by Cara Bristol
“You were planning ahead.”
“Needlessly, as it happened, but yes.” I checked the fuel level of the illuvian heater, and added another nugget to the chamber. I’d left the heater on low so the hut would be warm when I returned. I hadn’t anticipated spending the night at the Meeting Place.
I hung our kels on a hook on the wall. The atmosphere seemed energized with an anticipation and expectancy not unlike the moments before chits were drawn. My horns buzzed, and blood warmed in my veins with a tantalizing sense something important hovered within my grasp. My emotions, my composure, my thoughts—all were under assault.
I rubbed my hands together. “Sorry for scaring you out there.” I recalled his shrill cry of alarm as we’d sailed over the hills. I shouldn’t have laughed. An Earth man, a young one, he was still fearful of many things.
“Scared me?”
“Going over the hills. I should have warned you.” The members of my tribe loved the hills. When the skimmers weren’t needed for transportation and work, males and females enjoyed going for a run, taking the hills at full speed and flying over the top.
“A warning would have been nice, but no harm done.” He shrugged. Any Dakonian male would have attempted to hide his fear also, but Madison’s pretense was so thin, it struck me as amusing—and endearing.
I’d grown fond of him. He almost reminded me of a younger brother in need of care and protection, except for the tingling physical awareness and sense that some understanding remained outside of my grasp. I looked at him and felt my horns pulsate. I cleared my throat. “We like to travel fast,” I explained.
“Must be a guy thing,” he muttered.
I cocked my head.
“I mean, I do, too, but I want to be prepared for it.” His face reddened.
“It’s a Dakonian thing,” I said. As more females arrived, we learned more about Terran culture, habits, and personalities, but perhaps we misled ourselves by assuming males and females acted the same. Perhaps their males were not as bold as their females. Having this chance to get to know Madison, I’d learn more about the Terran male gender.
“Before we acquired skimmers, we had no mode of transportation except our own feet,” I explained. “We could travel only as fast as we could walk or run, so speed is a thrill besides an advantage.
“We use walking as a unit of measurement. A tripta is the distance a person can cover in one hour. Settlements are located within one to four tripta of each other.”
“How far is this camp from the Meeting Place?”
“About half a tripta. A quick, easy hike except during a whiteout when one could become disoriented and get lost. I’m fortunate my camp is centrally located since I often visit the other settlements. The farthest one is only four and a half tripta.”
Madison’s eyes widened. “That would take nine hours round-trip!”
“Yes, not long at all,” I agreed. “And having the skimmer shortens the time considerably.”
“Dakon never considered riding kel? They’re as big as Clydesdale horses!”
“That would be an unwise endeavor. Kel resist domestication,” I said. “Our ancestors tried. Their attempts—which resulted in serious injury and death by goring—were recorded in our history tomes. The animals are unpredictable and dangerous.”
“Good thing you have skimmers now,” he said. “You need more of them—one for everybody.”
“Andrea is working on it.” Natural caution caused me to hesitate, yet something about Madison invited my trust, my confidence. “I don’t think we’re supposed to have everything she has gotten for us.” I swept my arm around the hut. “The flash cookers, the heaters and lamps, housing panels, the snow skimmers, the medical equipment.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The Terra-Dakon Goodwill Exchange Program treaty grants females in exchange for ore. It says nothing about anything else. I suspect Earth authorities are unaware we’ve been receiving these supplies.”
“What does Andrea say?”
“She says she’s ‘balancing the scales’ because Earth views us as a primitive, backward people and have been taking advantage. For the cost of transporting a few females who want to come here anyway, they are stealing our ore, which she calls ‘Dakonian gold.’ She suggested since I represent the political head and face of Dakon, it would be more advantageous to us if I had no direct knowledge of the shipment of supplies.”
“Plausible deniability. How very political of Andrea.” Madison pinched his thumb and forefinger together and drew it across his mouth. “My lips are sealed. Sounds like she’s a space-age Robin Hood.”
“Robin Hood?”
“A legendary hero, a man who robbed from the rich to give to the poor.”
I didn’t consider Dakon to be poor, but I understood the analogy. “We’re indebted to her,” I said. “Thus far, only Terran females and a few males who oversee illuvian ore mining have come. I worry one day a leader from Earth will visit, find out what we’ve received, deem us in violation of the treaty, and cut off the supply of females.”
“I don’t see that happening,” Madison said. “This program is very popular with Earth women. There’s a huge waiting list. If Earth’s government curtailed the program, women would protest and vote their asses out of office. Second, and more importantly, Earth is addicted to illuvian ore and won’t risk losing the source of cheap energy.”
“All these things you have—heaters, lights, flash cookers—it’s just the tip of the iceberg on Earth. Everything there has converted to ore. They’re dependent on it now, and they’d give you anything you asked for in exchange. They’d like you to believe otherwise, but Dakon is in the driver’s seat. If you renegotiated the treaty, you could get all the supplies you needed.”
“I’ll give it some thought.” Snow skimmers were the hardest to obtain. “Speaking of Terran supplies…there’s a pelletizer in the other chamber.”
“There is?” His eyes lit up, and he ran to the chamber, flipped the pelletizer seat lid, and peered into the bowl. “I love it!”
Nobody enjoyed tromping through snow and freezing wind to use the outhouse or empty a chamber pot, but he seemed unusually excited by the pelletizer, which converted liquid and solid waste to small, odorless, disposable beads.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Someone outside pounded at the hut. Madison reentered the main room, and I went to see who had come calling in a blizzard.
Icha stood outside. She held up a covered bowl. “I’ve brought an offering for our guest.”
I couldn’t not invite her in. My gut tightened with an undefinable emotion as she stomped the snow off her feet and entered. Tossing off her hood, Icha smiled at Madison and lifted the lid of the dish to show the contents. “I did not get a chance to welcome you properly. I brought you a gift.”
Madison blinked. “Uh. Thank you, but I’m not staying long.”
“The length of your visit doesn’t matter. That you’re here now, does.” Icha set the crockery on the table. “It is roasted phea set in a macha crust,” she said. “I thought you might be hungry.” Her horns twitching, she licked her lips and sidled up to Madison. “You look like you could use the sustenance.” She trailed her hand along his arm.
Madison was my guest, my friend. Furthermore, he had no defenses against a predator like Icha. Her interest never lasted long. Because men on Dakon had few options, they accepted the crumbs of affection she tossed their way.
“Uh, that’s very thoughtful of you. Enoki is taking good care of me.” As Madison edged away, Icha dug her fingers into his arm.
“When the snow stops, I would love to show you around camp,” Icha said.
“What about your mate?” Madison asked.
“I share my kels with a male, but it is an arrangement of convenience. He cannot compare to you. A man like you could gladden a female’s heart.” Icha moved closer. “Make her long for a permanent arrangement.”
She’d said the
same thing to me once. With some men, it worked. Lonely, often racked with desire, men convinced themselves they could thaw her frozen heart, only to find out they weren’t any different from the others. Like Jotan. Was he aware Icha had begun hunting for his replacement?
Madison peered around Icha’s shoulder with a beseeching, help-me gaze. “I think Enoki had plans to show me the camp?”
I almost laughed at his comical, panicked expression, except I’d been on the receiving end of Icha’s unwanted attentions.
“Yes, I did, and we also need to arrange for Madison’s return to Earth,” I said, feeling an immediate pang. I would miss his companionship, his friendship, him.
Icha affected a pouty face, and her horns twitched with disappointment. “If you change your mind, I’m in the fifth stone hut. I’ll tie a strip of kel on the door.” After another seductive, beckoning glance, she flipped up her hood. “Enjoy the crusted phea,” she said, and sashayed out the door.
Madison exhaled.
“I think she liked you.” I laughed.
His face reddened. “She’s seems nice, but she’s not my type.”
Though I’d found amusement at his expense, I’d also felt relieved. Icha would not be right for Madison. She wasn’t right for anybody—least of all him. He deserved better.
“Well. Are you hungry? Shall we eat?” I had fresh meat in cold storage under the floor, but the crusted phea was already prepared.
His stomach rumbled, and he eyed the phea. “I feel guilty eating the food she brought…”
“Don’t. It was a fair exchange. Bringing food gave Icha the excuse she sought to see you again.”
Madison declined the ale I offered, requesting water instead, and we sat down to eat Icha’s meal. After a hesitant bite, his eyes widened with surprise. “It’s good. She did this in the flash cooker?”
“Probably not. The flash cooker works well when you want a meal quickly, but many foods require time to develop the flavors. This was baked under the coals in a wood fire.” The fowl had been combined with root vegetables and herbs inside a crust of macha. Quite tasty. Icha’s personality and behavior were less than pleasant, but you couldn’t fault her cooking skills.
I had a feeling Jotan would be eating smoked kel tonight. Icha had probably given away the meal she’d prepared for the two of them.
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about. You cook, then?” Madison asked.
“All Dakonians can prepare food. If you don’t cook, you don’t eat, you don’t survive. Can you cook?”
“I can operate a flash cooker—like most Terrans. Cooking has become a bit of a lost art.”
“I sacrificed a fire pit for cooking and heating when I moved from the stone hut to this Terran one. There’s no way to put a chimney in these huts.”
“So why did you give it up?”
“Because I’d hoped I’d be getting a female, and I thought she would be more comfortable in a Terran-style dwelling.”
“Oh. What happened to your old hut? Did you dismantle it?”
“Stone by stone? No. It’s still there on the other side of the camp. It will stand for centuries. It’s as solid as a rock.” I smiled at my joke. “Someone else has moved into it.”
“You have a pelletizer, but do any of the huts have indoor plumbing?”
“Plumbing?”
“Water lines? Pipes?”
“For what?”
“Showers, bathing.” His face fell.
“We have caves with heated pools. Dakon is riddled with hot springs, most of which bubble up naturally. In this camp, it is piped to the surface. Centuries ago, when we had technology, they tapped into the underground springs and created the pools.”
“You lost a lot when the asteroid hit,” he said.
“Almost everything. It decimated our civilization. And even though some survived, our species was dying a slow death due to the mutation causing a lack of females.”
“But it’s reversing?”
“If we can continue to get more females, then yes. Nearly all of the females who arrived in the first two groups have born kits or are with kit. But, thousands of males still need mates.” I twisted my mouth. “Myself included.”
“Please don’t take this as a criticism. I understand Dakon needs women to avoid extinction”—he averted his gaze—“but if I was a woman, I would find it hard to enter a relationship where I was desired for my ability to produce children.”
“As a species we need fertile females,” I agreed. “As individuals, we seek companionship. We bond.”
“Because you don’t have a choice. You’ll take any woman who comes along.”
“I respectfully disagree,” I said, enjoying the discourse. “We choose a female with whom we see a potential for emotional bonding.” I paused. “However, some are fortunate to have their mates chosen for them by the Fates. Those are the deepest bonds of all. We become like two halves of a whole. There can be no one else.”
I’d believed the whispers that I had a Fated mate. I longed for her, grieved when she failed to arrive. Somehow, in Madison’s company, the grief, the loneliness, the disappointment vanished. His friendship brought together the torn edges of my emotions—while stirring others.
“Do you want kits, Madison?”
“Yes.” He nodded vigorously. “I always planned to, but it hasn’t worked out for me, either.” He took a bite of the crusted phea. “Icha with her many partners—she hasn’t had any children?”
“No. That was one of the afflictions caused by the virus carried on the asteroid. Some of the few females we do have are unable to bear children, and the kits that are born usually are male.” We valued all kits; celebrated every birth, but we needed female children for species survival.
“Maybe that’s Icha’s problem. Maybe she is attempting to soothe a broken heart over not being able to have children.”
I’d never regarded her behavior in that light. “You could be right,” I said. All of us were nursing hearts being torn apart by circumstance. I had to resign myself that I would live alone, never to mate. Hypothetically, my life could change—I only had to draw a chit, but a premonition insisted the chance had passed me by.
She’s here. She’s here!
Premonition warred with crazy in my head. How could I have mistaken insanity for an omen from the Fates? The Fates never erred. I closed my eyes and grimaced.
Open your eyes.
My lids flew open.
“Are you all right?” Madison asked. A worried frown knit his brows.
“Fine,” I replied. “So, after you leave, will you come again to Dakon with another group of females?” Would I see him again?
He shook his head. “There will be more women, but I won’t be the one bringing them. I must figure out what I want out of life and make it happen. I got hired on with the exchange program as a temporary gig—but I let the time pass, literally drifting through space. I could have been married and had a baby by now.”
“Then there is no chance I could convince you to stay?”
Chapter Eleven
Madison
“He asked you to stay?” Garnet slid into the water next to me. The bathing pools in the cave were bubbly, hot, and aromatic. They didn’t smell at all like the sulfur hot springs on Earth.
“It came out of nowhere. I think it surprised him, too,” I replied. Enoki had popped the question last night over dinner. I’d felt torn; a part of me wished I could stay, but of course, it wasn’t an option.
“What did you say?”
“What do you think I said? No.”
Love existed, and I would wait for it. I’d experienced it once and to settle for anything less demeaned what Matt and I had had, what my parents still had. After thirty years, two children, two cross-country moves, three career changes, and a cancer scare, they were as crazy about each other as the day they married.
Dakonians bonded. What did that mean exactl
y? I had a “bond” with Garnet, but I didn’t want to marry her. I had a bond with my brother, but my life didn’t revolve around him—other than allowing sibling rivalry to goad me into doing something dumb like pretend to be man. Maybe love could grow out of a mating bond. But what if it didn’t? People won lotteries, however, no one recommended buying tickets as a sound retirement plan.
“Does he know yet you’re a woman?” Garnet handed me the soap.
“No. Ardu figured it out with his stupid medical scan and is threatening to tell him if I don’t, but I’m hoping I won’t have to. Enoki is going to contact Andrea and have her message the ship.”
Hopefully, I could get out of Dodge before Ardu squealed.
Don’t worry about it now. I filled my cupped hands with water and imagined my problems trickling away like the liquid through my fingers. I looked at Garnet. “I’m so glad we got to see each other one last time.”
“I am, too,” she said.
Morning had dawned surprisingly bright and clear, the lavender-blue sky free of clouds and snow. Enoki and I had finished breakfast—the last of Icha’s crusted phea—when a messenger from another tribe had arrived requesting Enoki’s assistance in settling a dispute involving a female.
“Would you like to come?” he’d asked. “I don’t know how long I’ll be at the other camp. Could be an hour, could be several.”
The freezing high-speed ride from the Meeting Place was still fresh in my mind. It wasn’t snowing now, but it was still bitterly cold. “If it’s all the same, I’ll stay here,” I said.
“I understand.” He grinned. “Fortunately, I can kill two phea with one stone. Andrea resides in a camp only a couple tripta beyond the one I’m going to. I’ll stop and ask her to contact your ship,” he said, as he hopped on the skimmer. He’d made a statement, but his gaze questioned. Have you changed your mind about staying?
“Thank you,” I’d said, ignoring the unspoken plea. “I’d appreciate that.”
