Alysha's Fall

by M. C. A. Hogarth

  Alysha shook her head. “Don’t be silly, arii. Some things aren’t worth it.”

  “I guess not. But some things can also be made bearable.”

  Alysha’s ears flicked sideways and she shrugged into the beaded harness, then sat next to Angel so the other girl could hook the clasps.

  “Steel?” It was the Harem Rose, the Tam-illee foxine with the empty eyes. “You’re up next and Cinnamon’s almost done. Are you ready?”

  “Just about,” Alysha said, rising. She hooked the belt on, smiled at Angel and headed into the hall.

  As with them all, Alysha spent the night with a collar around her neck and her body at the disposal of her “clients.” She wondered where Commander West would place her fellow cadets in her limited world. There were people to be protected, people who abused, and everyone else. Could she help it if everyone else reminded her a little too much of the abusers for her to want to reach out to them?

  Alysha fidgeted as she listened to Blue Team’s planning session. They were again planning a frontal assault . . . and through the new snow, to boot. Her tail twitched, and she looked behind her, searching for Commander West. The man was hovering near Gold Team with an inscrutable expression, and she returned her attention to her team members. Gingerly fingering a long bruise she’d acquired on her ribs the previous night, she listened as they argued back and forth about what to do.

  “They’ll run us down.”

  The words were her own. Her team-members looked at her and Alysha drew in a breath. “Gold Team still has better runners than we do. If we try any more frontal assaults we’ll lose to them. We have to be smart, not fast.”

  The Harat-Shar who’d stood guard with her in the only game they’d won that week looked at her, ears canting forward. “What do you suggest?” he asked.

  His gaze held only curiosity, unlike the wariness or confusion on the faces of the others who were startled that the usually silent girl was speaking.

  “They like to make use of those runners, and a front run is typical of them. We should ambush them and take out the fastest ones, and then we have a better chance of getting to the other side without being caught.”

  “Right. So that would mean the Aera, the little Seersa guy, the cheetaine Harat-Shar and the Ciracaana?” the Harat-Shar said.

  Alysha nodded.

  “How do we draw them out, though?”

  Alysha glanced at the huddled Gold Team and grinned. “I don’t think we’ll have to. If we just wait long enough, they’ll get bored and come to us.”

  “Grand, let’s do it!” the Harat-Shar said. Their team pressed together and he and some of the others prized an ambush plan from her. They sketched on the ground, scuffing it out hastily as Commander West walked between their groups.

  “Time’s up, soldiers. Get out there and let the best team take it!”

  Both teams cheered and split up, disappearing into the glittering snowfall of the playing ground. It took a few minutes for the ambushers to creep out into position, leaving less than half of Blue Team to plant and guard the flag. On the shoulder, Alysha squinted out into the fold between the two territories; the ambushers had gone still and looked like snow-covered rocks behind the boulders they used for cover.

  The Harat-Shar drew up alongside her. “Will it work?” he asked sotto voce.

  Alysha stared into the fold. “It should,” she said. “We have only to wait.”

  “I just hope they get bored before the end of the period.”

  “A draw is better than losing,” Alysha said.

  “I guess. I’d rather win,” he said, grinning at her.

  She grinned back.

  The sun was beginning to pierce the shadows of the valley when at last Gold Team appeared on the rise. Alysha stood with the Harat-Shar, highly visible against the white snow. Behind her, as agreed, her team milled about, trying hard to look like more people than they were.

  As suspected, Gold Team’s scout waved an all-clear and the entire team poured into the valley, yelling their war cry. They’d won so many bouts with their superior speed they had no reason to believe this one would be any different.

  As the team passed the halfway mark, Alysha saw her “rocks” start to move. Then they surged from their positions and dashed into the middle of Gold Team’s formation. The melee was so thick she had trouble picking out any one confrontation, but the Harat-Shar had told the ambushers with a grin to come back with their enemies’ flags or on them. Snow new and limbs thrashed, but when Gold Team finally broke past the ambush all of their fastest runners had gone down and a good portion of the rest of their people as well.

  “That’s it,” the Harat-Shar said. He looked over his shoulder and said, “Canidad, you and yours go!”

  The slender Tam-illee girl nodded. She and the four fastest runners split up and started down the slope, heading for Gold Flag by different routes. Their hope was that one of them would make it through before Gold Team wrested the flag from the five defenders remaining.

  Gold Team caught sight of some of the runners and fractured. Ragged clumps started after Canidad’s group, but didn’t really pursue. Other groups doggedly climbed the slope toward Alysha.

  “What a mess!” The Harat-Shar said with a laugh. “We should have done this from the beginning.”

  “Enjoy it,” Alysha said. “If they’re smart we won’t be able to pull it off again.”

  The Harat-Shar grinned and reached for her shoulder. Without thinking, Alysha backed away, leaving him with an outstretched hand and a puzzled look. He shrugged and trotted back toward the flag, leaving Alysha in the snow, hands clenched.

  But the remains of Gold Team interrupted her thoughts. Alysha spent several long minutes playing hide and seek with their frustrated members, almost losing her belt on several occasions but succeeding in keeping them busy. It was no surprise to her when the whistle blew before Gold Team could take their flag, and Canidad sprinted triumphantly down the slope with Gold Flag in her hand.

  Blue Team spilled into the valley, cheering, and Alysha watched them go. Even the Harat-Shar went down, bouncing and hooting. She stood on the slope, detached from their celebration even as she’d authored it. Gently she touched the bruise on her ribs.

  “All right, all right, break it up! That was better! Blue Team, you only have four laps to do. Gold Team, you walked right into the simplest trap in the book! Go give me ten! Go, go!”

  She stumbled down after them.

  “Cadet, pick up your feet! Let’s see your legs work as hard as your brain did this time.”

  She glanced at him . . . but of course he knew she’d set it up. It was in the appraisal in his gaze, and the challenge. She thought he’d be pleased, but some reservation lingered in his face.

  “Yes, sir!” Alysha said and threw herself into the run.

  Alysha staggered out of the back rooms and into the main room of Phantasies. Her right hand blindly sought the medkit that rested on the top shelf next to the door, the left covering her swollen eye. She could not report tomorrow with a black eye. Cadets didn’t accidentally acquire black eyes, and fighting was enough excuse to be put on the block for the day.

  “Steel, are you all right?” Honey’s face appeared in the mirror as Alysha straightened, a compress to her eye. The beads on the fringe of her bra chinked as she pushed her shoulders back and sighed.

  “I’m fine, Honey. Just got thrown around a little.”

  Honey wrinkled her nose. “More like you got thrown a right hook. Sit down?”

  Alysha nodded and sat on the couch. The two other girls in the room didn’t look her way: the Harem Rose, her body drooping, and Cinnamon, the ice-hard Aera, sat in front of the only viewscreen, listlessly watching the midnight newscast. The girls of Phantasies rarely took an interest in the outside world, and Alysha glanced at the screen, wondering what had piqued their interest.

  A shuttle fell in burning flames from the right-hand corner of the frame. Alysha blinked her good eye and leaned forwar
d with a frown.

  “What is it?” Angel asked from the corner, but Alysha slid off the sofa and walked to the viewscreen, forgetting the compress.

  “Once again, we haven’t had any word of survivors from Flight 4970 from Selnor’s orbital platform. Engineers are saying a rupture in the engine casing may be responsible, and that it’s possible that the entire back end of the shuttle twisted off and was vaporized. This is a terrible tragedy, Martha.”

  “Horrible, Joenith. More on this story as it breaks.”

  Alysha stared at the pale contrails painted against the star-strewn night. She tried to remember the night with the cookies . . . how many games had she played in Applied Tac since then? Two? Three? What was today?

  Throwing her compress to the ground, Alysha grabbed a cloak and pulled it over her beads and bells.

  “Steel?” Honey said. “Steel, where are you going?”

  “No time, Honey. Find someone to take my second dance slot if I’m not back. I don’t care what you tell Tiell—”

  “Steel!”

  “Now now, arii!” Alysha new down the hall and onto the street. Puffing white breath in the cold she sought her bearings, then ran south, leaping the alley wall and landing on the straight course on the other side. The port was on the far side of the city, but there were a few infostops on the way that would be open all night and at least one of them had a Pad. Despite that, it still took her too long to reach the port. The emergency vehicles had long since cleared away, leaving only a few investigators milling around the wreckage of the shuttle. She was stopped by the sheer horror of it: the brittle metal bones twisted like so much wax, the shards of metal hither and yon, each surrounded by a dark halo of earth where the snow had melted beneath the metal’s heat. Gathering her cloak around her body, she sucked in a breath and resumed her search.

  It was a snipe that finally caught her ear after she’d been pacing around the crash site for ten minutes. Jogging after it, she found what she sought: Laelkii, stretched out on the snow, almost motionless. Alysha dropped beside her and tugged at her arm.

  “Laelkii . . . Laelkii!”

  “Leave me alone. . . . ”

  “You’ll freeze out here. Come on,” Alysha said, swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat. The healer’s wife did not sound miserable, and the dull listlessness in her voice frightened Alysha.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “No,” Alysha said.

  Laelkii threw herself at Alysha, wailing without words, pounding at her with cold fists. Startled, Alysha almost flew over, but she grabbed the Asanii firmly and held her while she sobbed and screeched. Tucking the healer’s wife against her chest, Alysha closed her eyes and rocked, stilling the worst of Laelkii’s flailing.

  The wind had long since found all the warm spots under Alysha’s cloak when Laelkii grew quiet. Alysha held her, watching the last of the people leave the crash site, black silhouettes against black ground peeled naked of snow by the heat of the fallen shuttle. She wondered if its passengers had felt pain, or if they’d been incinerated by the force of the explosion that had destroyed the Well nacelles. She wondered if there was an afterlife, and if Nathan was in it . . . angry because he wasn’t still alive, because there were no victims to save. Her tears made the port’s lights glitter unsteadily.

  When Laelkii had not moved for several minutes, Alysha slid her other arm beneath the woman’s knees and slowly lifted her. Cradling the Asanii to her breast she began the long walk back to the clinic. She was aware, faintly, of the complaints of her body from the cold and the strain, but she ignored them. She could hear Laelkii’s occasional whimper, and that drove her on, stone-faced.

  The door at the clinic recognized Laelkii’s biosign and let them in. Alysha carried her into the den and set her on the sofa, tucking several afghans around her. She kneeled in front of the fireplace and fumbled with the matches and starter logs until she coaxed a few recalcitrant names onto the logs. Then she shucked off her wet cloak and crawled onto the couch, pulling Laelkii’s head onto her lap and stretching an arm out to rest on the afghan-covered body.

  How long they sat thus, Alysha wasn’t sure. But the wet croak that came out of Laelkii’s throat bore little resemblance to her usual alto when she finally spoke.

  “Oh, Sungod.”

  Alysha stroked the fire-dried forelock from Laelkii’s face. She did not allow her shock to reach her eyes, for the woman lying against her seemed to have aged decades since baking cookies and laughing in the kitchen only a few days ago. She had seemed so alive then; now she looked halfway down Nathan’s path.

  “Oh, Alysha, I can’t stand it.”

  “Sssh,” Alysha said, combing back the gray hair with her fingers. “I’m here.”

  Laelkii closed her eyes as tears leaked silently from them.

  “I can’t live without him,” she whispered ages later.

  “You can. You must,” Alysha said, ears pinning back in alarm. “Laelkii, you’re young.”

  “Not so young.”

  “Yes so young!” Alysha said, baring her teeth. “Don’t talk nonsense! Nathan wouldn’t have wanted you to follow him tamely into death!”

  Laelkii shivered. “No. But he had no idea. . . . ” The sobs broke loose again, and Alysha pulled the Asanii closer. She hadn’t anticipated acting this role for Laelkii. As she ran her hands over the woman’s back again and again, Alysha sought equilibrium and had trouble finding it.

  After a while the chafe of her dancer’s gear troubled her. She pulled away to unlatch it, thankful that she hadn’t worn the customer collar with the lock.

  “Don’t go!” Laelkii said, clutching her.

  “I won’t,” Alysha said gently. “I just want to get out of this.” She checked the shoulders of Laelkii’s gown and said, “You should get out of that wet clothing too.”

  Laelkii nodded after a moment, and Alysha helped her struggle out of the dress. She undid her own catches and shook off the beads and chains, relieved if a little uncomfortable with her nudity. She slid back onto the couch and pulled Laelkii back into her arms, ignoring the peculiar sensation of another woman’s body on hers.

  It was typical, their silence. Occasionally Laelkii would begin sobbing again and Alysha would clutch her tightly, her gray fur muffling the older woman’s paroxysms.

  “There’s not even a body left to mourn. . . . ” Laelkii said after another hour of quiet.

  Alysha gently petted her hair back. “You have pictures?”

  A muffled whimper and a nod.

  “And things he touched, things he treasured,” Alysha said. “And . . . you have his clinic.”

  “What am I supposed to do with it?” Laelkii asked bitterly, tears flowing over her cheeks again.

  “Be a healer,” Alysha said quietly. “Like he was.”

  “No! No-no-no-no,” Laelkii said, turning her face into Alysha’s throat. Another course of weeping, and then she laid limply against the younger feline. “No.”

  “I think he would have wanted you to follow his path,” Alysha said softly. “You said yourself you studied for it.”

  Laelkii did not reply.

  The minutes dragged into hours. Alysha fed the fire and returned to the couch, always to pull the Asanii back into her arms and wrap her in afghans and her gray arms.

  “I miss him. I can’t stand it. . . . ”

  Alysha only held her fast.

  She couldn’t measure the time passing. No chronolog or clock kept time for her in the den, and the night was dark and long in Terracentrus’s winter. Soft flakes of snow floated past the window as Alysha concentrated on her breathing, Laelkii’s, the damp tears that matted her chest’s fur. Her eye still felt sore, though not as much as it had earlier.

  “I don’t want the morning to come,” Laelkii whispered later. “Not a morning alone. . . . ”

  “I’m here,” Alysha said. “I’ll stay.” She could, if she left shortly thereafter. She’d be late for roll call, but Laelkii needed her. Th
e thought was frightening, distracting, but also soothing. She understood her relationship to those who needed her. It was Laelkii’s sudden transition from normal person to victim that had set her reeling.

  What had she said? “A little bit of Angel and Rispa in all of us?”

  “But you’ll have to go,” Laelkii said, voice rising. “And then I’ll be alone. . . . ”

  “I’ll be back,” Alysha said. “I won’t leave you alone.”

  Laelkii looked up at her, brown eyes bloodshot, glassy. “Alysha,” she said, “I’m afraid.”

  “I know,” she said, wrapping her arms and legs around the older woman. “But I’m here.”

  “Don’t go,” Laelkii whispered, clutching her. “Never go.”

  “No,” Alysha said, her own voice shaking before she firmed it.

  The night passed in fits and starts. Alysha was never quite sure of the time until she saw the windows had gone gray instead of black. She straightened and gently touched Laelkii’s cheek. “Arii. I have to go to school.”

  “I’m afraid—”

  “Don’t be afraid. I’ll come back for you.”

  “Don’t let it be morning. . . . ”

  “You can’t stop the morning,” Alysha said, gentling her voice until it was a hushed murmur.

  “I don’t know how to live this way. . . . Oh, Sungod, Alysha, don’t leave!”

  Torn, Alysha looked away. She was never sure afterward what made her say, “You can come with me.”

  “With you? To the Academe? Would they even let me in?”

  “You can join Fleet. We have a medical corps.”

  Laelkii shuddered and drew back. “Are you crazy? I can’t do that.” She hid her head in Alysha’s chest, trembling.

  “I can’t stay here,” Alysha said after a few minutes. “I have to report in for school. But I’ll come back after the end of the day.”

  “I don’t want to be here by myself. Where he and I . . . he and I . . . ” She couldn’t finish, and Alysha hugged her again.

  “I’ll be back,” she promised.

  Extricating herself from the older woman was hard, not because she was holding on but because Alysha couldn’t bear to leave her by herself on the couch. She found an old shirt and pair of pants in the clinic and let herself out. The cold air hit her like a wall, and her body reported a dozen aches and cramps from spending the night huddled in the same position. And she felt wet and hurt inside, from watching the pain in a friend’s face.