by Aguirre, Ann
She looked away from the spectacle below, focusing on Kurr instead. One of the nestlings let out a sound—distress, maybe? From her time in daycare, she’d learned that human kids were sensitive to their caretaker’s moods, so she tried to calm her racing heart and bent her head to croon a little song that had always calmed children who didn’t want to nap after lunch. The nestlings settled down at the sound of her voice, and she glanced up in time to catch something mechanical whirring in the air nearby.
“And that is time! Behold, the perfect nest-guardian,” the host intoned. “Unflappable, swift, responsive…comforting the young ones even as chaos riots all around. Fix your eyes on the ideal candidate, would-be Chosen! This is Beryl Bowman of Aerth and her partner, Kurr, who keeps the peace so Beryl can nurture!”
It’s over?
As the alarm sounded, medics and mech units entered the arena to break up fights that didn’t seem to be stopping on their own. The medics took charge of the nestlings, maybe to evaluate their condition, so the rankings could be decided from there. Since theirs were pretty much untouched, Beryl figured she was safe, but hell if she knew how she was getting down from here. Her arms and legs both hurt like hell.
“I will catch you,” Kurr called.
Really? Since their partnership had gotten them both this far, it seemed like a bad idea to voice her skepticism. Beryl couldn’t exactly try to break her own fall since the medics hadn’t gotten to the top of the scaffold yet. What the hell. She edged to the rim of the platform, tightened her hold on the nestlings, and let herself fall backward. The sudden drop spun her stomach, but Kurr caught her in three fronds, and gently set her upright. Beryl returned the Greenspirit’s nestling just as the officiants reached them.
They used a fancy scanner that lit up when they ran it over the young ones. “Your charges are in perfect condition. You are not, Beryl Bowman.”
“Tell me about it,” she mumbled.
It was getting harder to stand since she’d lost a fair amount of blood, and the wounds were still trickling red, albeit sluggishly. One of the medics knelt and ran a laser up her calves, one at a time. She yipped more in startlement than in actual pain. Is that cauterizing my cuts? She caught a hint of singed flesh, and there was a faint scar on the back of her legs, which were still smeared crimson.
“You will live,” the healer pronounced.
Taking the nestlings with them, they moved off to continue assessing the rest as Beryl turned to Kurr. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“I count myself fortunate that you chose me as your ally,” Kurr said. “We complement each other well. Thankfully, we can rest while our Chosen compete to seal our affiliations in the next round.”
“Looking forward to that,” she admitted.
It took only a little longer before the host announced the rankings. Beryl let out a relieved sigh when she heard that she and Kurr had tied for first. Unsurprising, but still, it was good to have it confirmed. More than six had been eliminated due to serious harm to their nestlings, and only forty contenders were moving on to the second round.
“With such impressive rankings, our prestige has grown,” Kurr said. “You defeated a Xolani doomsayer and made it look effortless! Now there will be many who seek to be Chosen by us. It is an enviable position.”
Beryl didn’t care about that. She wanted to hug her dog, get cleaned up, and spend some downtime with Zylar. If she’d processed the information correctly, they had a few days off before the next round started.
“Did you want to come over tonight? I promised to invite you.”
Kurr seemed shocked, though they had been loyal partners through all of round one. “I took that as a polite overture, nothing more. You mean to host me?”
“Well, yeah. I’m not in the habit of saying stuff I don’t mean.”
“Then I would be honored, if your Chosen is amenable.”
“He’s heading this way. I’ll ask him.” She bounced up on her toes and waved both arms in Zylar’s direction, wincing at the pull on her sore muscles.
I wish hot baths and massages were available here.
“You have done me great honor, Terrible One.” He spoke with that adorable formality, so earnest that she didn’t have the heart to remind him that she didn’t love that particular endearment.
“It was the best strategy. On the ground, I’m not a great fighter and neither is Kurr. So it made sense for one of us to guard the approach and the other to take care of the kids.”
“Such a strategy is only possible with a trustworthy partner,” Kurr said. “You might have betrayed me and dashed my nestling to the ground at the last moment to ensure your own ascension. You need not have shared your victor’s crown with me.”
Beryl stared. Honest to God, that never even occurred to her. “I’m not a monster. Even if these weren’t real babies—”
“They were real,” Zylar cut in. “Replicas, but real.”
“What’s a replica?” asked Snaps.
Quiet gratitude suffused her. If her dog hadn’t asked that, she would have had to.
“They are copies,” Kurr said. “Of viable offspring who have already grown to maturity. After the Choosing, the ones that survive will be raised as drone servitors.”
Since Zylar didn’t object to that explanation or expand on it in any way, Beryl figured it must be accurate. “Yikes. I had no idea I was guarding actual living babies. I thought they were incredibly lifelike dolls or something.” Suddenly, her knees went weak, and Zylar caught her. He leaned close, uttering whirs and clicks she took as concern. “I showboated and did a backward pratfall off the platform while holding two alien babies.”
“Yes,” said Kurr. “And I caught you. It was well-executed.”
Zylar churred. “I am in full agreement.”
Even if they were copies of Barathi who already existed, how could everyone be okay with how many lives were snuffed out today? “This is so barbaric!” she burst out. “Those were real lives in play.”
“They are copies,” Kurr said, sounding confused.
It reminded her of cloning discussions she’d had back home, and the Barathi must fall on the side that believed that copies didn’t have the same rights as everyone else. Clearly, they didn’t get it and probably wouldn’t even if she tried to explain. Her heart was heavy, though, and it hurt remembering how those nestlings had suffered, all for the sake of the Choosing.
Sighing, she said, “Let’s go celebrate our big win. Can Kurr hang out with us for a while tonight?”
Snaps bounded around the Greenspirit, sniffing as many fronds as he could reach. “Do you like to dig? I like to dig!”
Kurr ran a few fronds over the dog’s back, gentle and patient. “Digging is best when it is purposeful. You should only dig to plant your seeds.”
“I have seeds?” Snaps sounded like his mind was blown.
Despite her overall soreness and exhaustion, Beryl smiled. “You don’t, but you could get some.”
“Would you like some of mine?” Kurr offered.
“Yes! Please! I must dig with purpose,” Snaps muttered.
That didn’t sound like an offer the Greenspirit would make lightly, but she didn’t interfere. If her dog wanted to plant alien beings in the Kith B’alak private garden, who was she to stomp on his dream? Zylar would probably step in if they were about to break some important rule, right?
“To the garden first, then,” Zylar said.
10
Zylar waited while Beryl and Kurr retreated for hygienic maintenance. Beryl needed to remove the residue from her wounds before they could begin any sort of social event. While he was waiting just outside the space allotted for contenders, the last Barathi he wanted to see approached.
“Ryzven,” he said with a curt gesture of acknowledgment.
His nest-mate didn’t even pretend at politeness. “Where is Beryl Bowman? I plan to invite her to join me in my quarters for a private celebration. Accomplishments as spectacula
r as hers must be acknowledged by those at similar levels of achievement. Otherwise, success loses its savor, when one is surrounded by those of lesser qualifications.”
He’s talking about me.
The spikes on Zylar’s back almost stood up, but he forced them down only through sheer effort. It would be the height of rudeness to indulge in an aggressive flare while conversing with close kin, and Ryzven would waste no time telling the Matriarch about it. The ill feelings that accompanied this interest in his intended did not simply evaporate, however. I have to remain calm.
“Then you must wait,” he said with what he considered admirable aplomb.
It was probably only a few intervals, though it seemed longer with Ryzven lurking and radiating impatience. At last Beryl and Kurr returned, markedly cleaner and fresher, and he heard Beryl telling the Greenspirit about the garden. His human hurried toward him, though her steps slowed when she spotted Ryzven nearby. Snaps squirmed in Zylar’s arms, so he set him down after checking the cord looped around his neck. Beryl reached for the leash as she eyed Ryzven, but she didn’t address him. Instead, she knelt and spoke nonsense words to the fur-person while rubbing him all over with her grabbers.
Kurr filled the awkward silence with a stiff, formal greeting. “Honor to your kith and kin, renowned Ryzven. I am Kurr.”
“A pleasure! Everyone who has been following the Choosing knows who you are, esteemed Greenspirit.”
While Zylar would be pleased if Ryzven forgot his business with Beryl while dallying with Kurr, he doubted he’d be so lucky. And as Beryl rose, Ryzven turned to her, making sure she got the full impact of his rare colors. He even puffed out his thorax a little, and Beryl let out a breath, a sound Zylar identified as annoyance. She said something the translator couldn’t process.
“I came to congratulate you on your—” Before Ryzven could finish his pompous sentence, Snaps ambled forward, lifted a leg, and eliminated on him.
“I don’t like him,” Snaps said. “Beryl doesn’t like him. Let’s go!”
“So sorry about that,” Beryl said in a flat tone. “Snaps is nervous around strangers.”
Zylar had heard sincerity from her many times before, and on this occasion, she wasn’t remotely apologetic. In fact, her eyes were twinkling and she seemed to be having a hard time restraining herself from making the battle face, which she’d said indicated amusement or enjoyment.
“You should clean that up,” he told Ryzven, who was sputtering incoherent outrage.
Most likely, he would live to regret all of this, but it felt so good to get the best of his arrogant nest-mate for once that he didn’t even look back when Beryl grabbed his claw and led him toward the exit. It occurred to him that she was leading him like Snaps, only by the limb instead of using a cord, but it would have lessened the impact of their departure if he mentioned as much.
Once they reached the public corridors, Kurr finally said, “I hope we have not given serious offense. I am…fearful.”
The Greenspirit must know Ryzven’s reputation well. He wouldn’t accept such a humiliation without striking back. “Do not let it lessen your satisfaction in what you’ve achieved today. I will apologize more fully another time.”
“Why would you apologize for something Snaps did?” Beryl cut in. “If anyone’s going to make amends, it should be me. Though for the record, I said ‘sorry’ already.”
“It was insincere,” Kurr noted.
Beryl stared for a long moment, then said, “That’s fair.” She took a step closer to the two of them and added in a whisper, “So when I apologize sincerely, I probably shouldn’t let on that I told Snaps to pee on him? I mean, theoretically.”
The Greenspirit emitted a shocked rustling sound while Zylar simply could not contain his glee. He churred louder than he ever had in his life. “Truly? That’s what you said that the translator could not comprehend?”
Then Beryl did show her fearsome aspect, displaying all her teeth. “I will neither confirm nor deny those allegations.”
“Confirmed,” said Snaps. “I was promised extra snacks.”
Still delighted with his intended, Zylar led the way to the garden, wondering how he should reward Beryl for improving his life in every conceivable way. Kurr had never seen such a lavish private greenspace, so the Ulian wandered freely, talking to the plant life and providing interpretations for Snaps, who stayed close to their side in hopes of acquiring the seeds that had been promised earlier.
“I probably shouldn’t have done that,” Beryl said softly. “Sorry if it’s going to make trouble for you. I’m tired, hungry, and I lost my temper. I don’t know why, but your brother gets on my last nerve.”
“You find him…irritating?” That was a staggering revelation, as Ryzven inspired affection and admiration everywhere he went.
“I think it’s his relentless superiority and entitlement. He might as well be wearing a badge that says, ‘Hey, did you know that I’m a big deal?’”
Zylar churred. His nest-mate would despise such mockery at his expense. He didn’t have much of a sense of humor about such things, which was why he was sure Ryzven wouldn’t get over how Snaps had evacuated on his person. The Matriarch might be hearing about the offense already.
“I agree with your assessment of his character, but…he is powerful. It would be safer not to antagonize him until we have passed the Choosing.”
Beryl stilled, her squishy face twisting into an expression he couldn’t read. “He has that much influence?”
“Potentially? Yes. We still need the officiants to approve us in the third round, and if Ryzven whispers poison…” Since Beryl was performing so well, the condemnation would likely be directed at Zylar himself. He could already hear Ryzven intimating that he was unworthy of such a stellar nest-guardian—that Beryl must be persuaded to Choose someone more suitable.
“Then…I’ll make amends,” she said quietly.
Her expression lost its brightness, however, and he could tell that she wasn’t happy about it. “I wish I had the power to protect you better.”
“No, it’s fine. There are power hierarchies everywhere, right? I’ll try not to provoke him until we get what we need from the officials. I’ll ask Snaps to apologize too.”
The fur-person bounded up as if she’d summoned him. “I planted seeds! Can we go home now? I’m hungry. So hungry!”
“This has been a true pleasure,” Kurr said. “I will not intrude upon you further.”
“But I promised to invite you to our place. All we’ve done is hang around the garden.”
The Greenspirit flourished their fronds. “For me, that was the finest prize I could have been offered. With permission, Zylar, I would like to remain here and rest my roots. That would provide me with great respite and relaxation.”
Zylar replied, “Then certainly, stay as long as you like. None should question you, but if they do, refer them to me.”
“Many thanks.”
They were silent in returning to their quarters, apart from Snaps making occasional comments to himself regarding the way things smelled. In the front room, Beryl’s nest held pride of place. It was the first thing Zylar noticed when he stepped into the space. Snaps went straight for the water pot, and he recalled that they both needed to eat. He produced a couple of the nutritive packets, tailored for their size and energy intake needs, noticing how Beryl gave the smaller one to Snaps before she ate hers, then she downed a fair amount of liquid and let out a protracted sound.
“Are your injuries still troubling you?” he asked.
“No, I’m just tired…and glad I finally get to spend some quiet time with you.”
That…sounded intimate. And quite desirable. More than what the Choosing ordinarily permitted. Zylar suspected they had bonds forming already, and that was both wonderful and terrible. He had never let himself feel too much before, not with the prospect of failure looming over him.
This is what an out-bond feels like. Caring for her, despite our differen
ces.
“Ryzven would have offered you an elaborate feast, recited poetry in your honor. Do you not regret missing out on those revels? I have nothing like that to offer.” He heard the vulnerability in the question. With anyone else, he never would have even asked.
“Not even slightly,” she said. “I’d much rather be with you.”
Maybe that was too much?
It was the truth, but Beryl hadn’t meant it to sound so much like a declaration of love. She did have feelings for Zylar—of some sort—but she wasn’t ready to confess undying devotion, especially when the Choosing was still in progress, and she might possibly be suffering from Stockholm syndrome. They both seemed to have swiped right, but it wasn’t like they had been together for a long time, or anything. Mostly, she wanted to play with Snaps and rest.
That was the most important component, but he was staring at her like she’d cracked his chitin open and might start exploratory surgery at any moment. Probably just as well that she wasn’t great at reading his expressions yet, because now she could pretend she didn’t know exactly how moved he was.
“Thank you,” he said finally.
“I’m so tired!” Snaps complained.
Thanks, dog.
“Come to bed then.”
Snaps bounded over and rolled around on the covers, waving his legs in the air, then he spun in circles the correct number of times until he finally settled. Within seconds, he was on his side with his legs stretched out, snoring softly.
Wish I could do that…
If she knew Zylar, he probably wouldn’t delve since the moment had passed. His beta tendencies and lack of self-esteem might even be what had gotten him passed over in prior Choosings. But Beryl wasn’t in the market for an alpha asshole, so that worked out great. If you had to be abducted by aliens, it was good to wind up with one who respected your boundaries and preferences.
