The Druid Gene

by Jennifer Foehner Wells

  She rested easily against the tern’s ceiling, panting. He threw a towel at her. She caught it without bouncing around violently or grabbing for anything to stabilize her. Yes. She’d gained some ease. Progress.

  “Tomorrow we work harder,” he told her as he pushed off for the latrine in the rear compartment. “This was just an introduction.”

  She snorted, but her gaze turned on him sharply. “Why do you care so much about this?”

  He narrowed his eyes and turned back to face her. “You are a hilut in a galaxy of drakun. I’m teaching you to survive. Do not question me about it again.”

  She held his eyes without flinching. Good. That was exactly what he wanted.

  30

  There wasn’t any way to mark time inside the tern. They ended up following Raub’s biorhythm by default, and the days he set were long. There was punishing exercise for a good portion of the day. He constantly reminded her that null g would rob her of muscle tone and bone mass if she didn’t work hard to prevent it. Exercise was followed by what he called mental training and no downtime. It helped the time pass so she didn’t complain.

  She still didn’t know why he treated her like a protégé. He said it was his way of preparing her to face the galaxy, but she knew it was more than that. She watched him more closely than ever now. There had been some ulterior motive to getting her on this tern, and she had to figure out what that was.

  Sometimes he talked her through very detailed scenarios and drilled her on how she would react, but more often he put her in a virtual-reality contraption where she played a hunting game for hours on end, usually alone against the computer, but sometimes against him. Then he would critique her performance like he was doing a post-game play-by-play breakdown, pointing out missed opportunities to thwart the virtual prey, and times when she wasn’t aggressive enough, wary enough, or canny enough. His obsession with the game verged on madness, but it passed many hours that would otherwise have been empty.

  She asked once if there were other types of games she could play. He’d barked out a laugh and said, “There is no other game. This is the only one that matters.”

  The distances between things in space were bigger than she ever could have imagined. Nothing seemed to change outside through the windshield. It was just a never-ending sea of stars. None of them stood out to her. None of them ever seemed to get closer or farther away.

  Tesserae71 was healing slowly. She checked his damaged leg and his thorax wound from time to time. It didn’t look like his shell was going to close over. Once his insides healed, they’d have to create a permanent patch to cover the wound to keep it from getting infected. He didn’t move much, which concerned her. He clearly feared incurring more injuries to his legs, which she agreed was a legitimate concern because they seemed to be brittle. She assumed he was sleeping most of the time, but there was no way to be certain since his eyes were so different and never closed.

  The others found ways to occupy themselves, telling each other stories, playing word-association games and logic puzzles. She guessed that they’d been dealing with the issue of boredom since they were taken aboard the Vermachten and had already learned how to cope. Selpis and Nembrotha only moved around the cabin when Raub was sleeping, and then only with great stealth. It was strange and painful, but ultimately sensible. At least there would be freedom for them once this journey was complete.

  For the most part Raub pretended the others weren’t even present. He didn’t like her to spend time with them. She didn’t know why that was, but was afraid to probe for fear he would stop tolerating them eating and drinking his supplies.

  The journey began to feel unending, and she had to remind herself that it wasn’t. Eventually a new life would begin. Like many other things in her life, this was something to just get through.

  They kept on like this, day after day with little change in routine. Some days she felt angry and trapped. She couldn’t help but sulk or lash out at Raub, and then he’d intentionally provoke her into a physical match. On those days she was happy to spar with him, to aggressively work those feelings out until she was spent physically and emotionally and practically blacked out when it was finally time to sleep. It was a small miracle they hadn’t broken anything on the little ship, because there were times they got so caught up in these matches that they forgot where they were.

  They slammed into the walls of the craft, sometimes hard enough to leave dents in the bulkheads or cause injuries to each other. She was actually causing him some damage now. The lack of gravity leveled the playing field to a degree, making his height and weight less of an issue. They both healed disturbingly quickly, and more than once she wondered if he carried the druid gene and apochondria as well.

  Over time, pain came to have less meaning to her. She got used to being battered and kept fighting despite any injuries because she was usually back to normal by the next time they sparred. Raub encouraged that behavior. He certainly never let anything stop him. He was relentless.

  These brawls seemed to unnerve her companions, though she reassured them that she was okay. She knew it was messed up. It wasn’t normal. But none of this was normal. This had become a new, completely insane, normal.

  She held an absorbent pad to her nose to wick away the blood pooling there and crouched down in the little alcove with her friends. Raub had used her momentum to slam her face into the floor shortly before they called it quits for the day. She felt pleasantly drained as the adrenaline wore off, and ignored the throbbing in the center of her face as she checked on how her friends were doing.

  Selpis stared at her solemnly, then leaned forward with one hand, wordlessly pulling on Darcy’s nose until she was assured it was straight. Selpis often helped her clean up or reset her injuries after these battles.

  Selpis’s brow ridges drew together in what Darcy had come to realize was her version of a frown. “I don’t know what passes for a standard of beauty on your world, but perhaps a crushed nose isn’t aesthetically pleasing?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why do you do this?”

  Darcy looked away. She didn’t know, to be honest. She shrugged. “I might have to fight to get Adam back. It makes sense to learn.”

  “He must be very important to you. You have changed a great deal since they first put you in that cell and you tried to start an insurrection.”

  “He is.”

  Selpis stared at her hard, but didn’t say anything.

  “It’s my fault he was taken,” Darcy said very quietly. She was surprised she’d said it aloud. And once she did, a dam seemed to break. Tears flooded her eyes, but because of microgravity, they didn’t go anywhere. Her throat ached. “Hain was looking for someone like me. Adam just happened to be with me.” She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging herself tight, and tipped her head forward, turning away to hide her face from Selpis’s knowing look.

  “That is circumstance. Not fault,” Selpis said. She wrapped an arm around Darcy and pulled her closer. It was the first tender contact she’d had with another person since she’d been taken from Earth. She found herself clinging to the reptilian woman. Selpis’s skin was pebbled and cool, but it didn’t make the hug any less warm. She didn’t want to let go. It was so reassuring. It felt so safe.

  “Adam is funny and sweet. I could be hard to live with. It wasn’t always easy. But he just…he was always positive, always good. He’s been there for me, you know? Now I need to be there for him.”

  Nembrotha slipped down from Selpis’s shoulders to glide over Selpis and Darcy’s twined arms. It felt strange. The muscles rippling in the slug’s single foot tickled as they created suction while traveling over her skin. Nembrotha turned their face up to her, sensory stalks waving. “Is this the kind of life he would want for you?”

  “I’m sure he wants me to survive,” she replied.

  “Survive, yes,” Nembrotha lisped. “But would he want you to become a vigilante? Or a sidekick for this beast? It could take a life
time to track him down. It will be a difficult life.”

  That was too much reality for Darcy. She squeezed her eyes shut. The tears balled up in the inner corners of her eyes. She couldn’t answer.

  “Is he capable? Resourceful?” Selpis asked.

  “Yes…”

  “If he has the same gifts you have, then he is surely just as formidable. No doubt he is also free by now and looking for you,” Selpis said.

  “But he doesn’t. We aren’t the same. I’m different.”

  “A different species?” Nembrotha asked.

  “No—yes—I’m not sure.” She paused and swallowed. This was awkward. She couldn’t tell them she had the druid gene or the apochondria. If they knew what that was, they might not treat her the same way. The video Hain had showed her warned people to be afraid of druid hybrids. She suspected they were commonly represented as unstable and dangerous.

  Selpis tilted her head to the side, but then went on. “There were rumors among the other captives that the humans were causing a lot of trouble. They had to be kept separate from each other because they were difficult to keep contained. I heard they were fierce fighters. We assumed they were talking about you, at first, but then we realized there were others.”

  “That had to be the reason Hain sold all the humans so quickly,” Nembrotha mused. They scooted farther up Darcy’s arm, lifted one of the two stubby tentacles on the front of their foot, and patted it against the corner of each of Darcy’s eyes, absorbing the tears that had collected there. It was an oddly touching gesture. “Your devotion speaks well of you. Or it is supremely foolish. I haven’t decided.”

  Tesserae71 roused and clacked softly, “She saved the three of us, why should we doubt she could find and save her Adam?”

  “We shouldn’t,” Selpis said. “I’ve no doubt she can.”

  Nembrotha crawled up over Darcy’s shoulder until their mouth was close to her opposite ear. Their wet whisper was barely audible. “What does that one think of this plan?” Their sensory stalks waved toward Raub, who was engaged in cooldown exercises. He would expect her to be back up and into the VR gear soon.

  “I haven’t talked to him about it,” Darcy replied.

  “Don’t,” the baryana said softly, for her ear only.

  She turned her head slightly toward Nembrotha, searching their alien expression.

  “That one helps no one unless it is to his advantage. Never trust him. Never. He is not what he seems.” Nembrotha glided from her shoulders back to Selpis. “He’s ready for you.”

  She looked up at Raub, but he was still holding fast to a bar protruding from the ceiling, doing ab crunches. She opened her mouth to ask Nembrotha to explain.

  “Leebska!” Raub bellowed suddenly, and shoved away from the bar.

  She pushed herself up and turned to face her friends. Nembrotha was already curled around Selpis’s shoulders again, their sensory stalks drooping like they were dozing.

  31

  Darcy woke to find Raub sitting up and focused on the ship’s controls. He normally slept in the pilot seat and she’d seen him check their position from time to time, maybe even make course corrections, but she hadn’t seen him concentrating like this since the day they stole the tern.

  Over the course of the journey, she had occasionally asked him how much longer it would be or questioned him about their destination, but he usually just grunted in response. He wasn’t really much of a talker unless he was imparting some kind of strategic fighting wisdom when they were sparring or if he felt the need to correct her form when they were working out.

  She righted herself in the copilot seat, rubbing her face, and leaned over to glance down over the side to see her three companions still unmoving. She inhaled deeply, her eyes wandering, and settled her gaze on the windshield to groggily look out at the stars. She gasped and sat up straighter. Her heart started to pound. Instantly she was awake.

  There was finally something new to see outside. It was small, clearly still very far away, but… “Is that a planet?” she cried.

  Raub didn’t answer but reached out to touch the largest screen embedded in his console. He brought up the small ball she was staring at and magnified it until it filled the screen.

  She unlatched and pushed herself between the two consoles, brushing against Raub in her eagerness to ogle the image.

  It was a planet. It was green and blue and had white clouds. It looked so much like Earth tears sprang to her eyes.

  It wasn’t Earth. She knew that immediately. The configuration of the continents was all wrong. But it was a planet and it was going to be the place where she started her new life. She didn’t know what to expect once they got there, but she’d have to find a way to make money so she could retrace the Vermachten’s steps and track down Adam’s buyer.

  “What’s it called?”

  The others were stirring. She sensed them moving behind her, keeping their distance, but likely hoping for a glimpse of their destination.

  “Ulream,” Raub said flatly.

  “Never heard of it,” she heard Nembrotha mutter.

  Raub ignored the baryana.

  That fact didn’t really surprise her. Raub had said they were in a remote part of the galaxy, where inhabited planets were sparsely distributed and not well documented.

  “Tell us about it,” Darcy said.

  “Its atmosphere has a high oxygen content. It’s a mining colony. We should be able to book passage on an ore-transport ship with jump capabilities.”

  “What kind of people live there?” she asked.

  “A small population of belastoise. There is no sentient indigenous life.”

  Nembrotha made a soggy snorting sound and Selpis hushed them.

  Darcy frowned and glanced back at her friends. She’d expected them to be happy, but Selpis looked stricken and she couldn’t be sure but it seemed like Nembrotha was sneering with disgust. Their sensory stalks hung limp and their expressive mouth was drawn up like a purse. Tesserae drifted in place, his mandibles working. The trio returned to their corner of the tern.

  Something was wrong.

  “What are belastoise like?” she asked Raub.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” His tone was dismissive. He wasn’t interested in talking about it.

  “How much longer?”

  She waited a few minutes, but he didn’t reply. She bit back an angry comment and pushed herself into the rear of the cabin, simmering silently, barely resisting the temptation to slam things. She wanted to demand details from him, but it wouldn’t make any difference. It would only piss him off, and he’d just be more reticent.

  The planet was visible. She’d be able to watch it get closer over time, and it wasn’t like they were going to be there in ten minutes. If she was patient he might be more forthcoming. She hoped.

  She pulled out some food to break the fast and went to share it with her companions. They took it from her without comment. There was no conversation. None of them seemed to be making eye contact with her. She didn’t understand why.

  Why wasn’t anyone excited about finally getting somewhere? They couldn’t stay inside this tiny ship forever. What was going on?

  The answer came that night.

  She’d been asleep for hours when she started awake with Nembrotha hissing in her ear. It took her a moment to collect herself and realize what was going on. She opened her mouth to ask what they were doing, but they shushed her and told her to go to the lavatory.

  It was so odd that she did what she was told. The ship was dark and silent except for the sounds of Raub’s deep breathing and the occasional rustle from Tesserae71’s restless movements. There was a dim safety light in the back. She unlatched herself from the seat as quietly as she could and pushed off for the back of the ship with Nembrotha clinging to her chest.

  Once inside the latrine, she hovered there dumbly for a moment, blinking. “Do you have to go?” she whispered. Selpis handled all of their bathroom breaks. She didn’t know wha
t to do for them.

  “Turn on the vacuum,” they replied, their voice barely audible.

  She did. The machine that removed bodily waste whirred softly, creating some white noise.

  Nembrotha curled around her neck, their mouth brushing up against her ear, and began to speak. “The belastoise are xenophobes. They don’t mix with outsiders because they consider them unclean. They will not so much as speak with any of us.”

  “But—”

  “No. Do not delude yourself. There will be no belastoise jumpship. Once we get there, we will be marooned.”

  Her mouth hung open. “Why?”

  “Why would he choose such a planet? I don’t presume to know. But be on your guard. All of this could be an elaborate ruse to sell you to an eccentric buyer.”

  Her head was spinning. “No, it’s probably just the only planet that was in range.”

  “Possibly. He has created that illusion for you, anyway. He creates many illusions. All of them for you.”

  She stared at the dull finish on the metal-clad walls of the tiny cubicle, not actually seeing it, her thoughts churning.

  “Be wary of what he is turning you into, Darcy.” Nembrotha’s tone dripped with weight. She was pretty sure that was the first time they’d ever used her actual name when addressing her. She thought of all the times they’d made ridiculous pronouncements that turned out to be true.

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “I was trained in detecting the biochemical markers of deception across a wide variety of species.” Nembrotha waggled their sensory stalks at her. “I was Prime Chemist for the Yamaah Imperial Ambassadorial Synod. It was my job to know things. Now turn off the vacuum, fumble around convincingly for a moment and go back to the cockpit.”

  She tapped the button to turn off the waste vacuum, woodenly banged around for a minute like someone would if they were sleepily using the facilities, then made her way back to the copilot seat. Nembrotha slipped away without another sound, presumably to rejoin Selpis in the small alcove below.