by Zara Zenia
Atropos had summoned a small table, and a familiar paper bag was sitting on top of it, turning a little translucent from grease and smelling of delicious salt and fried food. Amber suddenly felt far more optimistic.
She sat down and gorged herself on burgers and fries, crying into her half-melted milkshake at the wave of homesickness that washed over her the minute the first overly-salted fry touched her lips. When she could eat no more, feeling bloated and heavy, she dragged herself back to her bed and collapsed.
It was the first real sleep she'd had since she arrived on this ship, and she barely moved until Atropos returned, the sound of his wings as he landed in the room waking her. She sat up with a jolt, for a moment afraid that Actian was descending toward her again. Instead, Atropos stepped into her room as, groaning, she rubbed her eyes.
"I am glad you have rested," he said. "We have much to do. Please, get up."
She got to her feet, still too tired and out of it to question him.
"I saw you found the food I brought you," he said as he drew the dark brown cape around her again, fastening it at her throat.
"Yes, thank you," Amber muttered tiredly. "I really needed that."
He smiled a little as he adjusted the ruff of the cloak and her hair to hide her face better.
"Good," he said. "You will need your strength."
"Why?" she asked, yawning.
"Because I am taking you into the market," he explained. "We must find you something to wear for the party."
"Oh." Amber looked at him in surprise as he settled a strange, wide-brimmed hat on her head. "Can't we just ask for something from the computer?"
"Of course not," Atropos said with a frown. "I am clutch brother to the Flight leader, and you are a rare gift. You must be dressed by the finest designers of our Flight. Some rote patterned thing from the computer would never do."
Amber couldn't help being a little flustered by this, and she allowed him to urge her out to the edge of the balcony. She froze there, remembering nearly falling over it.
"The market is all those balconies down there, isn't it?" she said with a frown. "How am I supposed to get there? I can't fly, remember?"
"Our young cannot fly until their pupation either," Atropos replied. "And there are many reasons someone might not want or be able to fly. The ship is prepared for this."
He stepped up to the balcony with easy grace and offered her a hand up to stand beside him. Somewhat warily, she took it, wobbling a little as she tried to balance on the railing.
"Computer, walking transport," Atropos said and stepped forward, pulling Amber with him. She shrieked in surprise, afraid she was about to fall. But she stepped onto a solid surface, Atropos standing beside her with a smile. A glass disk had materialized beneath them, resonating like crystal under the heel of Amber's shoe. Clinging to Atropos's hand, she turned warily to examine it, unable to determine how it was being supported.
"Are you ready?" Atropos asked. "Just walk forward. Keep your eyes on your destination and you will be fine."
Holding Amber's hand delicately, he strode forward, and Amber scurried to keep up with him, afraid of the glass vanishing under her feet. With every step, a new circle of glass bloomed under their heels, ringing musically as they made their way down toward the market. Amber soon fell into stride with Atropos, her eyes wide at the magic of it as they looked down at the crowds of brightly colored wings flying past below them, fluttering from balcony to balcony.
Soon, they were passing among the cloud of people, the rustle of their brilliant wings overwhelming as the wind caught Amber's cloak. She grabbed for her hat with her free hand and stayed close to Atropos's side, not wanting to lose her disguise.
The Lepidopterix they passed stopped frequently, hovering in the air, to talk with one another or shout hello to a passing friend. But none said anything to Atropos or even made eye contact. They seemed to ignore him entirely or, when they did glance his way, they did so with an almost fearful wariness.
The balcony shops of the market were a wonder to behold, as full of riotous color as their patrons. Everywhere there were beautiful clothes, strange furniture, glittering jewelry, and accessories. Amber saw one balcony dedicated entirely to the delicate little silver tools used for cleaning and maintaining their wings.
Styled wigs sat in another, the Lepidopterix's filmy antennae and dramatic neck ruffs combed into strange and exciting styles, inviting the passing customers to try out a new look. There were trinkets and oddities whose purpose she couldn't even begin to determine, though she could take a guess when, as she lingered near a display of esoterically shaped wands, Atropos blushed and hurried her away.
They landed at last on the balcony of one of the more popular shops in the market. Atropos helped her down from the railing as everyone else in the shop seemed to suddenly realize that they'd concluded their business, hurrying out into the market just as soon as she and Atropos had stepped away from the edge.
The store itself was dimly lit, with brighter lights illuminating a handful of Lepidopterix mannequins staged throughout the open space, dressed in dramatic, brightly colored gowns. They sparkled in the spot lighting, covered in tiny shimmering sequins as small and delicate as the scales on Atropos's wings. Among the voluminous skirts, the fabric was gathered into sculpted roses.
Alien floral patterns mixed with vibrant geometrics. Amber noticed a marked departure from human fashion trends. There was little that was body hugging or restrictive. Everything was made with ease of motion in mind. These were fliers, after all. They needed to be able to move in three dimensions at the drop of a hat.
While there were dresses with swallow-tail trains that were double the length of the dress itself, there was no hint of corsetry or stiff collars or tight sleeves. Almost everything had plunging backs to accommodate wings more easily.
Atropos led her toward the back of the store, where a tall, heavyset Lepidopterix with short, dramatic red and scarlet wings stood. She was bent over a workbench, running a small handheld device over the hem of a gown. Amber realized that the thing in her hand, no larger than a bar of soap, was some kind of sewing machine, leaving a flawless row of stitches behind it.
"Madame Melpomene," Atropos said quietly. Melpomene jumped at the sound of his voice, but her hand on the little sewing machine never wavered.
"Lord Atropos," she said, turning with wide, dark eyes. "I forgot you were visiting!"
"You were meant to have emptied the store before I arrived," Atropos said. There was a cold authority to his voice Amber was not used to.
"Yes, I am afraid I was caught up in my latest project and it slipped my mind," Melpomene said evasively.
"Nothing slips your mind," Atropos said in a tone that invited no argument.
"Regardless, you seem to have emptied the store quite effectively yourself," Melpomene pointed out, and she spoke to the computer quickly, which drew a heavy curtain around the balcony, isolating them. "How may I serve you?"
"My companion requires a gown for this evening's gathering," Atropos replied.
"That is very last-minute," Melpomene said with a frown. "I can do it for you, of course, but it will not be my best work."
"I am confident whatever you can create in a few hours will still outshine what any other might make with a month of forewarning." Atropos inclined his head respectfully, and Melpomene's wings fluttered, somewhere between unease and flattered delight.
"Very well, let me see them," Melpomene said, reaching for Amber. Atropos held out a hand to stop her.
"First, you are sworn to confidentiality," he said.
Melpomene looked confused for a moment, then her eyes widened.
"Is this it, then?" she asked, peering at Amber curiously. "The human our flight leader has given to you? Oh, how fascinating! I have never seen a human in person! I mean, no one has, who isn't part of the expeditionary team. Let me see!"
She reached for Amber, and Atropos stepped between them, which brought her up short.
"Are you sworn, Melpomene?" he demanded. The Lepidopterix's ebony skin went gray as she looked into Atropos's eyes.
"Yes, of course, I swear," she said, taking a step back and smoothing out her wings with a nervous, fussy gesture. "My reputation is what I live by. Your confidentiality is assured."
At last, Atropos stepped back, giving Amber a small, encouraging push. Nervously, she removed her hat.
"Oh!" Melpomene moved closer and looked Amber over as the human slowly shrugged off the cloak. She looked amazed at first. Then she frowned, a long-fingered hand at her lips. "Hm. Her coloration is . . . less vibrant than I would have expected."
"She is no birdwing," Atropos said guardedly. "But then neither am I. We suit one another."
"Well," Melpomene said, circling Amber. "Your colors may be a bit dull, but still there is a dramatic flair to them. They certainly suit our glorious flight leader's purpose. But this?"
She lifted a strand of Amber's dark brown hair with a disappointed click of her tongue. "Perhaps if we dyed it."
"I do not think that is necessary," Atropos said, seeing Amber's worried look. "I thought, perhaps, something in blue."
Melpomene considered this, cocking her head curiously to the side.
"You know, you may have something there," she murmured, "And with no wings, there is so much opportunity to experiment with shape!"
"Then you can do it?" Atropos asked.
"Of course," Melpomene scoffed. She made an adjustment to the sewing machine in her hand and began using it to take Amber's measurements. "I can do anything. I'll clear my schedule. Come back in a few hours for the fitting."
She turned away at once, hurrying back to her workbench, which she swept clean with a single gesture of her arm.
Atropos took Amber's arm and led her back toward the front of the shop. Amber resettled her cloak around her and put her hat back on.
"I guess being the flight leader's brother has its perks," she said as they stepped past the curtain, back out into the market.
"A few," he admitted. "But less than you would think. This way.”
Chapter 8
They strode out across the glass walkway again, Amber staying close to Atropos's side.
"I'm sorry for what Melpomene said," Atropos said at they walked. "About your color."
"Oh, it's fine," Amber said, shrugging it off. "I've heard worse. I mean, brown hair and eyes are considered kind of boring on Earth too."
"I'm afraid it is a more serious insult to one of us," Atropos replied with a frown. "Form and grace play a role in beauty too, but color above all. Those with dull colors are considered ugly, less intelligent, even less trustworthy. Some artisans will refuse to work with them. In the past, they could even be restricted from replicator access. There was even a popular movement not three generations ago that proposed excluding certain morphs from passing on their genetics in an effort to breed them out. Fortunately, it was determined that the population would not be able to sustain the loss, or I would not be here."
Amber shook her head, stomach twisting a little at the thought.
"Yeah, things aren't so different on Earth," she said. "I wonder if maybe you picked up a little more from us than just baroque art."
"Things would be very different for me if my brother were not who he is," Atropos said, his eyes far away. "I owe him very much."
Something caught his eye and he turned suddenly, leading her toward a balcony where a craftsman was at work making beautiful jewelry.
"What do you think of this?" he asked, showing her a necklace set with pale diamonds the color of sunlight.
"It's beautiful," Amber said, her eyes wide. "Where do you get the gems?"
"The computer creates them," Atropos replied. "It isn't difficult. There are a handful of natural gemstones on the ship, most taken from Earth, and three from our home planet. They are kept in a museum, however. Would you like to have it?"
Amber, a little overwhelmed, shook her head.
"I don't know, that seems like too much."
"I want you to look your best tonight," Atropos insisted, holding it out to her.
"We don't even know what color the dress will be," Amber reminded him.
"Then we will just have to get a variety of things," Atropos said with a smile. Before Amber could stop him, he'd had a word with the shop owner and began ordering the computer to replicate copies of some of the nicer pieces. Amber tried to remind herself that there was no money here, no reason to feel guilty about taking something she liked. The man making the jewelry wasn't depending on sales to eat or keep a roof above his head. He was making art because he loved doing it and wanted to see people wearing the things he'd made.
Nervously, she picked out a pair of beaded earrings, intricate and colorful. Atropos, encouraged, pulled her on to the next balcony where he wrapped her in elaborate scarves and fluttering wraps made to trail dramatically behind the wearer while in flight. Incredible hats piled high with flowers and feathers and beads were in the balcony beyond that.
They reached the next one, a kind of cafe, just as the chef who ran it was serving a new dessert creation. They stopped to indulge themselves, Amber taking some relief in discovering there was other food here besides the fruit in syrup. Still, all of it was a little more sweet than she would have preferred. She was going to end up with cavities if this went on.
Amber was a little concerned about Atropos, however. He'd been quiet since they went out, restrained. When he spoke to others, there was none of the slightly goofy exuberance she'd become used to. He was solemn, almost ominous, with an air of quiet control that couldn't be ignored.
And the way people reacted to him was strange. They avoided him almost pathologically, often vacating whatever balcony he landed on or at least doing their best to pretend he wasn't there. The shunning didn't seem malicious. Instead, it seemed almost fearful.
"Why does everyone treat you like that?" she asked quietly as they finished their food and lingered over coffee. Human coffee was apparently a fad at the moment, sweetened beyond all recognition, of course.
"It is complicated," Atropos said quietly, and for a moment, she didn't think he would go on. "You may have noticed I am larger than average."
Despite the seriousness of the topic, Amber couldn't help an amused snort.
"Between my size and my coloration," Atropos went on, "It was assumed from an early age that I would be stupid, cruel, and violent. My brother, on the other hand, has always been beautiful and intelligent. He was the natural choice for Flight Leader. But that does not mean he did not have to fight for the position. He made ample use of my ominous reputation to keep his rivals at bay. And more than once, he had me prove that reputation."
Amber paled a little at the thought.
"The impact of the things I did to insure my brother's place as leader . . ." Atropos shrugged, wings rustling uneasily behind him. "lingered."
"I'm sorry," Amber said quietly, unsettled. "I'm sure you didn't want to do that."
"I wanted to do whatever my brother asked me to," Atropos replied. "I have always wanted to be whatever he needed from me."
"You must care about him a lot," Amber said, frowning over her coffee. "I didn't have siblings growing up."
"It is not quite the same as human siblings," Atropos said, his hands flat on the table, the scales glittering in the low cafe light. "Clutch-brothers are rare. Most are not permitted more than one offspring. The population must be carefully maintained. Too large, and we risk running out of space and resources. Too small, and we lack sustainable genetic diversity. Because our sire was flight leader, and because the flight was small that year, he was allowed an exception. He had two mates, you see, and wanted offspring from both."
"That's kind of sweet," Amber said with a small smile. "So, are you the only clutch-brothers in the flight?"
"There are a few others," Atropos replied. "And all the flight are brothers. We grow up together, know everything about one another. But
the bond between clutch-brothers is known to be closer. More like human twins. He has always been beside me, defending me, building a place for us. I was a dull, timid child. I might not have survived without him."
"Is growing up on the ship that dangerous?" Amber asked.
Atropos frowned, clearly unsure how to explain.
"When we are first hatched," he said. "We are larval, developed just enough to survive. Hatching so early in development allows our gestation times to be much more rapid, so we rely on the hosts for only a week. We remain in that stage with very little intelligence or sense of self for several years, eating and growing larger until we reach pupation. We emerge from our cocoons as first instar nymphs, like human children of five or six, more or less able to look after ourselves. After that, we grow very slowly. We live much longer than humans, and we take much longer to mature. When the ship arrives at home world for the previous generation to depart, we have only just reached what you would call puberty. When I completed my adult molt, we were already many years into this journey to Earth."
"Oh," Amber said, a little flabbergasted to think about it. "So then, the adults just leave you? A whole ship full of children?"
"Yes," Atropos replied. "The ship ensures we have everything we need. But it is still very chaotic for a time. Many unwise decisions are made. There is often a spike in disease aboard the ship. The ship's medical facilities are quite advanced and keep the deaths to a minimum, but still, many are lost before their final molt. Only the fittest survive to donate their genetics to the next generation."
"But you're just children," Amber said, horrified. "That's terrible!"
"We are not humans, Amber." Atropos looked at her evenly with his dark eyes and Amber was reminded again just how alien he was. "It is not horrible to us. It is just the way of life."
Still, Amber shook her head.
"What about your parents?" she asked. "How could they just leave knowing you might die before you reached Earth? Didn't they care?"
"My father and mothers raised me," Atropos replied. "They loved me dearly, and I them, until the day came for them to leave. Your parents had no idea what might happen to you the day you moved out of their home. You might have been hit by a car and died the next day. Should they have kept you from growing and contributing to the future on the off chance? We must all accept these risks in order to live in the world."
