by Fonda Lee
She stopped. “Where are we going?”
“Out.”
“I’m not allowed to leave the hotel.”
“Not without a SecPac escort,” he corrected her. “You’ve never been in the Round before; don’t you want to see what it’s like? It might be your only chance.”
She hesitated, but he knew curiosity would win out; Anya had always been fascinated by the very things she fought against. She glanced down the empty hallway, then turned toward Donovan and followed him to the elevator. The reservist guard seemed a little puzzled, but Donovan nodded at him in an unconcerned, cordial greeting, as if he were doing something entirely normal, and the man nodded back and didn’t say a word as they got into the elevator.
The full-rank SecPac officers in the lobby required a little more convincing. “I’m taking this delegate to the store. She says she forgot some of her luggage,” he explained to Demetrius. “Shouldn’t take too long.”
“Technically, they’re not supposed to leave the hotel. What does she need? We can send someone to fetch toiletries,” Demetrius said helpfully.
“Clothes,” Donovan said. “In her size. It’ll be quicker if I just escort her.”
Demetrius didn’t argue. As they exited the hotel and crossed the street, Anya whispered, “That was a lot easier than I thought it’d be.” She kept glancing over her shoulder, surprised that Demetrius hadn’t seemed suspicious or concerned. It simply wasn’t in the nature of exos to distrust their erze mates. Nor to deceive them. Donovan quelled a sharp spasm of guilt, reassuring himself that what he was doing would cause no harm. He took Anya’s hand and led her to his patrol skimmercar. “Have you ever ridden in a SecPac skimmercar before?” he asked her. She shook her head, her eyes wide, and he grinned. “Well, let’s hope this is the only time it happens.” He opened the door and gestured her in.
Anya stared at the unfamiliar dashboard, the steering column, and the comm unit display, then nervously eyed the partitioned part of the vehicle where suspects were usually contained. She made a small noise of surprise as the vehicle shot sideways away from the hotel on nearly silent micro-fission engines. Donovan reversed the skimmercar into traffic and it rotated automatically, moving with the seamless multi-directionality of all zhree-designed vehicles. Anya clutched the armrests of the passenger seat and laughed in nervous delight. Donovan’s smile broadened; it was fantastic how the simplest things that he took for granted were new and exciting to her.
On a whim, he decided to take the skimmercar on a circuit around one of the major concentric boulevards. After setting the navigation, he leaned across next to Anya and pointed out the window. “That’s where I used to live.” From a distance, only the upper half of the Prime Liaison’s residence was visible—the tops of the white columns and the flags on the roof flapping in the wind. Donovan pointed in another direction. “I live over there now, with some friends of mine. You can’t see it from here, though.” Anya nodded distractedly; her attention seemed to be in a dozen places at once. She pressed a hand excitedly to the window, craning to watch a cluster of zhree hatchlings running along the street to the park, two Nurses corralling them to stay together.
“Are those baby shrooms?” she exclaimed. “And their parents?”
“Hatchlings,” Donovan corrected. “That’s a brood cell, and its Nurses. Zhree don’t have families like we do; they’re cared for by Nurses until they’re old enough to join their erze.” He slowed the skimmercar and directed her gaze over to the left. “That blue building over there was my elementary school, before I was marked.” Despite the late hour, a few children were still playing in the schoolyard. Anya let out a short gasp as a little girl jumped off the roof of the building and landed in the bushes, rolling end over end in the brambles. “She’s fine,” Donovan reassured her. Sure enough, the girl scrambled to her feet and ran back to the climbing tree next to the wall. Jumping off the roof of the school was a favorite pastime of every seven-year-old exo that ever lived.
Donovan took control of the skimmercar again and guided it to the eastern entrance of the Towers. He parked and got out of the car, but Anya remained sitting in the vehicle for several seconds, as if unsure whether to follow. She tilted her head back to stare at the alien spires stretching high into the evening sky, then back at Donovan. “Come on,” he coaxed her. “Trust me.”
As always, a couple of Soldiers were guarding the entrance, standing motionless and fearsomely battle-armored with all six large yellow eyes staring out watchfully in every direction. Anya’s step slowed and her hand, suddenly warm and sweaty, tightened in Donovan’s grip. “Don’t be scared,” he whispered. He strode forward, keeping her alongside. When they reached the guards, he dropped his armor respectfully and made to walk past them into the Towers.
“Wait,” called one of the Soldiers. “Is that human … unmarked?”
Donovan paused and faced the Soldier, armor still lowered. “Zun, this is one of the dignitaries from outside the Round who’s participating in the meetings with the human government this week. I’m taking her on a tour of the Towers.”
“I’ve never seen an unmarked human in the Round before,” exclaimed the Soldier, drawing closer and peering at Anya with great curiosity. Guard rotation at the Towers was a dull, ceremonial duty; there was little chance of threat in the Round, so any distraction was welcome.
“Careful, Wiest,” said the other Soldier, who hadn’t moved from his place. “Humans from outside the Round can carry diseases.”
“Wiv, you soft-hulled idiot, have you ever heard of anyone catching a disease from a non-Hardened human?” Wiest exclaimed in an irritated trill.
“It can happen,” insisted Soldier Wiv. “What about fin rot?”
Wiest’s fins spread in exasperation. “That’s bacterial, and you can only get it from bad algae that’s been contaminated by human sewage.”
“Um, zun,” Donovan interjected. “May I?” He gestured forward.
Wiest stepped out of the way to let them pass, then shot a limb out and caught Donovan by the arm. In a low, confidential strum, he said, “I don’t know if the erze master has mentioned this to you humans-in-erze, but stay out of the way of the homeworld Soldiers.”
Donovan nodded. “I will, zun.” He tugged Anya along through the entrance. Once inside, she let go of his hand and wiped her damp palms on her jeans. “What were those shrooms saying?”
“Nothing important,” Donovan assured her. “Soldiers get bored and tease each other about random stuff all the time, same as us.” He led her more slowly through the main entry chamber and up one of the curving ramps.
“Where are you taking me?” She didn’t sound scared, but there was an anxious edge to her voice, despite the way she lingered and ran her fingers with obvious fascination across the metallic weave of the rounded walls.
“Up to the—” Donovan grabbed Anya by the arm and pulled her aside, ducking into a private eating room as one of Gur’s Soldiers passed by. Fortunately, the unlit room was unoccupied or he would have greatly offended its occupant; the only thing inside was a meal stand with an empty food vessel and tube. Donovan waited until the domed body with its foreign stripes had passed out of sight down to the lower level, then said, “Okay, let’s go.”
“I don’t understand,” Anya hissed, almost accusingly. “Why are you afraid of that shroom if you weren’t afraid of the other ones?”
“I’m not afraid,” Donovan said. “I’d just rather not run into a homeworlder. Some of my friends in other Rounds have had bad experiences.”
“Those shrooms aren’t the same? They all have stripes.”
Donovan suppressed a snort of incredulity that anyone could confuse Werth’s and Gur’s erze markings. “The one that just passed has different stripes. It means he’s from a different Soldier erze than mine, and he’s not from Earth.”
“None of the shrooms are from Earth,” Anya pointed out. “That’s why they’re leaving.”
Donovan frowned. “Soldier Wiest a
nd Soldier Wiv back there were hatched in Round Three. They’re from Earth and wouldn’t be leaving if they had a choice. The High Speaker and Soldier Gur are ordering the withdrawal, even though the zhree zun have—” Donovan stopped, realizing the explanation was not something he needed to go into with Anya right now. “In short, no, they aren’t all the same.”
“What about those ones up ahead?” Anya whispered.
“Those two? They’re fine.”
As they passed the two conversing Scholars, Anya glanced over her shoulder. “Why didn’t you make your armor go down the way you did before?”
“I only need to drop armor to Soldiers of my own erze, and to erze zun—those are the highest leaders of each erze. Or if I’m requesting something from a zhree and really want to be polite. It’s not necessary if I’m just passing someone in the hallway.” He glanced upward; they were almost there.
“It’s so complicated,” Anya murmured. She was breathing harder as she climbed after him but didn’t complain. “Different types of shrooms. A whole world I don’t understand.”
“We’re here,” he said, and took a branching corridor through a wide entrance with doors that opened silently at their approach. Donovan stepped out onto the open-air causeway. It was sheltered, but this high up, the wind was often strong enough to tear one’s breath away. Tonight, there was only a gentle breeze that tousled his hair as he walked out onto the bridge that connected the main spire with one of the secondary towers. He turned around and motioned for Anya to follow him. She did so, moving slowly not out of fear but wonder, gazing around, lips slightly parted, a hand lightly gripping one of the structural support beams.
“The view is better a little farther ahead,” Donovan said.
“Is this the very top?” Anya asked.
“Not quite.” He pointed up to the highest point of the spire behind them. “The top levels hold the sanctuary and the main communications center, but we can’t go in there without permission. This is the best view, though, because you can see in all directions.”
“It’s incredible,” she breathed. The whole of the Round was spread out underneath them, and they could see past the white walls, to the sprawl of the Ring Belt and the vast wide horizon. Donovan led her to the apex of the gently arched walkway. The sun set late in June and the evening light was still making its prolonged departure from the sky, tinting the clouds a rosy hue as the city crept into bluish shadow. Streetlights had come on; looking at them from this height, it was easy to see where the Round ended and the Ring Belt began. Outside the wall, the lights were a blanket of dense bright pinpricks; inside, the illuminated streets gave off one soft glow, thickest and brightest along the spoke roads and the outermost boulevard, so that from above, the entire Round appeared as one perfect, luminescent wheel drawn in white neon on the prairie landscape.
Donovan swung a leg over the waist-high barricade and sat, straddling the ledge, resting his back against one of the support beams, one foot dangling into free space. If he dropped his boot, it would fall a long way before it hit the ground. Anya sidled up next to him, hugging herself against the growing chill as she continued to take in the scene stretched below them. Moving slowly, so Anya could pull free if she wanted to, Donovan put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned gently against him, and Donovan closed his eyes briefly, relaxing around Anya for the first time since he’d seen her at the checkpoint this morning. It had been a good idea to come here.
They watched together as darkness fell completely and the stars came out. Anya edged even closer to him; he felt her breath brushing his cheek. The wisp of hot touch shivered over Donovan’s skin, drawing the thinnest layer of panotin trembling to the surface. He turned his head with agonizing slowness, as if trying not to frighten away a beautiful rare bird that had landed on his shoulder. Anya’s eyes loomed near his. He had never been able to say exactly what color they were; when lit, they had the hue of a mossy stream or a sunbathed rock, but now they were simply large and luminous with the reflected glow of the city. Months of longing shrank to the space of a heartbeat that hung between them. He leaned in and kissed her.
Their mouths came together with less frantic exuberance than before, but if anything, the intensity was greater, more insistent and questing. Anya leaned slightly over him, tilting his head back against the beam behind them, her lips and tongue burning his, her face and hair filling his vision. Heat coursed through Donovan’s body in a dizzying wave. He gripped the solid ledge beneath him with his legs, afraid for a second that overwhelming sensation would sway him off his perch and send him tumbling off the Towers. Anya clutched the front of his shirt; his hands slipped under hers and pressed against the small of her back, pulling her closer.
When they drew apart, he held her against his chest for a few breathless seconds, then kissed her again, more gently and for longer. He had no idea how much time passed, but he could stay up here for hours, enjoying the nighttime view over the Round and kissing Anya.
“When this summit is over, I don’t want us to disappear into our own lives again,” he whispered when at last they paused to gather themselves. “Maybe Xs on a post wasn’t the cleverest idea, but there has to be a different way we could stay in touch. Could we do that?” If they could be friends—real friends, maybe more, and not just … whatever this was—maybe they could have more moments like this, moments that brought them closer together instead of further apart.
Anya hesitated. She licked her lips, her face still inches from his. “You’re a stripe; you know how good Sapience operatives stay off the radar. We change locations a lot and never keep permanent addresses or contact information.” Donovan was disappointed, if unsurprised, by her answer, but then Anya rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a slightly bent business card. “The Human Action Party has an office—a legit, real working office in the Ring Belt. They don’t collect or give out personal information about members, but unofficially, they’ll pass messages. It’s not perfect, but if you’re serious about wanting to get in touch with me …” She looked down at the card in her hand for a minute, then handed it to him with an almost embarassed expression.
He slipped the card into his back pocket and smiled. “Took me long enough to get your number, didn’t it?” He craned in again and kissed the corner of her mouth. “To be fair, this is the first time we’ve been together and neither of us is in mortal danger.”
Anya’s lips fought a smile. She rested a hand on the back of his neck and stretched her fingers up into his hair, her touch sending a pleasant electric feeling tingling into his nodes and up his scalp. A few miles away, a bright light shot silently into the sky like a launched firework.
Anya drew in a breath. “What’s that?”
“Looks like it came from the commercial landing fields,” he said. “Probably a cargo vessel. They bring in supplies and goods from other planets and carry out seeds and wood and algae and other stuff we export.” He pointed elsewhere. “Over there are the military shipyards. When I was a kid I used to imagine piloting a fighter craft. Humans can’t fly them yet, but there’s talk about changing that, redesigning the controls so that maybe in a few years …” He trailed off. For a short while, he’d blissfully forgotten that no one knew what would happen in a few years, not anymore. The planned withdrawal of the zhree from Earth meant things he’d counted on all his life were no longer true.
He shook his head as if he could dislodge unwelcome reality from his mind for the time being and turned his attention back to the view. “You see all those funny-shaped buildings that look like globs stuck together? That’s typical zhree housing. That forest is part of the city park. And that’s SecPac Central Command over there.”
Anya was quiet for a long time. “Do you ever feel guilty?”
He turned his face toward her. “About what?”
“About living here, in this place. About being an exo.” She spoke softly, as if asking in mere curiosity, but he could sense the undercurrent of bitterness. “Do you ever think abou
t how many people aren’t like you, how everything you enjoy comes at a price for all the people who don’t have what you do?” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Does it ever bother you?”
For a moment, Donovan didn’t know how to answer. Somewhere inside him, it seemed as if a window cracked open onto winter. The warmth began seeping out of him and a cold foreboding drifted in to take its place. Slowly, he said, “I patrol the Ring Belt nearly every day, protecting people whether they live in the Round or not. I’ve been to places all over the country and more than a few around the world. I know there are all sorts of people out there, marked and unmarked. Yes, I feel fortunate. But that’s different from feeling guilty.”
“Can’t you see?” Anya’s throat moved in a swallow as she stared out at the Round. “This is an amazing place, but most people will never see it. The shrooms built it for themselves, and for people like you. Not for the rest of us.” She drew in a breath that seemed to be pulled from deep inside her chest. She stepped away from him, opening a handsbreadth of space that felt like an arctic mile. “The world is wrong. Unfair, and wrong.”
Tension climbed up Donovan’s neck and into his jaw. “I know there are lots of ways the world ought to be better. But the way to solve those problems is by going forward, not backward.” Donovan’s father had used the exact same words on many occasions, but even the oddness of hearing them come from his own mouth didn’t stop him. “The world was unfair long before the Landing. I suppose you and your fellow sapes think that after the zhree leave, we should tear down all of this.” He gestured expansively, angrily, at the Round—his home, everything he’d grown up with and valued. “Do away with erze markings, and Hardening, and interstellar trade, and everything else gained in the last hundred years.”
“Maybe that’s the only way for us to be truly free.”
“Through anarchy and chaos and cleansings?”
“It’s the fault of the shrooms that we are the way we are.” Anya’s eyes blazed. “If we can’t manage without them when they’re gone—then that’s their fault too.”
