by Cally Black
Captain James steps back and stares at me. Then he bobs his head at Tootoopne and whistles her name.
‘Out,’ Tootoopne orders. And I hurry to the door.
I hover there while Tootoopne dips her head at the captain, low and menacing. ‘Weku is squad,’ she whistles again. ‘Weku is my squad.’
Antonee sees me hovering. He don’t take his eyes off Tootoopne but traces a sideways 8 in the air with the index finger of his free hand. ‘Weku is Tootoopne squad,’ Antonee whistles, then adds, ‘Weku is family.’
Tootoopne bats him away as she turns towards the door. I duck through to the office.
Never mind that Tootoopne’s temper is still boiling hot when she follows me, she changes the topic. ‘Tweetoo said the last leader would rather fight than surrender.’
‘Yes, Tootoopne.’ I look at the floor. ‘I’m sorry Teeka is dead and squad are hurt.’
‘Yes. The humans are beginning to know us,’ she says. ‘They fought well for so few.’ She pauses and tilts her head at me, her anger boiling slowly away. ‘Antonee is angry, but you know you can only be squad?’
I bob my head. ‘I know.’
Tootoopne nods slowly. ‘You saved my life and I would not ask my children to do as you do, but this is a hive for Garuwa.’
‘I am not like Twilloo. I understand. You saved me by letting me join the squad.’ I meet Tootoopne’s eyes and whistle, quiet as, ‘If only there wasn’t so much death.’
Tootoopne takes a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry you saw so much today. But if not their deaths, it will be ours. Go back to the squad, now. Understand your place.’
I bob, and go out to the landing. Tweetoo waits. She blinks at me and tilts her head.
‘I’m okay,’ I say and hold out my arm.
She grabs me and we fly back to the squad rooms.
‘How is Wooloo?’ I ask as we glide.
‘She is already back. You can ask her yourself,’ Tweetoo says.
‘Is the squad angry I couldn’t call them out?’ I ask.
‘If anyone is angry, they don’t remember how many lives we lost before you came,’ Tweetoo says. But it don’t change that Teeka died cos I failed.
Understand my place. I am squad, my uniform says so, my Garuwa friends say so, the leader of the squad says so, but if I can’t do anything to help the squad stay alive at the flight deck, a job I never asked for anyway, then my place is losing grav big time.
TOORDOO!
(GONE!)
Making breakfast for the squad and Antonee is like my morning hello with Lazella. It’s like maybe I’ve found a small part of her again, cos she talks to me about cooking in my head. ‘More salt!’ she says, and, ‘Balance the sweet and the sour.’ And I look down on myself, rummaging through packets of stolen human food and pots of hive-grown food, like I looked down on Lazella from the grille above the kitchen. And never mind I’m heavy-hearted and lonely for her when the cooking is done, I feel that never-ending love of hers drifting in space, waiting in the dark. I can find my aunt in the kitchen, in the food, in me. If Gub’s still out there, if I ever get back to him, then I’ll cook for him and teach him about his mother. If.
The day after the raid, I stop speaking English to Antonee.
‘You know I can’t ask hard questions in Garuwa!’ he complains, onto my plan quick as.
I wink ‘arse’ at him.
And he winks back ‘G’ for ‘got it’. He still tells me stories of his family, breaking into English all the time, and I still tell him stories about little Tamiki in Garuwa, holding up Headless so he knows who I’m talking about. Talking about Gub is my only way to connect to him now, to pull him close to me even as memories of him slip away.
Antonee’s understanding of the whistles grows, and black scrawls fill the walls. ‘The words that keep him prisoner,’ Tootoopne said. I like to imagine that when the walls are filled in black, she will let him go. But how can that ever be a thing, here?
Now when Tootoopne comes in to hear the thirty, she asks Antonee simple questions. I help Antonee with the whistles for his answers.
Questions like, ‘Do you have enough to eat?’ and ‘How many humans did you command?’
She does this every day, and the questions get harder. But soon I’m not even helping, and Antonee just asks me to explain what he don’t understand. Then he learns to ask Tootoopne in Garuwa.
Tootoopne bobs her head and talks to Antonee, with me just watching.
And while I’m watching, what I see is Antonee’s face not so hard anymore. I see his mouth lift at Tootoopne making silly guesses about humans, and him push the corners of his mouth back straight. Tootoopne comes into the washroom now with her shoulders relaxed and wings tucked behind her, and bobs her head at the captain like she’s meeting another Garuwa. She waits for him to find the words to explain the world of the Sixers and the shipping companies. What I’m seeing now is two people beginning to get along. A human and a Garuwa, showing me that there can be understanding, cos this is the greatest Garuwa warrior that ever lived, and an old man who lost his friends and is being kept from his family. If they can get along, maybe there is a way to end the fighting.
‘She’s a smart old bird, that one,’ Antonee says to me. ‘She’ll have Starweaver Shipping dancing a jig to give her anything she wants before long.’
Which sets me wondering what it is Tootoopne really wants. I would’ve guessed lots of dead humans before, but now, seeing her with Antonee, I’m guessing, hoping maybe, that she is gearing up to make a deal. Cos making peace between Garuwa and humans would mean some kind of communication, maybe, and if we’re talking to humans, I could find out about Gub for sure.
One day, after Tootoopne has heard the thirty and talked about shipping with Antonee until I’m almost asleep, she turns to me. ‘Weku, you have done a good job. We need you on squad tomorrow. Go get some sleep now.’
My heart drops. Since Teeka died, I’ve been thinking there’s no point to me being in the squad and maybe that was my last raid.
‘Tootoopne!’ I say and salute, to show her I respect her, cos I’m about to make her mad. ‘Why not talk to these ones? Me and Antonee can help.’
Tootoopne’s wings hitch up, and I step back, but she’s just eyeing me off like she’s trying to find some patience. ‘This ship is not passing through. It is searching for us. If it were seeking peace it would go back where it came from. It is searching for blood.’
‘But you can do a trade, like Antonee said. They might pay for peace in minerals. The hives would be safe and fed,’ I say, pushing my luck, cos Tootoopne never explained herself to no-one before.
‘This hive takes care of me, my family, my squad and you. There are risks I will not take. You will go back to the squad and stay there until we go. Swa tu Tzaar.’
‘Swa tu Tzaar,’ I repeat, and salute. I whistle soft as, ‘I just wish there was a hive for us humans.’ I’m so heavy I can’t hardly turn to Antonee. I can tell by the way he searches my face that he understands. ‘We’ll work on the words after I get back,’ I whistle, like I’m not falling to pieces, and head for the door.
Antonee bobs his head just like a Garuwa. Taps out ‘8’ on the table. One fat cat of love never-ending. He’s worried for me.
Tootoopne stays with Antonee, to ask him more questions, maybe. It’s weird that they can talk without me.
My sleep is all tossing and sweating and staring at the dark, so I’m up early and making breakfast for the squad before we go out, never mind I can’t eat a thing.
Tweetoo follows me out after a while, hauling on her battle jacket.
‘Fly me down to leave breakfast for Antonee?’ I ask.
‘We’re supposed to wait for Tootoopne’s talk,’ Tweetoo says.
‘I’ll be so quick, we’ll be back before she even knows.’ I hold up Antonee’s bowl of food. ‘It’s all ready.’
Tweetoo looks around at the other Garuwa stumbling from their rooms, following the smell of the beans in chilli sauce a
nd fried green kooloo I’ve cooked up for their breakfast. They’re hauling on jackets. None are ready yet.
‘Come on, little sister,’ she says, and with me holding the bowl for Antonee, I run with her to the landing.
Tweetoo waits on Tootoopne’s war-room landing while I go into the washroom, a pretend smile hoisted on my lips so I don’t show the worry in my head.
The washroom’s empty.
SWAL WA ZAAN
(ALL THE CAPTAINS)
The cord lies on the bed, still tied to the wall. Antonee’s blanket’s bunched to one end like he got up in a hurry.
My throat tightens. I drop the bowl on the table and run back out to Tweetoo. ‘Antonee’s gone!’
Tweetoo comes in and checks like maybe I can miss seeing a full-grown man in a small washroom.
‘She can’t have escaped!’ I whistle. There’s no way off the landing, and never mind that the hive let him in, she wouldn’t save him if he jumped, or let him out to the mini-flyers.
‘Tootoopne must have moved her,’ Tweetoo says, but on the way back through the war room, she stops and stares at the cabinet.
‘What?’ I ask. The dark cabinet of hands. I run at it. Eleven spaces full when there were nine before. Nine, plus the captain of Lucy in the Sky holding a weapon. Ten. Plus … the captain of the My Sharona.
‘Weku, stop!’ Tweetoo tweets.
There’s a hand. A new hand. A new hand with two stumpy fingers and something dark on the back of it. I can’t breathe. ‘Turn the light on!’ I whistle.
‘Weku, you don’t –’
‘Turn it on!’ I squeal.
Tweetoo won’t. She backs away. ‘Let’s go,’ she says.
I drag a bench to the cabinet and stand on it. Up close the hand has the edge of a dark circle on it, and the initials DJ. A tattoo of a compass.
I shove myself away from it, fall off the bench onto my knees. I hunch down, my face in my hands, and rock back and forth, sucking at air that won’t move anywhere near me. My throat shrinks. My eyes burn.
How could she do this? Was all that work for one conversation? Did she get what she wanted from Antonee, then kill him? I was part of this. I hate me. I hate Tootoopne.
‘Weku?’ Tweetoo touches me and I whimper. ‘Stand up, little sister,’ she says, and tugs at my jacket. She lifts me by the arm. ‘For the hive, Weku,’ she pleads. I stand and blink through tears. Those shit-arse trophies. I run to grab something off the table to smash the cabinet. Tweetoo drags me, kicking and struggling, and pulls me off the landing. She flies me back to the squad rooms, me hanging like a rag. My heart split open, dying.
The squad are already moving to their flyers by the time we get up there, so we turn around and follow them. I’m all stumbling and blinking tears as Tweetoo shoves my helmet on and pushes me towards her flyer. I can’t look at Tootoopne. I can’t do anything.
‘Weku!’ Tweetoo shakes my shoulder.
‘Antonee was my friend, Tweetoo,’ I say after take-off. ‘She said we were family.’
‘I understand,’ Tweetoo says. ‘When family die, your life empties all at once. But Tootoopne is a warrior, the greatest that ever lived. A warrior must have her trophies. She must take the captains. All the captains. She has to show she has protected the hive. This is how it is. This is how it always is.’
‘It don’t have to be!’ I whistle. ‘Not Antonee.’
I touch the soft velvet of Tweetoo’s wing. When it’s my turn, when Tootoopne has no use for me, will Tweetoo say, ‘This is how it is,’ as she slices my throat for Tootoopne?
This raid, this ship, is my last chance to escape. I can’t call people out no more, and there’s no Antonee to teach to speak, so I’m no use to Tootoopne. And it don’t matter that she seems to like me. I thought she liked Antonee. My tiny Garuwa tool is in my boot, and I hope I don’t have to slash Tweetoo or Wooloo to get away, but no-one’s gonna stop me this time.
I’ll hide on board this next freighter and, after the killings, when the Garuwa are gone, when the humans are all dead, I’ll steal a uniform and ID, fake my way onto the tow ship heading back away from the Garuwa, and find my little Tamiki.
My arms ache like they wanna be holding him now. All this. All I’ve done to stay alive to get back to him, it’s gotta work out. I pull out Headless and hold him to my lips. Gub’s gotta be safe.
DESERTED
The landing bay of the Jolene is as deserted as the Lucy in the Sky. Nobody stops us busting through the safety airlock. But I won’t be hanging round to kill no old Sixers on the flight deck, I’ll be long gone.
I’m scanning, scanning for some grilles to pop, my little multi-tool gripped tight, still warm from my boot. I’m following the squad out of the flyers towards Stores, the coldness of the air choking at my throat. The stress of what I’m about to do hammering at my heart.
The door to Stores One rolls open as we get there, and I’m wondering why that is, but a deep roar above has us all twisting our heads to see. It’s rockets! Human rockets coming through the airlock after us, firing on the Garuwa flyers! The little round ships, defenceless and untethered, bouncing as each shot hits and smokes. And shouting in Stores One down the ramp in front of us. It’s not got bulk tanks in it, but armed humans, lined up behind some kind of heavy rubbery wall, weapons pointing at us!
The first smack of weapons at the floor around us and I’m down, bouncy-scrambling on hands and feet in the low grav, but Tweetoo leaps into the air, hooks me with one claw, and flicks me up to the wall above. I latch on to a pipe, easy as, so light here, I’m like some wall-walking movie superhero. Above me is a vent. Below me, Garuwa weapons are pounding, human weapons are snapping back, and people are yelling and screaming, but never mind all that, I’m clawing along the pipe for that vent. I use the tool to lever off the grille, the freighter shuddering so much it’s hard to get the tool into the gap with just one hand, but I rip the grille off and dive into the duct. Me, crawling like mad, getting out of there, leaving the Garuwa for good.
‘Weku!’ Tweetoo calls into the duct behind me. Was she hit? Did she see me leaving her there to die? No. Think of Tamiki. It’s my Gub I have to care about, not the Garuwa. I pull off my helmet and go on. I don’t look back.
I know this duct, it leads out to Stores Two, usually where they store heavy stuff, bulk stuff, but this time it’s full of small rockets. This freighter is armed. This freighter ain’t really a freighter. It’s a trap.
I lie safe in the darkness of the duct, getting my breath back and listening to the sounds of battle. The different weapons argue back and forth like they’re thinking for themselves cos the screams and whistles and shouts around them don’t make sense. Well, they don’t make sense in words. They make sense in all the tones they carry. Fear, hate, anger. It’s in the voices, and it’s in the whistles. It goes on around me. But it’s not my problem. Not no more.
Flyers start up, whining. Seems like plenty of Garuwa are getting away, and I’m glad for them. Glad that my squad, but my squad no more, gets to live.
Then comes the silence, settling in too heavy, too sudden after all that noise.
I did it.
I’ve left the Garuwa.
THE WEKU CALLS
Down below me is a bank of ten lockers. People will be busy with clean-up. I kick off my boots and cut the talons off the back. These are good human-looking boots, never mind who made them. I wriggle out of my jacket, rescue the headless dinosaur from the pocket, and throw the jacket up the duct. The cold eats into my shoulders right away, the Garuwa shirt too thin to keep it out. I put Headless into the pocket in my boot where the tool’s supposed to sit. Put the tool between my teeth.
I pull my boots back on and kick my heel hard on the grille, then slide over the edge of the hole. I dangle by my hands, drop, hit the floor, barely a sound, and bounce behind one of the rockets.
Then I make for the lockers, long low-grav strides. The first couple I try are empty, the third has overalls covered in streaks of rust
and grease. ‘Tāmāde,’ I whisper. The next two have a squarish coat, new, but too big and a weird kind of red, and a smaller black jacket, worn and faded and frayed around the cuffs. I pull it on. Still too big, but at least it’ll keep the freezing air from biting. I push my cold hands into the pockets.
Boots clunk behind me. One pair, thudding fast like they seen me. I climb into a metal locker full of stinky greasy gear and pull the door shut. Scrunched on the floor, arms wrapped around my knees, holding my breath, listening in the dark.
Pock! Pock! Pock! Round lights wink on above me in the locker door. Something hits the back wall of the locker. Hot metal falls on my shoulder and burns through my jacket.
‘Stop! I’m human!’ I scream. I slide the tool into the back corner of the locker. Nothing that makes me look too Garuwa is gonna be good for me.
‘Identify yourself!’ a man yells.
‘Ship’s engineer!’ I say quickly.
‘Who the hell are you?’ he yells, and my idea to pretend to be crew seems stupid as.
The boots stomp closer, the door chinks open and the nozzle of a weapon pokes in.
I lift my hands. ‘Don’t shoot me!’ I say. The door flies all the way open and smacks against the locker beside it.
The guy standing there looks like a storeman. Probably why he’s popping off shots at locker doors.
‘Who the hell are you?’ he says again, nervy as.
Who the hell am I?
I’m Weku, the one who screams life into the darkness.
I’m family to my little Tamiki, the only one he has.
I look up at him and drop my hands.
‘I’m Tamara,’ I say, loud as any Sixer, loud enough to call my name alive from the darkness.
SMALLEST VULTURE I'VE EVER SEEN
I swing my legs out of the locker and stand up, never mind the guy’s not lowering the weapon.