Confluence 2: Remanence

by Jennifer Foehner Wells

  Then Jane noticed that the person’s hair was arranged in an intricate many-strand plait that started at the hairline in front and interlaced, hugging the skull, all the way back to the nape of the neck, ending in multiple puffs of dense, curly, white hair that contrasted with the individual’s light-brown skin. Noticing this hair arrangement jogged one of Rageth’s memories. Jane was now certain that Medical Master Schlewan was either a woman or a trans woman, which, for all intents and purposes, meant the same thing. Gender wasn’t hugely important to the Sectilius except for reproduction.

  “Scaluuti! Scaluuti! Scaluuti!” The look on the woman’s face was pure delight and inquisitiveness. She still held the blanket aloft but had taken a step back.

  Jane croaked a greeting in reply and reached for the blanket. Her arm was heavier than it should have been, considering how little gravity there was on this moon.

  Master Schlewan settled the green blanket back over her and frowned. “Are you cold, stranger?” She turned to Tinor. “Go fetch another blanket and some soup for the stranger.”

  “I…am fine, thank you,” Jane replied, her voice barely above a creaking whisper.

  Jane took in her surroundings with. She was in a sparsely furnished room that had an institutional feel to it. Nearly everything in view was a sickly green color—bedding, walls, the clothing of the people. It could easily have been a room on the Speroancora, though the lighting felt different, softer and warmer. That was both strange and comforting at the same time.

  The woman settled her hip on the side of the bed. “Not fine. No, no, no. Not yet. My, but you were caught up the proverbial tree without a wind-whip! You are fortunate to have survived the wilds, but you are quite safe now.”

  “Wind-whip?” Jane inquired, her voice strengthening.

  “Ah! A local idiom. A wind-whip is a primitive weapon from our past. Makes a cracking loud noise to bring attention to one’s need of assistance. The sound travels and travels. I suppose that’s why they called it that. I’ve heard that they are making a comeback, as we have had some difficulty manufacturing power cells since the plague. Do you know of the plague?”

  Jane nodded. She tried to push herself up to a sitting position. Master Schlewan did not assist, only watched her curiously. Jane didn’t get far. Her limbs were working again but they were stiff and sore. She slumped back to the bed, her muscles burning. “The plague is why I’m here.”

  Before Master Schlewan could reply, Tinor burst through the door, sloshing soup from a deep bowl. “Medical Master Schlewan! They’ve brought back two more aliens! They were in a Sectilius shuttle craft. Cornu class. They’ve towed it back.”

  Jane breathed a sigh of relief. That had to be Alan and Ajaya. They were safe. She instantly felt much better.

  “Do the strangers need medical attention?” Master Schlewan asked, gracefully moving to take the bowl, which resembled an overlarge, greenish plastic coffee mug.

  Tinor looked like he or she hadn’t considered that. “I’ll find out!” The child dashed off again.

  Master Schlewan turned back to Jane and handed her the warm bowl, which was full of a brothy green soup with unidentifiable ingredients. “I think you must have a story to tell.”

  Jane smiled wanly. The soup smelled delicious despite the fact that she didn’t know what it was made from. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten for a long time.

  “Eat well and rest while you can. Gistraedor Dux Pledor Makya Sten will be eager to meet with you, especially if these two newcomers are preadolescents like the young man who accompanied you,” Master Schlewan admonished.

  Jane started to disagree, to say that her three companions were adults, not children, but that would have required a great deal of explanation. She needed to save her strength for the meeting to come with Gis’dux Pledor Makya Sten.

  She jerkily raised the bowl to her lips self-consciously and sipped. She hadn’t been given a spoon so she could only assume this was how the soup was consumed. It was intensely herbal in flavor with a gingery bite that tingled on her tongue. Multicolored bits seemed to be evenly suspended in the matrix of the soup. A few came with each sip. Some were crunchy like nuts, others soft like noodles, others more toothsome. It was filling. She drained the bowl.

  Master Schlewan looked pleased as she took the empty bowl from Jane. “I’ll return to rouse you and check your vital signs before your audience with the Gis’dux.” Schlewan left the room.

  Jane felt warm and sleepy. With effort she turned on her left side and let her eyes drift shut. She dreamed.

  * * *

  Jane felt light, buoyant. Gradually she became aware that she was underwater. It wasn’t troublesome to find herself there—it seemed quite natural. She looked up through the crystal-clear water to see white light sparkling through the blue depths overhead.

  There was a light touch on her arm, a friendly gesture. Her long hair swished languidly in front of her face as she turned to look. She smiled. Ei’Brai curled a tentacle carefully around her wrist, keeping the razor-sharp barbs turned away from her flesh, so he wouldn’t hurt her.

  Warm thoughts brushed against her mind. He pulled her into his version of a hug. It amused him, this human gesture, but he liked it too.

  She embraced him, her face resting close to one enormous eye that was of approximately the same size as her entire head. Her hands smoothed over his slippery mantle and she was careful to only apply light pressure, so she wouldn’t impede his breathing. More of his limbs wrapped around her—one around her waist, another coiled around one leg.

  A protective membrane slipped down over his eye. He looked drowsy, and she knew that he trusted her. They trusted each other now. A cool current washed over them, but she felt warm.

  He wanted to show her something. She felt him squeeze a large quantity of water through his funnel, jetting them in bouncing surges toward the ocean floor, arms still holding her close.

  It was a reef, alive with activity. Vividly colored fish darted in and among the living rock. Anemones’ tendrils waved in the current. Everywhere she looked there was movement and color.

  Then she saw one…and another. Little shimmering things. Her eyes widened. Iridescent quicksilver and gold with speckles of bright colors—tiny limbs with impossibly small suckers and barbs, miniature replicas of Ei’Brai’s.

  She clapped her hands together with delight and laughed, bubbles gurgling from her mouth and shooting up over her head.

  Soon there were dozens of them, darting from nooks and crevices all over the living reef, tiny mental voices squeaking an enthusiastic chorus of welcoming hellos. She reached out a finger and one tethered itself there, staring with wide, curious eyes at its father’s friend. They crowded around her, lifting strands of her hair in their jewel-like tentacles, daring each other to touch her skin, to hug her fingers the way their father hugged her limbs.

  She glanced at Ei’Brai. There was a brightness in his eyes that was like a smile. He was so pleased to introduce her to them.

  But as she watched, a shadow passed over his body. The water went dim.

  Her pulse quickened. She suddenly realized she’d forgotten her scuba gear. She twisted, trying to find where it had gone, frantically pushing the hair out of her face as it obscured her vision.

  Her lungs burned for air. The gloom deepened. The water seemed colder than before. Her chest ached. Her fingers tingled.

  She pushed on Ei’Brai’s arms, gently at first, then with increasing desperation, until she was flailing and thrashing, his barbs cutting furrows into her flesh. The water bloomed with her blood, red-black clouds in the twilight. She felt no pain, only cold.

  She gasped reflexively, trying to pull in nonexistent air. The salt water burned as it went in. It made her feel heavy. She tried to cough it up, but couldn’t.

  I’m drowning, she thought, even while she knew that didn’t make sense.

  It was happening to her this time. She couldn’t stop it. She could never stop it.

 
; She sent panicked thoughts to Ei’Brai to release her so she could try to get to safety, but he was oblivious, disconnected, unresponsive. He couldn’t hear her. Was something wrong with him?

  One great whoosh of water through his mantle would send them rocketing to the surface. Why would he abandon her when she needed him most?

  * * *

  She woke with a gasp, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. She was alone. She considered connecting with Ei’Brai just to reassure herself he was okay, then decided that was unnecessary. It was just a dream. She closed her eyes again and slept deeply.

  14

  Jane’s gait was stiff. Master Schlewan said that exercise would improve Jane’s circulation and help her liver clear the toxins more quickly. Jane was a little concerned about that comment. Her skin had taken on a yellowish cast. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she didn’t think it was good.

  Master Schlewan had helped her dress and briefly allowed her to see Alan and Ron, who both seemed to be in reasonably good shape, before escorting her up. Jane had been offered a wheeled chair, but she’d declined it. Now she was wishing she hadn’t been so stubborn. Of course, she hadn’t known it would be so far.

  She moved slowly beside Master Schlewan, who did not comment on their progress, as they slowly worked their way up a low-grade corkscrew ramp that wound around the circumference of this end of the building. Schlewan was surprisingly quiet, given how garrulous and curious she’d seemed to be before.

  As they climbed, the walls around the outside of the ramp gave way to floor-to-ceiling curving windows with views of the surrounding landscape. She realized that what she’d thought had been the ground floor was probably several stories underground. Light sifted down around this perimeter from the upper levels all the way to the bottom through special channels in the windows. It was an impressive use of solar energy, Jane thought. These people did not waste things that were free. It was a very sectilian characteristic to maximize the use of natural light in this way.

  Each level had an opening to the rest of the enclave and was bustling with people of all shapes and sizes. The building she was in was fluid in shape and slung low on the landscape like a stack of irregularly shaped pancakes connected by enclosed catwalks to other organically shaped stacks of pancakes. The enclave was easily the size of a city, but entirely contained and interconnected, separate from the outside. If viewed from the right angle, it seemed to go on and on, swirling buildings spaced out in a regular pattern.

  “No elevators?” Jane said and grimaced.

  Master Schlewan smiled. “Oh, yes, yes, yes, there are some, especially near the elder-community spaces, but walking is good for us and since we dare not ramble about outside the compound, this serves as our major form of exercise. Use of the elevators is generally frowned upon unless the need is dire. It is an egregious overuse of community energy.”

  Jane nodded. Schlewan’s comments cemented in Jane’s mind the community-centered culture she’d seen in Rageth’s memories. That hadn’t changed, at least.

  From time to time they passed openings into the circular rooms that occupied the space interior to the ramp. Most of these spaces were dominated by classrooms, already full of quiet children studying at long tables. Jane noted that their heads were bowed over various forms of paper and books—not some form of high technology. In fact she hadn’t witnessed any form of advanced technology in use since their arrival to the compound.

  Finally they reached the top of the ramp and the first door that Jane had noticed within the compound. Jane slouched against the wall and breathed deeply for a moment to collect her strength.

  Schlewan opened the door and motioned Jane inside. “I will return in time with the wheeled chair. Please go in and introduce yourself to the Gistraedor Dux.”

  Jane nodded gratefully, then straightened and pulled the sleeve of her green tunic over her right hand to wipe the sweat from her face, not caring that it was probably bad manners. She didn’t want to show up to meet the leader of the enclave looking weak, wan, and sweaty.

  She wasn’t in the best state for a first-contact meeting. She’d have to pull from someplace deep. She grit her teeth, then went in.

  It felt like she passed through a wall of humidity. Her nostrils filled with the earthy scents of moist humus. She squinted. The room was intensely bright and warm.

  Every surface was encrusted with plant life. The floor was a maze of scaffolding which held layers of horticultural specimens of various brilliant colors. Overhead was a translucent dome that glowed with diffuse sunlight. Jane remembered that they used mirrors on the roofs of the buildings to intensify the sunlight collected.

  Where was Sten?

  She turned to look at Schlewan, who was now just a squat, dark outline in the doorway. Schlewan gestured toward Jane’s left and let the door swing shut with a shush and a soft thud.

  Jane took another moment to collect herself then continued on, actively attempting to transform into the person she needed to be to make this interview go as well as possible. Everything might hinge on the next few minutes.

  She walked around the circumference of the room until she heard voices speaking in Mensententia—the halting sound of Ajaya’s tentative attempts at the language as well as a deeper voice that drawled patiently and with exaggerated enunciation. The walkway expanded into an open space with workbenches and stools of various heights and configurations.

  Perched atop one stool was Ajaya. Directly opposite her was a tall, narrow atellan whose hands were occupied with tools over a deep-purple plant specimen. She quickly surveyed this individual’s appearance to determine gender so she’d use the correct set of pronouns. A shapeless mass of light-brown crinkled hair shot through with silver and something about the fit of the garment made her think male. She hoped she was right.

  The atellan must have caught Jane standing there staring in his peripheral vision because he swiveled to face her. His head cocked to one side, projecting a very birdlike pose. Jane strode up to him, to stand just before him, and coolly looked into his eyes as a greeting before saying, “Gistraedor Dux Pledor Makya Sten. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  He blinked slowly, looked back to Ajaya, and then refocused on Jane. “Your name, mistress?”

  There would be no formal niceties to smooth the way. Sectilians were more direct than that.

  She steeled herself to drop the bomb. She glanced at Ajaya, who was frowning worriedly.

  “I am Quasador Dux Jane Augusta Holloway of the Speroancora.”

  Pledor stood. Jane knew this was more a manifestation of his disbelief than any kind of deference to someone of equal stature.

  “Did you say the Speroancora?” he said calmly, his words still measured and heavily pronounced for clarity.

  “I did, Gis’dux Sten. My crew and I are of terran origin.”

  Pledor’s ears pulled back dramatically from his face in a gesture of surprise that left his facial skin taut and his eyes bulging. Sectilian ears were only slightly different in set, shape, and proportion compared to human ears, but they possessed more mobility, and because they were set into faces that were so angular, they appeared to stand out far more.

  Jane continued, “We have come to return the ship to the Sectilius people. Our shuttle was damaged upon landing. We will need some assistance in reaching the proper authorities. I am grateful that you have come to our rescue and offered us sanctuary. Before we move on to meet with your government, we would like to take a brief journey contact the descendants of Qua’dux Rageth Elia Hator at the Hator complex. I believe it is near here.”

  Pledor reseated himself after a moment and bent over the densely mounded plant in front of him, snipping off a few stems. He seemed to be pruning the plant into a flattened shape. His withdrawal was not offensive or a dismissal, Jane hoped. He seemed to be deep in thought.

  She hadn’t been offered a seat, but she wouldn’t be. The Sectilius way was to do what was needed. She needed a seat, so she
took one. She chose to sit a few feet from Pledor on the same side of the workbench. Ajaya glanced between them, worriedly. Jane held herself stiffly erect, but surreptitiously leaned her back against the bench. She tried to relax and wait patiently.

  Pledor spoke. “Some of your preconceived notions are incorrect, Qua’dux. Allow me to edify you about where you find yourself. Sectilius is literally divided once again. This is a postapocalyptic state without centralized governance. Every compound on both worlds is governed in its own way. Rumor has it that parts of Sectilia herself are now feudal, though we have no way to confirm this, you will understand. If you wish to return this ship, I’ve no idea who you would return it to. Nor do I think anyone will want it, except to salvage parts from it, save perhaps the Hator descendants themselves who have a strong, seemingly genetic bent toward space flight.”

  Jane opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again as Pledor went on.

  “There is one thing you possess which we have great need of, and with that you may barter for any of the things you desire, including passage to the Hator compound, though nothing will get you to Sectilia except for the Speroancora itself. A shame you chose to land here first. Sectilia would have been an easier landing for you. Rather wasteful to make landfall here for sentimental reasons.”

  Jane inhaled slowly. Things were getting tricky. She needed to tread carefully. “What do we possess that you have need of, Gis’dux?”

  “Power cells.” He turned to eye her. “But of course you cannot know.” He gestured with a wicked, sharp-looking pruning shear toward Ajaya. “Your medical master speaks like a pubescent child, but she was able to reveal that you retain power cells at fully operational capacity both within your shuttle and aboard your ship in orbit.”

  Jane swallowed and sent a warning glance to Ajaya, who shook her head. He’d said “your ship” and “your shuttle,” which meant that he believed she owned the right to them, no matter their origin. That was a heavy realization.