak a word of our language!”
Sentients? Kreceno’Tiv felt a strange, unpleasant jolt at that, anger forgotten. That sounded a little too much like mfanya-slaves from the long-ago times. But he said nothing, not right then, too shocked to think of anything to say.
Whorl Seventeen
“Krece,” a soft voice said behind him, as he made his way to his locked cubby at the end of another long five-turn, to leave the texts he did not require here at the Secondus sub-Hives. He stiffened. An icy-hot indignation made his elytra-pace tighten at the familiar voice and the too-familiar appellation. Gotra Pelani’Dun. He did not react to her chemi-scent marker, but he did react to being addressed so, by her. She had once had the freedom to use the affectionate appellation. But she had ended their relationship, and now had no right to call him that, since he was not Gotrar-marked or physiqued for her anymore. It was unseemly, disrespectful, implying a closeness that was no longer there. The disapprobation he felt projected clearly, as he slowly opened the cubby, put his texts in, closed it, and turned to face her.
Gotra Pelani’Dun looked abashed at his scowl of disapproval, taking a step back. “Kreceno’Tiv,” she said more formally, lifting her shoulders in a contrite gesture. This made other parts of her anatomy rise and move, but he was not distracted by them, and kept his eyes on her face. “I-I wanted to talk to you...” she stammered. She was not putting out the copious amounts of pheromone anymore, having figured out that that would not get his attention. Being called a near-wanton had been an effective deterrent, also.
“What about, Gotra Pelani’Dun?” he said, as formally, coldly, picking up his carry-pack, meaningfully, implying that he wanted to be on his way to the transport, and home. And away from you.
“You know, since we met up at the Bustani line, I’ve been thinking about you a lot, lately,” she said, tilting her head and waving her vuu’erio tennae in what was supposed to be a charming pose, no doubt. It was charming, but Kreceno’Tiv was not about to be charmed by her again. Easily one of the prettiest young women in his term-level, she was frivolous and shallow, and cared only about being the center of attention. “I – I think I made a mistake. And I wanted to say – I’m sorry about... about being so – hasty to pick another over you.”
“No need,” he said tightly, walking by her. “I’d suggest you keep looking. No doubt another male will come along who has some other attribute more developed than any of mine, so you need only wait.”
She gasped as if slapped, then ran up to walk rapidly, paralleling him. “That was hurtful, Kreceno’Tiv! Was I ever so cruel?” Her tone was wounded.
He stopped, indignation and ire making his chest tight. His elytra-pace clacked, as the developing wing-nets moved in agitation underneath. “Were you?! You told me I was an unmarked bobling on my mother’s knee still, in body, and a silver-winged eldster, in mind! You told me that you needed someone who was already a man, not a mumphling playing at being one! What happened to your stone-headed hulkling, all bulging with muscle and only able to say the word ‘pretty’ once you had sounded it out for him?”
She stared at him, wide-eyed, as if stunned. The few others in the rotunda stopped to take in the drama, angering him further. Then her large, magenta eyes began to fill with tears. Kreceno’Tiv clenched his jaw, and walked past her once more. He had not wanted a spectacle, though it was obvious that she did. What, did you think I would not dare to publicly reject you, the way you rejected me? he thought angrily, his back burning with the wondering gazes of the spectators. He began walking again.
“Oh, you think just because your mother’s Genus and famiya can trace their lineage back to the times before the Malkia-dominance that you’re too good for me?” she said in tearful wrath, still following him, her voice loud enough to carry. “Now that every other girl in Secondus is gloming their pheromones after you, you forget about me?”
The words were not worthy of an answer. He did not respond.
“You think that just because everyone now knows that your famiya sits on the Second Tier in the Solidarim that you can just treat the rest of us like workers, like mfanya?!” she cried.
He felt rage rise, but ruthlessly suppressed it, turned, not even projecting the opprobrium this time. She stopped short, and even took a step back when he faced her.
“I am not treating anyone like anything, Gotra Pelani’Dun,” he said quietly, looking down at her as he squared his shoulders. When they had been Geni’vhes, he had been the same height as she. Now, he was at least a head taller. “It’s no secret that my father is part of the Solidarim. As to my mother’s Genus and famiya predating the Malkia, whatever significance that has, has nothing to do with the fact that you broke off our pre-mating, not me. If that had been so important to you, maybe you should have found that out before you passed me over for your stone-headed hulk. Why don’t you find out how far back his mother’s Genus and famiya go, and then go bother him light and dark-turn? I have to get home.”
There were gasps and soft exclamations at his rebuke. He ignored them as he walked stiffly to the transport, hiding his embarrassment, not letting it show in his glyph. Besides the Bustani, personal dramas were always a main source of entertainment.
There were not many seats left on the transport, when he got to it. Ro-Becilo’Ran was in the back, talking and laughing with another of their friends. Evidently, they had not been able to hold a seat for him. He took one of the more forward ones and sat beside a young woman he did not know, turned his face to the window membrane as Gotra Pelani’Dun got on after a couple of other people. She intentionally bumped his leg, and made a complaining sound, as if he had
somehow hurt her. He moved his leg, glad that he was ahead of her on the transport – he could get off first, and not have to deal with her again, at least not for this turn.
Whorl Eighteen
Much as he did not want to admit it, Gotra Pelani’Dun’s words bothered him. But he did not feel he could come right out and ask his parents the significance of their lineage – it was an obvious question, blunt. Uncouth. They disapproved of such things from being associated for many orbises with the Solidarim, where subtlety and nuance were like shouts, and obviousness was looked down upon as vulgar.
Karaci’Tiv, perhaps? he thought, getting up from his study-station and going to his sister’s suite. She was in, rather than being away at Tertius, and she invited him in.
“Kara,” he said, entering her suite. She smiled at the familiar address and gestured, beckoning him over.
“What’s going, Krece?” she said, as he walked over to take a seat by her.
He did not answer right away, brooding on how to frame the question. She was in training to go into the Solidarim, also. Would she find a straightforward question too gauche?
She glanced at him, and he could feel her gaze as she stopped what she was doing, and turned her attention fully to him. “What is it you want to ask?” she prodded, a chuckle in her voice and a glyph of amusement projecting clearly from her.
“I’m trying to figure out how to ask it,” he replied.
She gestured negation. “Just ask. I’m not a stickler for subtlety, yet!”
“You remember Gotra Pelani’Dun?” he said slowly, not letting the irritation he felt at mentioning her show.
“The little one who had you so twisted up last term?” she asked, indelicately.
He grimaced. Vespa Karaci’Tiv could be blunt to the point of crassness, sometimes. That would not go over well in the Solidarim.
“That’s the one,” he confirmed. “She said – she said that I was snubbing her because our famiya predates even – even the Malkia-mothers, and because Father sits on the Second Tier of the Solidarim. What – what is the significance of that?”
Vespa Karaci’Tiv sat back, her vuu’erio twitching.
“Your ex-Geni’vhes has done some very personal and very extensive research into our famiya,” she said slowly, “or someone close to her has. We never make it well known that either of those things are true.” She blew out a breath, and her wing-nets, having burst through the elytra-pace when she had reached full maturity, showed for a moment. “The significance of our famiya lineage – having an unbroken line for that long, and not being a deviate Genus from another, existing line – means that our Nil’Gu’ua ability has been advancing and augmented for all those generations, and we have a high probability of being in the higher ability-levels. It also has weight in the Solidarim, since one of the determining factors of – of placement in the Solidarim Tiers is not only ability level but – other things.” She flicked one of her right vuu’erio at him significantly.
“So – Mother’s line is that venerable, and that counts for something,” he mused, still not fully understanding.
“It also means that anyone of higher level Nil’Gu’ua will not be – the only one in the famiya. It means high ability over generations, regardless of who mates into the famiya line.” She dropped her eyes.
His vuu-brows drew together. He knew that Nil’Gu’ua was carried by the matriarchal line, and that males mating into that line did not significantly affect it. But her tone – there was more, much more.
“There’re other significances, aren’t there,” he stated, certain. “Having to do with the Malkia-mothers? And our line coming from before their time?”
“There are,” she said, tilting her head, “but I’ll leave you to discover them for yourself. Sometimes the significance can only be appreciated when the information is hard-won.”
Kreceno’Tiv flicked his vuu’erio in half-irritation, half-amusement and clacked his elytra-pace. “Yes, sister of mine, thank you for putting me on the path to understanding,” he said, mockingly, making a formal gesture of appreciating and parting.
She raised a vuu-brow. “Indeed, brother. My regards,” she answered as formally, but a faint glyph of internal laughter showed through her mock-reserved demeanor.
Whorl Nineteen
Kreceno’Tiv blew out an astonished breath.
So – Mother’s line could have ascended to the ranks of Malkia-mothers, he mused, bemused. Her ancestors of the Vespa Tiv famiya had the Nil’Gu’ua and the powerful, attractive pheromones. But they had chosen not to try to dominate, as the Malkia-mothers had done, but to just keep their Genus-lines intact. And they had survived the Unification without the massacre of their children or the reduction of their numbers that the Malkia had suffered.
Not many families can say the same. The few direct descendants of the Malkia have kept to themselves, placing high in the Solidarim, but not being obtrusive in their actions. They don’t want anyone reminded of their fore-mothers’ reign. But our famiya doesn’t have that stigma. And – all of us have retained the high Nil’Gu’ua levels, and have probably progressed higher over the generations.
Was that the real reason that Gotra Pelani’Dun had tried to fix his interest again? That and because I rival her other suitor, now, physically? How did she find this out? Or – was it her parents who found out, and wanted her to try to reengage me? The full implications had not fully come together in his mind, yet, but they had obviously occurred to someone in the Gotra Dun-famiya. Were there any Dun in the Solidarim? He began to dig, though finding the names of the Solidarim Counselors was not hard.
Huh, there are Dun in the Solidarim, but nothing above the tenth Tier. And it has been that way for many generations. Were they hoping that snaring him would introduce some of the Tiv veneration and Nil’Gu’ua into their line, and in turn that would increase their consequence, even if it were not directly by the matriarchal line? Heh, were they thinking of sending me to the Solidarim to represent their famiya, and hope that the Tiv additive to the Dun would boost their standing? No doubt, if I had been a daughter, they would have sent a son to me. But daughters have the power to attract, not sons. Did they try to put someone in Karaci’Tiv’s way? I almost know for certain they did. But she chose her own pre-mating interest, and his famiya name was not Dun. They would have had an easier time snaring me. She must have really ruined a well-laid plan when she let go of me! But Mother and Father did not object to her – maybe they knew we would not get past pre-mating?
Either way, he was glad and grateful to be free of her famiya’s designs. The experience had not been pleasant, but it had taught him something important.
Whorl Twenty
Gotra Pelani’Dun was present on the transport the next turn after the end-turns, but she maintained a wounded silence, and almost studiously ignored him. She did not even put out a single pheromone trail, though she did make a point of sitting across from him and Ro-Becilo’Ran, and turning her shoulder so that her bright Gotra-marked elytra-pace faced them. She seemed to be enjoying the sensation she was creating, listening attentively to her friends.
Others on the transport were watching, to see if the drama between them would continue. But Kreceno’Tiv tucked his vuu’erio away, and ignored the stares and the obvious glyphs of curiosity. Several other girls were putting out faint trails, possibly for him, but he suppressed any reaction to them. Ro-Becilo’Ran looked around with high amusement, his eyes bright and his vuu’erio tennae waving, taking in all the tension and attention and expectation. He glanced at Kreceno’Tiv several times, but Kreceno’Tiv ignored him, too, keeping his eyes on his view-glyphographic as the transport crept through the early crush.
“Yes?” his friend said, finally, nudging him. “You, studying? Since when?”
“I’m working on a personal endeavor,” he said, shrugging. “Famiya lineage.”
Many in attendance to their conversation sharpened at that, and the looks all turned to Gotra Pelani’Dun to see her
reaction. She apparently could not help herself – she flinched, her elytra-pace contracting. But she did not turn around, not that he wanted her to.
“In truth?” Ro-Becilo’Ran could not help himself, either. He took the bait willingly, even raised his voice a little. “Whose famiya?”
“Mine, of course, numb-pace,” Kreceno’Tiv said, with the specter of a glyph of exasperation. “Whose else would I be interested in?”
“None others, I should think,” Ro-Becilo’Ran replied, his voice merry at being part of the spectacle.
Kreceno’Tiv raised a shoulder noncommittally, and went back to his graphic.
“What’s so special about his famiya?” he heard someone ask, a feminine voice, bright with interest.
“I couldn’t say, but someone made a point of bringing it up,” another answered. There was a glyph of laughter there.
A cloud of pheromone drifted toward him, and he held in a shiver, suppressed the urge to respond to it even more, though it was subtle and enticing. His vuu’erio tucked in so tight it almost hurt, but he did not change in physique to match whomever it was sending the gloming to him. There was a sound of mildly incredulous surprise when he did not look up to see if the trail was for him, though Ro-Becilo’Ran did not resist, his Ropalir-induction response wavering to match the Lisso-marker and his head turning around, seeking the girl who was summoning. Other males around him had a similar reaction, though those close to their Geni’vhes did not react quite as strongly.
He felt hot eyes on him. Gotra Pelani’Dun. Seeing if I’m going for someone else? he thought sourly.
“He really does think he’s too good for anyone,” a girl’s voice whispered.
“No, Pelani’Dun has been gloming him so much, he’s shut himself off completely because of it,” another girl excused him. “She was gloming so much that my brother almost fell on her. It’ll take a while for him to get past it.”
