Wings of Creation

by Brenda Cooper

  So I focused and let go at once. There are no words that really tell how to let go. It’s being loose and tight, heavy and light as air.

  Paula’s history and her being and her needs filled me even while the pulse of blood in a vein or the flash of a neuron attracted my attention. A universe inside a woman’s body. No wonder Marcus had thought a plant too much not long ago. Life was big and chaotic. Intricate magic.

  Flier children were born from normal mothers and then changed. Paula had the right parts for sex, canted at slightly different angles since no flier could ever lie on their back without crushing wings, except in special harnesses. But sex didn’t need the parts for reproduction. Paula’s uterus and ova had been shriveled to nothing. Thankfully, not removed entirely. We built and strengthened, reminded the organs what they had been meant to become. This building and rebuilding was completely separate from any part of my sexual or love life, not relatable in my head to Alicia or Kayleen or my own parents or sex or birth.

  Even though we had done this part before, it was different. It came more easily, almost a dance; still exhausting. It had taken hours before, but now it went fast, maybe just minutes. Hard to tell. I could feel it all working, feel us as part of a change that made her better and stronger. Beyond that, too: heart, blood, breath, nerves firing, and even hope. Feeling hope in a sim gave me hope, and better, looped it among the three of us.

  Intuition: the emotion of the Maker at the point of his creation matters. It affects the outcome.

  Once the structural changes took in proteins and cells (new instructions placed in the building blocks of her), her glands needed balancing.

  This was the point where the last two sims had begun to die on us. Runaway hormones made weak bones and unbalanced growth, and affected the delicate bodies of fliers more than normal humans. Emotions had become unrecognizable, had eaten the health of the sims.

  But this, too, came more easily. We worked through glands and endocrine systems together, adjusting and testing and redoing. This part felt even harder; something a woman should do. My own internal balances weren’t the same. Trying to pull Kayleen into the work failed; she was too insubstantial at these speeds and depths, a wraith with us but not with us. Faint.

  Trust yourself.

  Easy for him to say. Even if he was right, how?

  Just keep working.

  Oh. Oh! I did. Then we were past that, expanding into Paula’s nerves and muscles, testing organs to be sure nothing we’d done would cause too much stress. I could be her. Her heart beat louder than mine, drawing my own physical cadences to match hers.

  Marcus, beside me, covering me, putting himself all around me, his energy firm and unyielding as ship-skin. We’re done for now.

  I’m not ready. There’s more I can fix. I could. I could strengthen her shoulders more, build it into her DNA so her children would have the change.

  His reply was full of laughter and accomplishment. They did not ask to be remade!

  So I was getting carried away. Okay. See you at the surface. I reached for Kayleen. Ready?

  Kayleen-in-the-data sounded thin and foggy. Did we do it? Will she work?

  Marcus answered her. We did well. It’s bad luck to bet before time passes. Let the sim run.

  Good. I’m taking a shower.

  Leave as carefully as you came in.

  Marcus was always warning. Almost always right. As we neared the surface layer of data, it felt like squeezing down and becoming small in order to fit into our bodies.

  I’d done it! Not so big a space as all the webs on Fremont, but open enough to let go. As I came fully into it, I found my body had let a tear run down its cheek. A second one hung like rain on my lashes, and then dropped.

  Kayleen touched it. “Why?” she whispered.

  I didn’t really have an answer. I felt . . . elated and completely drained. I felt like the first time I gave all of myself to Alicia, for her instead of for me, the first time I passed the blushing-boy stage and made love to her like a man. I had floated then. “I guess . . . I guess I’m just tired.”

  She gave a soft nod. “I’ve never been so tired.” She wrinkled her nose at me. “And dirty. How about we clean up and go eat?”

  A half hour later, all three of us sat in the cafeteria, smelling less of sweat and salt and more of berries and bread and tea. Sasha curled under the table, making sure some part of her touched each of us.

  I’d avoided col, wanting sleep. Needing sleep.

  The fact that my eyes would only stay half open explained why I didn’t see Marcus’s friend Stark, from the war room, until he was sitting across from me. And even then I might not have noticed him except that Sasha had sat harder on my feet and was giving a low warning growl. I grabbed her by the collar.

  His countenance looked serious and his eyes were dark in his dark brown skin. He ignored me and Kayleen. His being here did give me a spark of energy. “They’re coming. Islas.”

  “When?” Marcus asked.

  “They’re five days out. They’re already slowing, and they have an obvious trajectory. Looks like Oshai spaceport.” He frowned and looked down at his big hands on the table for a moment before looking back at us. “I should’ve seen it sooner. It’s not the military proper, but the Star Mercenaries.”

  Of course it was. I should have a visceral reaction, but I just didn’t have the energy.

  Kayleen grabbed for my hand. I gave it to her, watching Marcus’s face. Surely now we should go to the others.

  Marcus nodded and pursed his lips, not looking at any of us. He must be lost in thought or data or both. Or as tired as we were. Who knew what? And I’d been more worried about the Port Authority. “Why would they follow us here?” I asked.

  “Someone’s paying them,” Marcus said. “Maybe Islas. Or maybe not.” He sipped his col, and took a bite of bread, looking far less worried than I felt. “I wish we had Dianne,” Marcus mused. “She’d have a good guess.” He looked back at Stark. “Can we be ready in two days?”

  Ready for what?

  “Two days is longer than I recommend.”

  Marcus glanced at us. He looked as drained as I felt. “I bet we need two. Sim’s got to run forward ten or twelve hours before we know if we’re done here.”

  “Could it have been that easy?” Stark mused. “A few days of work? And the fliers never got it done before?”

  Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “A few days of work for us. Chance and others have spent years. It’s partly what they did that made it possible for us to do what we did. If we did it.” He glanced at me and Kayleen. “We don’t know yet.”

  I nodded and squeezed Kayleen’s hand. We weren’t going to try anything again until we rested. It better have worked. It had felt like it worked.

  Stark looked at us. “I’m sorry. Like I said, I wanted to spend some time with you all. I’m pleased to have you here.”

  Kayleen’s face had gone white and her hand shook in mine. I wanted to hold her, to calm her, but I didn’t have the strength to move. I managed half a nod. There was no adrenaline left. I’d burned it all on the sim. My body didn’t care if the Port Authority and the Star Mercenaries and the bounty hunters were after me. Hell, it didn’t care if it took its next breath.

  The table came up to meet my face.

  31

  ALICIA: FRIENDS AND ENEMIES

  Darkness had transformed the Festival of High Summer to a sensory feast. As we slipped invisibly though the entrance, I stopped for a moment in a clear spot. Every tree branch or high protrusion of any kind had its hard edges dotted with multicolored lights. A soft yellow glow came from under the paths, as if they’d been built on light. Music rose and fell from multiple directions, drums and flutes and stringed instruments. The air was scented with wine and tomatoes and other fruits, and frying breads. I tugged Induan close to me, and whispered quietly, “It’s magical.”

  All I got in return was sharp shushing sound.

  Too bad she didn’t have a sense of wond
er. But she was the trained strategist, so I shut up and walked fast and quiet toward where I’d promised Bryan I’d meet him. We passed Amile’s booth, still closed up. No sign of Jackson either, although his booth was open. A tiny blond woman chatted with customers across the table, a big smile on her face.

  In another few minutes, we were near where I’d left Bryan. We couldn’t get close; impossible to stay invisible in a standing-room-only crowd. I climbed up on a tall rock, pulling Induan up behind me. From this vantage, we could see the performers, although they were still too far away to make out their features. A mixed band: human and fliers, two of each. The sight made me smile involuntarily.

  In front, humans crowded near the stage, some swaying and stomping their feet to the music. In general, the fliers stood farther back, needing room. All of the perches were full. Other fliers gathered in small groups. Rocks, like the one we stood on, often had fliers on them.

  Pale light bathed the whole crowd, punctuated with the individual lights of features like chairs and a fountain, and with the bobbing moving lights of decorated hair and wings. Bryan’s blocky body should be easy enough to spot.

  Nowhere.

  Induan squeezed my hand and leaned in to me. “I’m going to look around. Stay here.”

  So she could whisper and I couldn’t? “All right,” I answered quietly. There was probably no one looking for her. She left my side, and a few moments later I saw her emerge, visible, from a booth close to my rock perch. At first I tried to track her through the crowd, then I lost her behind a cloud of fliers and settled down to watch and listen.

  The music sounded pretty good. I slid off my shoes and let them fall on the ground below, visible but not noticed. I stood on my rock and danced, liking the idea of dancing invisible. It felt good to stop worrying for a few moments and feel the wind in my hair and the stone under my feet, still warm from the day. The drums washed over me, rhythm, the flute adding melody. Even though the music was as bright and light as the music of the morning ceremony, it sounded better in the dark under the lights. I could never live with the Keepers under the hill, but I could run a booth here. It would be kind of like being a roamer on Fremont, only safer.

  “Who’s there?” a voice asked from behind me.

  I stilled.

  “I hear you breathing.”

  I turned and found a human woman I didn’t recognize looking quizzically in my direction. I leapt lightly from the stone to land near my shoes, not answering. Good thing, since a green-winged man landed right where I’d been. I used the noise of his landing to slip my shoes on and slide a few feet sideways, far from the woman. She stared at the top of the rock and the flier, until he said, “Excuse me?” and she blushed and stepped away.

  I should be more careful. I spent the next few moments dodging people walking by. Induan didn’t reappear and I didn’t see Bryan.

  Another two songs played before I jumped, startled by Induan’s hand on my arm. She’d become invisible again. She led me away from the crowd and whispered, “No sign of him.”

  “Or Ming? Or anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Seeyan told me to find Juss.”

  “I know where his booth is.”

  “Take me.”

  She didn’t answer but just went, her hand in mine slick with sweat even though it wasn’t very hot anymore.

  Juss’s booth was near the center, just like I’d thought. It was a big square with bright purple and blue walls and silver display cases. Juss—if it was Juss in the booth—was a tall man with blue hair, a blue shirt, and a blue belt over black pants. I still wore my blue shirt, but of course he wouldn’t see.

  He had customers; three Islan humans looking at clever metal pendants with small feathers. Most of the cases held similar items. One was all feathers, none the size of pinions, but some clearly from the bigger feathers that lined the wings rather than the small fluff that filled the other jewelry, or like Caro had gotten the first day we got here. He dickered with the customers a while, smiling the whole time. His face looked kindly, and his voice sounded gentle.

  I didn’t trust looks.

  I watched while two more sets of customers came and went. A Paradiser bought a long, slender mauve feather, which Juss set carefully into a wooden box that he wrapped in a red-and-gold ribbon. A failed flier with wing-bumps like Seeyan’s took a small trinket and leaned in a few times to talk to Juss in a tone too low for me to hear.

  I crept in closer, waiting for the Keeper to go, ready to pop into sight and see how Juss took it. Induan would probably have a fit, but dancing on rocks aside, it was high time we made some progress. I looked around, checking to be sure no one besides Juss would see me. After all, I didn’t want to give Induan a reason to have a fit.

  A tall slender woman came up the walkway to the booth with long, anxious strides, her face set in a worried look.

  Seeyan.

  I stepped back, bumping into Induan, who goosed me with a sharp finger.

  Seeyan stepped up to him, glancing around just like I had been, as if making sure no one could overhear her. I tried to remember if she even knew we had the invisibility mods. Maybe not. Whatever. She leaned in. “Any sign of Alicia or Bryan?”

  Induan slid an arm around my torso, pulling me in close.

  Juss nodded. “They got in a fight down by the main gate—some idiot interface merchant down there heard about the bounty and was watching for them.”

  Jackson and Amile were both interface merchants.

  Seeyan picked up a small round pendant with a yellow feather in it. “Did they get caught?”

  “I don’t know. Not then. I have four or five people out looking for them, but no one’s reported any sign.”

  Juss still looked kind. I was beginning to doubt it. “Are Marcus and Joseph coming to save the day?” he asked.

  “No.” Seeyan put the pendant down and picked up another one, this one a knotted string with beads and no feathers, although it had the suggestion of a feather’s shape in the way the knots fell. She held it up to her neck, looking in a mirror, a distracted look on her face. “Marcus is so focused on saving us that even Jenna being gone isn’t distracting him.”

  Disappointment flickered across Juss’s face. “Joseph?”

  “Does what Marcus says.”

  Which I was fiercely glad of for the first time in my life, since it looked like Seeyan had been trying to trick them into something. But what? Chelo was the one who’d spent time with her. I knew Seeyan’s story—abused flier kid that no one wanted once she couldn’t fly. A lot of their stories were that one. But you’d think that would make her want the flier/baby situation fixed.

  Seeyan put the pendant down and leaned into Juss, pecking him on the cheek. “Anything else for me to report?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll let you know if we catch them. General Loni called asking, and she sounded unhappy.”

  “Yeah, well, I am, too.”

  I couldn’t ask who that was, but I filed the name away. General Loni. A woman.

  Juss’s booth seemed to appeal to Islans since two more came up. Seeyan turned away, and he spoke to her back. “Be careful, little one.”

  Whatever was going on, he cared about her. The tone of his voice made that clear. He turned to the Islans, and I noticed he seemed to know one of them. But Seeyan was getting away. She might lead us right to Jenna and Paloma and the others. I pulled Induan after me, following Seeyan.

  Induan didn’t complain.

  I expected Seeyan to leave the festival. She didn’t. She went on through the middle, along the back of the concert where we’d failed to find Bryan (and where I still didn’t see him when I spared glances into the crowd), and through the crowd, carefully, until we came to a series of long, low buildings that looked like small warehouses. A few open doors supported that theory; boxes of goods stood stacked inside one, and another one had huge blocks of wood that would probably become fodder for another day’s sculpture.

  Seeyan’s pa
lm unlocked a gate in a tallish wooden wall and she slipped through a door. Before the door closed, I slid a finger in the last bit of opening, biting my tongue to keep from crying out as it tried to shut on me using some automatic mechanism. There must have been a safety built into it since it stopped, my finger trapped neatly and me swallowing hard with tears bunching in my eyes.

  The door swung back open—undoubtedly helped by Induan, and we slid inside and let it close. Seeyen, steps away, looked back quizzically, but then shrugged and kept going.

  Only then did I breathe out. Good thing my finger was invisible. Surely it was swelling and bruised.

  Inside the big fence was a small compound of four or five buildings, a few tables and chairs and, here and there, perches. Dim lights set the buildings’ shadows and the perches’ shadows into each other at odd angles, and gave a few of the perches multiple shadows. Seeyan slid through a door into the nearest building. We didn’t make it inside before the door closed behind her.

  Induan and I stood still, watching. The dark shape of a dark-winged flier took off from one of the buildings farther away from us, soon lost to view. That explained all the lighting around the festival; a way for fliers to avoid running into obstacles. From this distance I couldn’t tell if it was Tsawo. I wouldn’t think so, but I wouldn’t have expected Seeyan to be selling us short either.

  Two people walked around the grounds together, talking in low tones. They were dressed in dark clothes and wore soft shoes. Guards?

  A flier passed close enough over our own heads that I ducked when I felt the wind in my hair.

  We needed to move. The windows in the building Seeyan had gone into were covered; I didn’t hold out much hope of seeing anything of interest. I tugged on Induan, angling us toward the building the flier had emerged from.