Zenn Scarlett

by Christian Schoon

  Zenn tried to interrupt. She’d heard this before, from both Otha and the Sister. Her uncle held up a hand to silence her.

  “And what happens then is projection. You know the term?”

  “Yes, Otha, but…”

  “You’re projecting, Zenn. You’ve got a … need in your life, a necessary psychological need that isn’t being met in the way that it’s met for most kids your age. So you see things in the animals, you feel things that you think are coming from them, but they’re not. They’re coming from inside of you. Do you see how that works?”

  “Otha. I understand about that, I know what you mean, but you’re wrong. This is something real. Not something I’m manufacturing because I’m lonely, or cut-off or… crazy.”

  “Of course you’re not crazy, Zenn. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying this is a natural reaction to your situation. To our situation at the cloister. You’ve lived behind our walls your whole life. If anyone’s at fault here, it’s me. I should’ve seen what this was doing to you.”

  “Otha, I’m telling you that’s not it!”

  “Oh? What, then?” he said, exasperated. “What is it? You tell me.”

  “It’s…” She was frustrated too, now, and it made her even less able to say anything convincing to her uncle about what was happening to her. “It’s like the animals… allow me in. They let me in… somehow.”

  “Yes. Somehow,” Otha shook his head. “Zenn, I’m not sure you’re hearing me. You know the science about this sort of thing. And you know what I’m telling you is true. You need to take a step back. Will you do that? Take a step back, look at the facts?”

  She could tell him yes, that she’d do that. But she wouldn’t do it. And she wasn’t going to tell him she would. She was already looking at the facts. But she was failing miserably in describing those facts to him. She turned away, watched the rock and scrub growth passing by, angry with him, angry with herself.

  They drove in silence for a short time.

  “We need to tell Warra about this,” he said then, surprising her.

  “Dad?” Zenn turned quickly to face him, no longer angry, but concerned. “Why?”

  “Because it affects him too. Your life. How you’re doing.”

  “Do you have to? Tell him? I know I’ve been… a little unfocused lately.” That was an understatement, and almost an admission Otha was right about her mental state. She didn’t care. “But… he’s got other things on his mind. You’ve said so. Why bother him?”

  And why give her father a reason to think he’d been right all along? That she wasn’t ready; that she was too young to stay behind on Mars and start her exovet training.

  “Girl, he worries about you. Despite what you think. Gil said the Helen of Troy was going to Enchara. I’ll send off a shard.” Carried aboard the Indra ship, a message recorded onto the holographic crystal data-shard would take at least a week to reach Enchara. It would then take more weeks for a reply to be sent on the next Indra ship headed back to Mars. The delay always maddened Zenn. While the Indra had evolved the ability to traverse interstellar distances almost instantaneously, communication signals like radio and TV transmissions were still limited to travelling no faster than the speed of light. So communication shards had to be physically transported via Indra ship from star system to star system like any other cargo.

  “Otha, I know there’s no such thing as telepathy,” Zenn said, deciding to try a different tack. She knew her uncle’s disdain for anything remotely mystical. She had to convince him she wasn’t going off the deep end or, worse, allow him to make her father think that. “I know things like that have never stood up to real testing.” And it was true. Claims of telepathy had never been shown to be more than pseudo-science, bad experimental controls, or just plain old wishful thinking.

  The dimension-jumping Indra, of course, were a special case. It was known they could establish an elementary form of long-distance communication with others of their kind using the principle of quantum entanglement. It was a concept Zenn had never entirely sorted out in her head. But according to Otha, it involved two particles that were created in a way that makes them act like a single particle, even after they were separated. So, whatever happened to one of these particles instantly happened to the other one, regardless of where it was – in the next room, or on the other side of the universe.

  Zenn knew this unique Indra ability wasn’t some sort of magical ESP. It was straightforward, documented biophysics, directly linked to the Indras’ billions of years of evolution. Indra brains were “entangled” in a way that let them ignore the distances between them when it came to communicating. But believing that a human could telepathically exchange thoughts with another being, on the other hand, was akin to believing in demons and unicorns.

  “I know I’m not talking to animals,” she went on, careful to keep her voice calm, analytical. “But it just seems as if sometimes I’m… extra-sensitive, or the animals are. What could cause that?”

  There. That’s a reasonable question. I’m asking for his input. He should respond to that.

  “I can’t say, girl,” he said, running one hand over his scalp as if trying to dislodge a troublesome thought. “We’ll… run it by Warra, see what your father says.”

  So much for the reasonable approach.

  She thought hard to come up with some good reason not to tell Warra she was having trouble. She could think of nothing useful.

  “But what I can say right now,” Otha said, his tone brisk again, “is that you need to focus on the week ahead. Your first in-soma run is no place for scattered thoughts. You need to be sharp for this test. Especially after what happened with the hound.”

  Did he understand what she was trying to tell him? Was he just dismissing everything she’d said? The truth was she didn’t understand it herself. In any case, she’d told him and there was no turning back now. She couldn’t press the point. Not with a man like Otha. She’d simply have to assemble her evidence, and lay it out logically for him when the time was right.

  And Otha was clearly correct about the coming week, and what lay at its end. Anything less than a near-perfect score on the in-soma test was simply not an option. Calling it “a busy week” didn’t do the prospect justice. But, she told herself for the hundredth time, she was ready. At least, as ready as she’d ever be for this particular procedure.

  The first time she’d laid down in an in-soma pod and closed the door, she realized with a small shiver of anxiety that there was no room to move your arms or legs. The feeling as the cushioning surfaces pushed in on her body from all sides was like being wrapped tight in a high-tech coffin. But that wasn’t what concerned her most about the device. What kept her up at night was the memory of one of her mother’s early in-soma runs.

  TEN

  The insertion of the in-soma pod carrying her mother into the body of the female ultratheer had gone smoothly enough. Looking something like a short-legged, shaggy hippopotamus blown up to the size of a three-story building, ultratheers were huge but gentle herbivores from the lowland plains of the planet Taraque-Sine in the Gliesian system. The problem for Mai Scarlett started in the creature’s second stomach; the pod was being impacted by the animal’s grinding stones – boulders that helped break down the tough bog-ash trees it favored. The stomach muscles spasmed and two big stones caught the pod between them. In-soma pods are tough, but they do have their limits; a small rupture in the hull opened up. Finally, Otha had to fully sedate the patient and perform emergency abdominal surgery to get her mother out. Amazingly, the ultratheer survived with only a large scar.

  It was Zenn’s memory of the aftermath of this event that truly haunted her – the sight of her mother’s foot as Otha carried her into the clinic ready room, the flesh raised into steaming blisters where the creature’s stomach acid had burned away her boot.

  Amid the confusion of it all, Zenn’s mother had called Zenn over to the exam table where she lay and, through clenched teeth, reassured
her daughter that she would be fine.

  “But it hurt you,” Zenn had said, feeling both fearful and angry. “It could have killed you.”

  “Zenn, this wasn’t the animal’s fault,” her mother said firmly. Wincing against the pain, she reached out to take Zenn’s hands in hers. Her mother’s jet-black hair, usually hanging straight to her shoulders, was fanned out across the pillow under her head. Even now, Zenn remembered the scent of her hair that day, like apricot blossoms with a faint tang of antiseptic. “It’s part of Mommy’s job, honey,” her mother said, her dark, almond-shaped eyes fixing on Zenn’s. “We take risks sometimes to help animals get better. Understand?”

  Her father had entered the ready room. He came to stand beside his wife.

  “Mai? Are you alright? Otha said there was a problem, with the ultratheer.” His gaze went to the aqua-plast cuff Otha was applying to her mother’s lower leg. “How bad?”

  “Not bad,” she said, smiling up at him. But Zenn could tell she was hurting, and that she didn’t want her father, or her, to know.

  “Ah, well,” her father laid one hand softly on her mother’s head. “I’ll assume the animal learned its lesson...” He winked at Zenn, trying, she thought, to look unconcerned. “You don’t mess with Dr Mai Scarlett.”

  “Otha,” Her mother propped herself up on one elbow to address her uncle, who had finished with the cuff and was now looking for something in a cupboard on the wall. “How’s that abdominal incision look? You must’ve had your hands full getting that big girl closed up all by yourself.”

  “Hild gave me a hand,” he said. “We managed. And the animal will be fine, just a little tender for a week or two.”

  Her mother lay back down, breathed out a long sigh and closed her eyes.

  “Mom,” Zenn said, “Weren’t you afraid? Inside her stomach?”

  She spoke without turning to face Zenn, her eyes still shut.

  “Yes, honey, it’s always a little scary to do in-soma work, to go into an animal.” She looked up at Zenn. “But sometimes that’s the only way we can help them. The important thing is to remember that these animals are depending on us. When they’re very sick, they can’t get better by themselves. And when I became an exovet, I took an oath. I promised to do whatever I could to help them. And sometimes, that means being a little afraid now and then. But you know what?” Her mother’s dark eyes stared into Zenn’s. “Sometimes, feeling afraid is how you know that you’re doing something good and necessary. In fact, sometimes Zenn, doing the right thing is the scariest thing of all.”

  “And your mother should know,” her father said. “But sometimes it’s scarier for us on the outside than for her on the inside, huh kid?” He tousled Zenn’s hair. “At least she could see what was going on in there.”

  “Dad!” Zenn ducked away from his hand, scowling. “It practically ate her. And you’re just making jokes.”

  “You’re right, you’re right,” he said, but she couldn’t tell if he was taking her seriously or not. “Sometimes grownups do that… make jokes to make ourselves not be so scared about something. The important thing is…” he took her mother’s hand and held it tight in both of his hands, “…your mom’s alright, and we’re here with her.”

  Afterwards, as far as Zenn knew, all of her mother’s in-soma insertions went flawlessly. Except, of course, the last one.

  As the truck rattled down the canyon road that led from Gil’s back to the cloister, Zenn again consoled herself that she’d done all she could to prep for the upcoming test. And the news of her successfully completing her first in-soma run was one message she’d be eager to put on a ship headed to Enchara and Warra Scarlett.

  She rubbed at her eyes, held her hands out in front of her – they still trembled. She quickly grabbed Katie, sat the rikkaset on her lap and kept her hands on the animal for the rest of the ride home.

  They were about to turn into the cloister drive when another vehicle came around the curve just down the road, a plume of dust swirling up behind it. It was Ren Jakstra’s half-track. Almost as dinged, bolted-together and beat up as Otha’s truck, Ren’s vehicle had regular tires in the front and tank-like treads in the back. Recently, Ren had cut off the front half of the roof to make it a convertible of sorts. It pulled up next to them and an arm waved from the driver’s side to flag them down.

  “Otha, glad I caught you,” the constable said, pushing his dirty goggles up on his forehead. Clean pink circles of skin outlined his eyes where the goggles had sat, the rest of his face powdered with a coating of red road dust.

  “This about the mortgage?” Otha said. “I told the bank in Zubrin I’d get back to them next week, see what we can work out.”

  “This ain’t about the mortgage.”

  “Then what can I do for you, Ren?”

  “Afraid it ain’t me you can do for,” Ren said. “It’s the council. They want you there for the vote next week. Want to hear your side of things.”

  Otha groaned softly, squinting his eyes shut.

  “Ren, why do they want me to waste a day doing that? You know the renewal is just a formality.”

  “Not this time,” Ren told him. “Folks are tired of the situation. You may not have the votes you need.”

  “Why? What’ve you heard?”

  “Just that this time, there might be a majority who think maybe you’re sitting on some of the best land in this valley. Land that could be put to the common good, instead of… you know…”

  “Instead of what? Instead of taking care of animals that don’t have anyone else to turn to? Instead of doing what the Ciscan Order has done for over a century on Mars? And let’s say they don’t vote to renew, then what?”

  “Then you lose your lease, Otha,” Ren said flatly. “After that, you know how it works: once I serve notice, you got thirty days to appeal. If your appeal fails, your place will be declared illegal. Then the lawyers up in Zubrin get their teeth into it, and… well, who knows how that works out in the end?”

  “Now what damn good would that do anybody, Ren?” Otha thumped his big hands on the steering wheel. “They come shut us down, sell off the clinic equipment and property and then what? What about the animals? Sick animals? What’s the Arsia City council gonna do with them? They gonna house and feed and tend them while they wait for the owners to come get them? I’d like to see that.”

  “Hey,” Ren held up one hand to silence Otha. “Your creatures would be the least of their concerns. Look, I don’t say it’s right. But they’d have to do whatever was most… expeditious.”

  “Put them all down, you mean?” Otha said, his voice dropping to a growl, shoulder muscles going tense.

  Zenn jerked forward in her seat to look past Otha at Ren. “They’d kill them?” she said, incredulous. “Otha, could they do that?”

  Otha glanced at her, eyes narrowed. He was grinding his teeth now, breathing hard through his nose. “No. They couldn’t,” he told her. “No one’s going to do that.” He turned back to Ren. “And I gotta say... seems to me this whole thing with the council coming up just now, it smells bad. I mean, now that people have abused their own land, poisoned the soil with chemicals and enzymes, depleted their wells? Well, it’s quite a coincidence the lease on our land all the sudden might not get renewed, eh? Very coincidental.”

  Ren shrugged again, sucked at his dusty mustache and spit. “Wouldn’t know about that. But I do know people are hurting. And mad. Mad as I’ve seen ’em. So, you show up at the council, or you don’t. It’s your call. I’m just doin’ my job here.”

  “Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

  Ren pulled his goggles back down over his eyes and put the truck into gear. “Like I say. Show up or don’t. Your call.” The half-track rumbled backwards into the cloister drive, came out again and drove away.

  Otha watched the constable’s truck clatter off down the road.

  “I’m no good with this stuff,” he said, eyes down, the heat gone from his voice. “Warra always handled the
council meetings, mortgage details, the damn taxes. Your father was the main reason we stayed afloat these past few years. I mean, before he left.” He gave her a quick look, then turned away and stared out through the dust-streaked windshield.

  “Maybe that’s what we should ask dad about, when we send the shard,” she said tentatively.

  Instead of the part about me talking to animals and generally messing things up…

  “Yes, maybe.” He patted her leg. “We’ll get it sorted out. Nothing to worry about.” But for the first time, Zenn could hear the doubt in her uncle’s voice, and for the first time, felt a new kind of fear rise inside her; fear that maybe this was more than even Otha could handle. And it had to be handled. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about. She thought of her father instead, but that really didn’t offer any encouragement either.

  If he was here, this wouldn’t be happening. Fine. We’ll fix it ourselves. Somehow.

  Otha nodded at the closed gates ahead of them, and Zenn started to get out to go and pull the bell rope to alert those inside that they were back. Just then, the gate doors creaked open. It was Hamish. He rattled one claw at them in greeting.

  Zenn sat back again, the unthinkable thought burning in her mind: the clinic closed, the pens and enclosures empty. The only home she’d ever known, lost. Where would they go? And the animals, her animals…

  Otha drove into the cloister yard and killed the engine. Holding Katie, she got out of the truck and headed in. Echoing off the high cliff walls on either side of the compound, the distant calls of the clinic’s creatures ebbed and flowed through the afternoon air.

  ELEVEN

  It was midmorning the next day when Otha informed Zenn their supply of dried rhina grub was running low. The grub was the larval stage of the giant Tanduan rhina moth. When dried, the concentrated aroma and flavor made it irresistible to swamp sloos. As such, it was an integral part of Zenn’s upcoming in-soma pod insertion test.