by Cally Black
Antonee tells me stories about his family. His rough voice drones low and kind, and I stretch out on the floor, my head on my arm. I go to sleep, listening to him talk. The hive warbles up through the floor, softens the hardness under my hip and shoulder, and warms a patch just for me.
WOEN SOOTSOONE
(LOVE NEVER-ENDING)
We work hard at the thirty words day after day and Antonee earns his bed back. Now I speak in Garuwa and follow it up with a translation, hoping he will hear the way the words are whistled in sentences.
We work on the thirty and we talk. We talk about his family, his crews, his travels, how he left two fingers frozen to a helium-3 tank, and how they still hurt him even though they’re not there no more, like maybe the finger-stumps remember that biting cold. Him, rubbing the stumps as he tells me. We talk about his tatts. The compass on the back of his hand points him home, he says. Cos it has the initials of his wife and children on it and they are his home. Same as Lazella used to be mine. He holds his hand out and makes me point to each set of initials and then tells me a story.
MJ: Merrilee, the daughter who he lives with when he’s not captaining. He named her Merrilee so she’d be happy, but she’s too serious.
DJ: Daniel, the grandson who is my age now. He likes history, code-breaking, skateboarding and soccer.
‘What’s code-breaking?’ I ask.
‘Oh, like ciphers, or codes for sending messages,’ he says. ‘Like morse. Morse is a series of dashes and dots, so it’s a good one. You can send messages using light or sound or touch or blinks, or anything really. Daniel and I have our own code based on morse. He was always saying one thing and blinking another. Or standing behind his mother tapping out a silent tune on his cheek with one finger to send me a secret message.’ He tap-slides a finger on the floor. ‘It’s “G” for “got it” – our way to say, “understood”.’
I tap-slide back.
He laughs, and his short grey beard jiggles on his chin. Never mind he hasn’t been able to shave, his head is still bald as Gub’s bum.
He teaches me some Daniel-code words and I learn the words in taps and blinks. Then I use my poking-out tongue to spell the word, ‘arse’.
Antonee shakes his head and grins. ‘You’re just like my Dan,’ he says. ‘Too bloody cheeky. You know, you have a real talent for picking things up. If I had a memory as young and useful as yours, Tootoopne and I would be chatting over a cup of tea like lovers at breakfast.’
‘Sha!’ I say at the idea of Antonee and Tootoopne in love. I don’t say my memory is also a curse, cos never mind that little Gub is slipping away day by day, I can see Lazella’s face, smudged with blood, clear as anything. I can see it anywhere.
‘This is our sign-off,’ he says. ‘It’s based on a real morse of 88 meaning hugs and kisses. That’s the usual sign-off. Ours is just one fat cat, 8, it means hugs and love. Because cats are cuddly, Dan made this up when he was smaller, you know, and …’ He loops his finger in the air doing a sideways 8 over and over, ‘… love goes on forever. It’s great because it fits in a four beat, like a song.’ Antonee whistles, ‘Tweet, tweet, tweet, tootoo,’ just like he’s starting off a song. Then he claps three single beats and a double. ‘Eight,’ he says. ‘The fat cat of love never-ending.’
I copy him.
He sighs like I’m a piece of home. Then he holds out the back of his hand again so I can see the compass tattoo. I point to the AJ.
‘Alina,’ Antonee says, and blinks the dampness from his hazel eyes. ‘My wife. She died three years ago. Broke my heart.’
The way he says it, like a darkness falls on him, so he has to peer out from under it when he talks about her – that’s me, thinking about Lazella.
‘My heart broke for my aunt,’ I whisper, cos I always think of her in whispers.
He nods, swallows and blinks, then reaches out a hand to me. I’ve never touched the captain. When I give him food and drink I stand just far enough away. He’s a prisoner and prisoners do things to get free. Plus, I never trusted any Sixers before. But cos we are sitting opposite with our hearts broken, I shuffle forwards and take his hand.
His grip is strong as, and he tilts his head towards mine until our foreheads touch. I’ve not sat like this with anyone since I left the Layla, and it’s strange, but it helps me feel not so alone. We sit forehead to forehead, our two hearts beating opposite, and the pain in that large old bald skull of his spreads its sharp claws and scratches at the dark and hurting places in my head.
Places we share.
‘Oh girly,’ he whispers, quiet as, and he kisses the back of my hand and gives it back.
TOOANA TUWUUOSO
(THE SQUAD NEEDS YOU)
The next day, we’re just ten words in when the hive groans and shudders. I throw myself against the wall, press my ear to it, hear the painful warbles. An attack, a burning scar. The captain asks what’s going on but I wave a hand at him. The hive wants the thing that’s hurting her to stop right now. She wants minerals to repair. She needs help.
I sink back to the floor. ‘It’s nothing,’ I tell the captain, and I try to steer my head back to the words, but Tootoopne strides in dressed in full battle gear. I jump up and salute her.
I take a deep breath. It’s been long as since I went on a raid. I thought I’d never have to again.
Tootoopne hands me my helmet and whistles, ‘The squad needs you.’
I’m ready to scream ‘No!’ but she takes something from her jacket pocket and holds it out to me. Something small, black and shiny.
I bob my head and take it. It’s a small utility knife. I open up the tools. A blade, a prong and a lever.
‘Every squad member carries one,’ Tootoopne says, like now I’m trusted or something. ‘There’s a pocket in your boot.’
‘Thank you, Tootoopne.’ I bob my head again, put my helmet on the floor while I slip the tool into the panel inside my boot. A gift, from Tootoopne?
‘Swa tu Tzaar,’ Tootoopne says. For the hive.
‘Swa tu Tzaar,’ I repeat.
‘Tweetoo waits on the landing,’ Tootoopne says as she leaves the washroom.
‘What’s going on, girly?’ the captain asks.
‘The squad needs me,’ I say.
‘Where are you going and why did she give you a knife?’ Antonee asks. He takes two steps towards me and holds out his hand.
‘Tweetoo is waiting,’ I say and shove my helmet on.
‘Weku?’
I hurry out of the bathroom.
‘Girly?’ Antonee calls. Then he claps out, ‘Clap, clap, clap, clip-clip.’ It’s 8. One fat cat. Hugs and love never-ending.
TOORWOO
(KEEP MOVING)
The raid is like the one where we picked up Captain James. There’s hardly a crew on Starweaver Lucy in the Sky, all older men and women, and I imagine their grandchildren starving without them. These people must need money, same as Antonee. Starweaver lied to Antonee about how many ships got through. Lied to these people too, or else why would they be here?
We battle through the blocked-off corridors, me looking for a chance to slip away, Teeka always shoving me on, until we get to the flight deck.
‘Hold your fire! We want to negotiate!’ I yell, and this time I hope it’s the truth. This time I hope Tootoopne has a new plan for the captains, like Captain James.
The firing stops. ‘Tāmāde! You want us. You come get us!’ an older woman’s voice yells from the flight deck.
‘Please!’ I say. ‘If they come after you they’ll kill you.’
‘Those murdering Vultures never spared no-one yet. We’ll take our chances!’ she yells.
‘Are you the captain?’
‘Who’s asking?’ she growls.
‘Weku. I’m their translator,’ I say. ‘Please come out and talk.’
‘Translator bitch! Translate this!’ Then she lets loose with swears I’ve only ever heard McVeigh use when he dropped a cargo hook on his foot in the storeroom. Wea
pon-fire snaps and sizzles the walls above me.
I duck and hit the cold floor. ‘They will not come out,’ I say as I scramble back to Tootoopne. She bats me into the wall and organises the squad.
The people on the flight deck shoot. The squad duck and surge forwards.
I’m turning to run when Tweetoo pulls me after the squad. But I don’t go into battle! I’m here to stop battles. Human weapons bang all around us. The squad whistles through the smoke. Someone squeals, a Garuwa voice, and my heart stops. Who’s hit? Our weapons blam and parts of the flight deck disintegrate. A man screams. Chunks of metal will be chopping them to pieces. I trip on a foot. A squad boot. Wooloo! Wooloo is down. I drop to my knees and crawl to her head.
‘Wooloo!’ I squeal.
‘I’m okay!’ she whistles.
Burning flesh stink fills my nostrils, my gagging throat. I check her shoulder where she grips it. A deep burn has sliced through her muscle and her wing. It’s not bleeding much. I pull a vial off her belt and stab it through her sleeve into her arm, never mind my hands are shaking so bad I almost drop it. I grab her good arm and help her sit up.
‘Keep your head down!’ Wooloo whistles and shoves me back towards Tootoopne.
A weapon blams right beside me. I hit the floor, then scramble up again. I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve never been under this much fire. I get in behind Tootoopne. She steps over a body, helmet smoking. It’s Teeka. My friend. She’s not moving. I reach down to take her helmet off, but Tootoopne grabs me, and we’re surging forwards again. I have to keep low, ducking down behind Tootoopne, who knows how not to get shot. I don’t want my Gub growing up alone, no-one to hold him when the ache of hunger gets too much to bear, no-one to look on him with eyes of love.
Then the shooting stops. Everyone stands taller, never mind the gravity of Six crushing in on us. We shuffle through the bits of broken consoles, chairs and walls. The haze clears.
Tootoopne shoves me to where Tweetoo stands on the wrist of a woman, pinning her hand and weapon to the floor. The old woman has cuts all over her body and a gaping hole in her hip and thigh. A larger weapon lies on her other side. She don’t struggle. Beside her on the floor a man sits slumped over his stomach, holding it like it might slide away. His shirt is shredded under his hands, blood seeping through. It’s too late for me to plead for their lives. They’re bleeding to death right in front of me.
‘Which is the leader?’ Tootoopne asks.
I’m sure it’s the woman. She spoke, and the man has a tatt of a racer on his forearm. I’ve seen tattoos like that before on pilots. They like all vehicles, large and small. I point to the woman.
‘She is a proud fighter,’ Tootoopne says and bobs her head to the woman.
A blam ends the pilot’s agony. Tweetoo leans down with her hot knife and takes the captain’s hand, fingers still wrapped around her weapon, and passes it to Tootoopne. It goes into Tootoopne’s trophy pouch, weapon and all. I don’t dare breathe.
This captain don’t scream, don’t watch her own hand leaving her. Her eyes on me. Her teeth grinding. ‘They admire your pride,’ I tell her. My voice comes out thick and croaky like I’ve been crying. My throat locking away my voice like it always does when I need it most.
She nods, like maybe she’s grateful for my words, and then Tweetoo finishes her off with a quick slice through her throat. One second she’s looking at me through alive eyes, then they’re flat.
My knees buckle as the burnt ring around her throat seeps blood. Tweetoo grabs me and turns me and we follow Tootoopne back out. We step over Teeka. The weapon sliced right across Teeka’s eye socket. There was nothing to stop it cutting deep into her brain. ‘Teeka!’ I squeal, reaching for her.
‘Keep moving,’ Tweetoo whistles. ‘Keep moving.’
She won’t let me stop until I’m tucked into the back of her flyer and heading back to the hive.
‘Okay, little one?’ she asks.
I suck in air in a big sobbing breath and I can’t answer. Tears float off my face.
‘Why wouldn’t they come out?’ Tweetoo asks.
After a couple of minutes I thin my lips enough to whistle. ‘They knew that Garuwa kill everyone. They wanted to die fighting.’
‘You did your job, Weku. We can’t ask more,’ Tweetoo says.
‘I’m sorry, Tweetoo.’ My face is in my hands, my knees pulled up to my chest trying to squash the ache. ‘Will they bring Teeka home?’ I ask.
She squeezes my shoulder. ‘Yes. Teeka protected the hive. She was a good sister to us, as are you.’
TSO WA SOOL
(DO THE WORDS)
When we get back to the hive, Tweetoo flies me straight up to the squad rooms and tells me to clean up. ‘I’m taking you back to finish your words with Antonee,’ she says.
‘I can’t!’ I shake my head and drop to the floor.
‘You can,’ she says. ‘Tootoopne says you can.’
While I’m showering, she cleans the blood off my helmet and boots, then brings me clean clothes. Before I know it, I’m stumbling in off the landing at Tootoopne’s office. The freighter captain’s hand is already in the cabinet, weapon and all. I run past, my eyes not letting me look away, and stumble into the washroom sideways.
‘Weku?’ Captain James asks.
I spin around and face him.
‘You seen a ghost, girl?’ he asks.
Can he see what I’ve seen, reflected in my eyes? I back up against the wall. My helmet clunks. One day he’ll leave the washroom and he’ll see all those hands. What then?
‘Calm down, girl. Take off your helmet,’ he says.
I shake my head and slide down to the floor, where he can’t reach me.
‘Weku?’ he asks. When I don’t move, he taps out on the table: ‘Dah, dah, dah, di-di.’
The code reaches into my head. The rhythm of love. One, two, three, four-five. Meaning 8, the fat cat of love never-ending.
‘Le– let’s do the words,’ I say. My voice is hollow through the helmet’s beak.
‘You’re shaking. You can hardly speak. What happened?’ He strains at the cord that holds his hand to the wall.
‘Jus– just tell me the words you le– learned this morning,’ I say.
‘No. The words don’t matter,’ he says. ‘I don’t care if I lose a blanket or a meal. I can’t stand to see you like this. Where did you go?’
I drop my head so my helmet rests on my knees and my long fake nose stabs me in the stomach. ‘We took another ship,’ I whisper.
‘Oh.’ He’s silent for a while. ‘Survivors?’
I shake my head.
‘Bad, huh?’
I don’t answer. I can’t explain how I hoped the raids were over cos of Tootoopne keeping him alive. How Teeka died and Wooloo was injured cos I couldn’t do my job, but how I never wanted my job ever, anyway.
‘Slide over here, and take my hand. It’ll be all right,’ he says.
I don’t. I take out Headless and hold him close to my neck. I shouldn’t be here. I should be with Gub. But maybe he’s not even alive no more, cos if he was, it would’ve been a miracle, and wouldn’t Antonee have heard about it? Maybe there wasn’t enough food for him in the storeroom. Maybe nobody found him on the first search of the ship. Maybe he was locked in the storeroom the whole way back to Dios. Maybe he’s still locked in there! Life support systems shut off. The spin shut off. Just a tiny frozen body floating in the storeroom, bumping into all the rubbish.
‘Weku,’ the captain says. ‘We’re family. We’ll get through this together. Slide over here.’
I slide over, never mind there’s no family without my little cousin. I slide towards the hand reaching out for me even as I slip into the darkness of my own mind telling me Gub is dead. Antonee grabs my hand and pulls me close beside him. He wraps his free arm around me and squeezes. Our hearts, side by side, beating together.
‘You’re going to be all right, kid. You’re going to be fine,’ he says softly. His rough d
eep voice sounds sure as, never mind he has no idea how it really is.
After a while, I take off my helmet and dry my face on the backs of my hands. Antonee ruffles my hair. ‘See, better already. Do you want to talk about it?’
‘Can we do the words now?’ I ask.
Captain James sighs. ‘Yoisho. If you want.’
I do want. I don’t want to talk about the raid. I slip the dinosaur back in my pocket and focus on teaching the captain more words, but when Tootoopne comes, Antonee has only learnt seven more.
I salute, and Captain James bobs his head. He rattles off those he knows.
Tootoopne looks from me to the captain. She’s not angry like normal. She just stares back and forth like she’s trying to figure out what to do with us.
The waiting is too much for Antonee. He explodes into bad Garuwa. ‘Why Weku go? She child! She not fight!’ he whistles and steps towards Tootoopne, pulling on the cord.
And Tootoopne hits Antonee so hard, his feet lift off the floor as he flies backwards and hits the wall.
SUTU TOOANA
(I AM SQUAD)
‘Tootoopne!’ I squeal.
Tootoopne spins and I duck a wing aimed at me. Antonee rights himself. Already a white lump ringed in red has formed on the side of his head. He eyes off Tootoopne like he’s going to have another go.
‘Antonee!’ I squeal. ‘Stop! I had to go with them. I am squad!’ I follow it up with a whistle translation.
‘Weku is squad,’ Tootoopne repeats, rounding back on Captain James. Pulling herself up to tower over him, the pink scar under her pale grey eye twitching out a warning.
I step towards Antonee. ‘There is nowhere for me in this hive. If not for Tootoopne, I would be dead. If not for my job in the squad, I would be dead.’
Antonee stares at Tootoopne like it’s a challenge and Tootoopne stares back. But Tootoopne is growing with every second and Antonee is wilting.
‘Please stop, Antonee,’ I whisper. ‘Tootoopne is a great warrior but she spared us. She is the only one who can keep us safe.’