by Ann Aguirre
“It’s okay,” she said.
Beryl was used to life giving her the toughest breaks. Before her mom died, the woman hadn’t been the best, full of dire predictions and negative energy, and she when Beryl was twenty. Never even met my dad. Without parental support, she’d gotten an associate’s degree in early childhood education and found a job at a daycare. After that, life was a series of people passing through—a couple of girlfriends, a few boyfriends—but nobody ever stuck around. She’d had casual friends, but not the sort who would grieve deeply over her disappearance. The fact was, she didn’t have anyone to go back to, and while it was crappy that she couldn’t enjoy certain things again—like Jacuzzi tubs and ice cream—she had a new life here, one where she mattered.
The tears dried. While her existence on Barath might be batshit in some ways, it was also a nonstop adventure. And she wasn’t sorry about meeting Zylar.
“You gave me choices all along,” she said. “And at every turn, I picked you.”
“Stop talking to your pet,” the Technical staffer snapped. “And accept the transfer of your restored AI. Once we have your approval, we will reactivate Helix’s access to your quarters and your personal vessel.”
“She is my intended, not my pet.” After standing up for Beryl, Zylar went and did the red tape stuff that existed even on an alien world like Barath.
By the time he finished dealing with the details, Beryl had herself under control. Now it was more important than ever that they complete the Choosing together and get approval from the Matriarch. There was no road home anymore, only the path she would walk here with Zylar.
She didn’t cry in the end. Just as well, it would probably upset Zylar if he saw her eyes leaking. He already thought humans had extremely weird physiology.
“That’s everything,” said the Technical Department worker. “Thank you for your patronage. The service fee has been deducted, as previously agreed.”
“Understood. I’ll expect to find Helix active on our return.” Zylar gestured at Beryl, and she followed him out of the office.
Things were quiet on the way back, and Beryl suspected he was blaming himself, despite the fact that she’d cleared him. It wasn’t like he’d caused the sun flares or sabotaged his own AI. They’d ended up together through a massive screw-up of cosmic proportions, and maybe such a complex series of missteps could also be viewed as fate. We’re supposed to be together, right?
She chose to believe that, anyway.
Hurrying to catch up, she set a hand on his neck, the soft skin where she was sure he could feel the touch. At first he flinched away, then he quieted and eased back into her touch. It seemed like the Barathi didn’t do soft contact this way.
“No regrets,” she said quietly.
“I will make you happy.”
“You already do.”
When they stepped into their quarters, Snaps went wild, circling their legs with happy bounces, bumping against them both until he got scratches and pets. “How long do I have to be alone, alone, so completely alone?” he whined, rolling over to display a pink belly lightly covered with curly beige fur.
“Not too much longer,” Beryl promised. “I appreciate how good you’re being. We’ll go visit the garden in a bit.”
“After food?” he asked.
“You got it, buddy.”
“Greetings, Zylar. Who are these strangers?” That was Helix, unscrambled but also unfamiliar with Beryl and Snaps.
He doesn’t remember us.
She let Zylar sum up the situation, and then her Chosen—how cool to call him that officially—performed the introductions. “It’s nice to meet you,” Beryl said.
“Let me explain how I can assist you. This is a smart habitat, and I can be useful in many capacities. For instance, if you require sustenance—”
“Do not take orders from Snaps,” she cut in quickly.
God, imagine if the dog could order as many food cubes as he wanted. Instant chaos.
“The small one is incapable of directing me?” Helix asked.
“That’s mean. I’m a very good boy,” said Snaps. He put his face under his front paws.
Beryl tried to comfort him while Zylar skirted the issue. “Snaps is young and unfamiliar with our customs. When he matures, we will revisit the issue of his command permissions.”
“Understood,” Helix said. “Just let me express how pleased I am for you, Zylar. As a drone, you would no longer qualify to receive my assistance, and it is good to see that you will not live out your existence in grim solitude.”
Beryl tried not to laugh. That didn’t come across as much of a blessing. “Is he always this much fun?”
Zylar churred. “Still, I’m glad to have him back.”
“I have a question…”
“Speak,” said Helix.
“Er, I’m talking to Zylar.” This would take some getting used to. “If I’m addressing you, I’ll use your name. How’s that?”
“Disappointing, but I shall make a note of this preference,” the AI said.
“Since the technology exists to create offspring for us, could they make a few siblings for Snaps, from his DNA?”
Barath could totally use more dogs. Though Beryl hadn’t been to every planet, she’d stand firm on the opinion that most worlds could benefit from canines.
“It is possible. We would need to file an application after our union is approved.”
“Then that’s my first request as your Terrible One.” What the hell. If she couldn’t get him to change that endearment, she might as well lean into it.
“I’ll see to it,” he promised.
Snaps perked up. “More dogs? Best day!”
They fed him his dinner, and Beryl ate her own cube, and she was about to remind Zylar about the reading lessons when the chime sounded.
“Ryzven has arrived,” Helix announced. “Shall I let him in?”
“Go ahead,” Zylar said.
Ryzven strode in like he owned the place, and he arrowed to Zylar, for once not even glancing at Beryl. His anger practically surrounded him like an electrical field, creating an uncomfortable charge.
“I can’t prove it, but I know you’re the one who reported me.”
Beryl didn’t move, afraid that she might make matters worse, no matter what she said. And Zylar was so afraid of Ryzven—
Or he had been.
This was a new Zylar, who didn’t flinch or avert his gaze. In fact, he even flared his spines to show he wasn’t intimidated. “Your accusations are unwelcome,” he said coolly. “And thus, so are you. Please leave.”
Ryzven hissed, his own spines spiking out in a display of utter aggression. “No one crosses me and goes on to prosper. You’ll regret what you’ve done, and I will gloat when I take everything from you.” He flicked a look at Beryl, and then stormed out.
Zylar hurried to her side, as if he feared she would be wrecked by these threats. He grasped her shoulders carefully and stared down into her face. “I’m sorry. But don’t worry, I won’t let him—”
“He’s nothing. And I think he’s starting to realize it. Assholes are always angry when they figure out how little they matter. I’m your Chosen, no matter what.”
As he turned away, Zylar spoke so softly that he probably didn’t realize she could hear him. “Please, let that be true.”
[ 17 ]
After Ryzven made his threats, Zylar didn’t sleep well. For most of the cycle, he watched Beryl, curled against him with the most profoundly peaceful expression. Her ability to shut down, despite the uncertainty of their situation…he admired it.
But her calm tormented him as well. Because it meant she trusted him, and he feared himself inadequate to defeat the monster he had roused.
Lightly, he stroked his claws over her head fur, marveling at its softness. Her body had many such features, all delicacy and adornment. She made a quiet sound and wound a limb across his lower body.
The way she nested had seemed strange to him at
first. Barathi partners preferred more personal space, but now he couldn’t imagine living that way. Even less could he envision how he would survive without her. As a drone.
The surgery that would render him infertile was meant as a kindness, so he would no longer be plagued with reproductive urges that must be suppressed as he went about chores that kept the city clean. There were those who had chosen that path, but to have his identity stripped away forcibly, as a result of failure…that terrified him.
Not least because it would mean parting from Beryl forever. He had brought her here, away from her home, away from everything she knew.
Somehow, she sensed that he was troubled, and she stirred, one eye opening to gaze up at him. “Can’t sleep?”
What will become of you, Terrible One?
In his hearts, he knew how it would go if they failed. She would compete in the next Choosing and should have no difficulty attracting a new Chosen. Then, if he were lucky, he might catch a glimpse of her as he went about his maintenance tasks. The pain of that prospect jolted through him, so sharp that she noticed.
No longer seeming groggy, she sat up in the nest sling, making it sway. “Zylar? You’re worrying me.”
He could have prevaricated, but those efforts always failed with her. “I fear that I will…perform poorly against Ryzven. He has resources and connections—”
“That’s enough, I understand.” She set a grabber on his neck, a vulnerable point.
If another Barathi put their claws there, it would be an act of aggression, threatening, even, but with Beryl, it became pure softness, two vulnerable points sparking pleasure. He churred, an encouragement, because he was learning to take solace in her strange gestures.
She smoothed his skin, just as he did when he trailed his claws through her head fur. Small tingles of sensation prickled through him, a quiet pleasure that didn’t rouse his mating instincts.
“You must be disappointed,” he said then.
“In you? Not even slightly. Ryzven is an obstacle, that’s for sure. But I’ve been thinking about this, and if we can’t talk Kurr out of getting revenge, maybe we can help them. I mean, we don’t have the same motivation, but it would definitely be in our best interests if something went wrong permanently in that flavork’s life.”
Zylar started, then he realized the translator must have substituted the local idiom for whatever pejorative word Beryl had used. Still, it amused him to hear her cursing Ryzven so fluently.
“You’re correct. It troubles me not to confront him directly, but if I must choose between honor and you, then I pick you, Terrible One. For you, I would break every rule and forswear every promise.”
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be that dire,” Beryl said, but she was smiling. “As long as I’m not the one you break promises to. Anyway, consider this: If your enemy cheats, why do you have to choose the high road? People should get what they deserve.”
That statement shocked all the fear out of him. Not because he disagreed with her, but it was simply so obvious he should have seen it for himself.
Oblivious to his sudden epiphany, she went on, “He’s the one who came at you for no reason, who tried to take me, even though I’ve made my preference known more than once. Don’t waste any more energy on Ryzven and go to sleep.”
She snuggled against his side and took her own advice. Snaps roused long enough to say, “I hate that guy,” and then the fur-person went back to sleep as well.
Eventually Zylar dozed.
He woke alone.
It wasn’t the first time, but it alarmed him, as he had grown accustomed to finding Beryl beside him. As he climbed out of the nest sling, he asked, “Where are Beryl and Snaps?”
“They departed nineteen spans prior and did not inform me of their destination.” From Helix’s tone, he found such blatant disrespect offensive.
“They’re not used to you yet. I don’t think they have smart habitats on Aerth.”
“Primitive,” said Helix.
They probably went to the garden, and they’ll be back soon.
Still, his whole body felt twitchy as he completed routine daily hygiene and consumed his necessary nourishment. The idea that Ryzven might have simply taken Beryl—it wasn’t impossible. If he couldn’t acquire her through honest means, it wasn’t beyond him to steal.
Zylar understood that in his bones.
He was about to rush out and start a frantic search when Snaps bounded into their quarters. Quivering, he knelt and put a claw gently on the fur-person’s head.
“I’m very glad to see you,” he said.
“Now that is a proper welcome for a good boy,” said Snaps.
Beryl paused just inside the door. “Worrying again? I took him out for a run in the garden. I feel bad about leaving him alone at home all the time.”
“He is not alone,” Helix said.
“Without an organic companion?” Beryl suggested.
If Zylar knew Helix, he would be sensitive for a while, and this conflict wouldn’t help. It was understandable; the AI’s memories had been stripped, leaving him with a sense of incompletion. Over time, it would fade, but they should prepare for him to be disagreeable.
Fortunately, Snaps cut in before the argument could escalate. “I don’t need a companion. Can I come with you today, please, can I? I’ll be such a good boy. I will sit with the watchers and I will not move. I will not bark or chase, no matter how many interesting things I see. Please, can I come with you?” Snaps ended his plea with an all-over wiggle and stared up at Zylar with dark and liquid eyes.
He felt inclined to grant this wish, and he could see Beryl did too. Still kneeling, he tilted Snap’s face up and tried to be stern. “You must keep your vow, Snaps. This is a very important occasion. I cannot stress that enough.”
“A good boy keeps his promises,” said Snaps.
“Then I will be here. Alone. In an untended domicile.” Helix sounded sullen.
The AI wasn’t used to sharing Zylar with others; they had lived together alone for a long time. “Please watch over the place for me,” he said. “It is possible that Ryzven may attempt some devious scheme. Your vigilance is vital.”
“Understood. I will notify the authorities if he trespasses,” Helix said.
There wasn’t much time before they had to report for the Choosing, so he rushed Beryl and Snaps through their routine and hastened them out. She held Snaps’s lead, walking quietly with a thoughtful air.
“That was kind of you,” she said finally.
“What?”
“Making Helix feel useful. I wouldn’t have thought of it. He…doesn’t feel real to me.”
That surprised him enough to stop moving. “He is a person, Terrible One. My friend, as well. I assigned that task to him because it was a necessary precaution, and it reassured him that he still has a place in my life, though changes are coming.”
“Sorry. On my world, when I left, they were working with AI, but my people hadn’t acknowledged them as sentient, self-willed beings. I’ll update my attitudes, and next time we leave, I’ll inform Helix of our plans.”
“You should apologize to him as well,” Zylar suggested. “He tends to hold a grudge.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
They hurried onward to the arena, and Zylar could tell that Beryl was worried about leaving Snaps alone with the spectators. Yet as the fur-person had promised, he took his seat and didn’t pester anyone nearby. Finally, Beryl sighed and gave him one final pat.
“No barking. No chasing.”
“I can cheer for you?” Snaps asked.
“Yes, that’s fine.” Beryl turned to Zylar and offered her grabber. “Shall we take our places?”
He wrapped his claw carefully around her tender flesh and pulled her toward the center, where Kurr and Catyr were already waiting. There were two events today, short ones, and then the finale tomorrow.
We can finish this. We must.
Any other outcome was unthinkable.
In the last test, she and Zylar had to tag-team the equivalent of an alien obstacle course, passing that damn ring between them that she’d snatched in the first trial. If it touched the ground, they were automatically eliminated. And there was all kinds of crap to leap, dodge, roll under and crawl through: Machines with moving parts, fire, strong winds.
Then they had to fight against another pair of intended and Chosen while tied together back to front. Something about proving their unity and defending each other—she’d lost the thread when the hissing Barathi tried to disembowel her. Thankfully, Zylar had whirled around just in time.
They placed in the middle of the pack in both matches, not exceptional but good enough to be safe. She hoped that her adequate performance—without Kurr—would make it clear to Ryzven that the Greenspirit was the truly gifted one in their former partnership, if only so Kurr could push forward with their revenge plan.
Their performance with Catyr was certainly reinforcing that impression. The announcer said as much, as Beryl waited for her heart to stop racing.
“It seems the new competitors to watch are Kurr and Catyr, an unexpected alliance that bears delicious fruit!”
Probably that wasn’t exactly what he was saying, just the translator making it sound weird. The crowd cheered for the new power couple anyway, and Beryl peered across the arena, relieved to find Snaps exactly where she’d left him. His tail was wagging, and he looked extremely interested in all the proceedings, but at least he wasn’t running amok on the field like she’d seen dogs do in old soccer videos.
She swung her gaze back to Kurr, who had a remote and regal air now. Loss had forged them into a pale and exquisite weapon, a dagger crafted from purest jade. Even the graceful flutter of their fronds looked vaguely dangerous. Possibly Beryl’s inside knowledge of their plan colored that assessment.
She was aware of Ryzven glaring from the other side, but she didn’t glance in his direction. When that asshole stormed into their home and declared war openly, it meant she was free of the need to be polite, even though he was one of Zylar’s siblings. From what she’d gathered, that relationship wasn’t the same as it had been at home anyway. Birth groups might have hundreds of potential nest-mates, and not all of them survived, and they certainly weren’t all raised together.