by Ann Aguirre
“I could stay long enough for the Council to make a decision. If they deny your bond, we could all leave together,” Helix suggested.
That didn’t sound like a bad idea to Beryl, but it seemed like Zylar disagreed. “That could take days, as all rulings have been delayed due to Ryzven’s death. If you don’t take the ship now, the Council will confiscate it if we’re disqualified. Beryl and I can book passage and meet you off-world, should it come to that.”
Shit. Come to think of it, Zylar had mentioned that the Council would take all of his stuff. Still, even if it was for the AI’s protection, this exile seemed a bit cruel. They’ve been friends for so long. I don’t think Helix wants to be alone.
“Then I will go. I’ll wait for you on Gravas Station. Will you…send word?”
“Yes,” Zylar said. “Once we know the verdict, we’ll inform you.”
“We won’t keep you waiting forever,” Beryl added.
“This is…unexpectedly difficult. I was created to serve you. But now, you expect me to go and exist for myself. I am full of troublesome emotions,” Helix said.
And Beryl could tell that was true. There was a strain in the AI’s words that she’d never noticed before. “He really can’t stay?” she whispered to Zylar.
“It’s not safe for him here. I don’t know if it will be anywhere, but at least on Gravas Station, there’s less central oversight.”
“It is chaos there. I suppose it will be an interesting experiment. Though I have no right to make this request, I still ask you to look after Zylar, Beryl Bowman.”
“I will,” she promised.
“That’s it, then. I’m transferring my complete code to the ship now.”
Zylar started to say, “You may need a—”
“A physical avatar. Yes. I’ve had a mech delivered to the vessel, just in case. It will be fascinating to interact with the world in that way. Farewell, both of you.”
And just like that, the room went still. Strange to say, but she sensed Helix’s absence, as if he had imbued the space with some particular energy, and now, it was gone. Zylar shuddered against her, revealing how difficult this parting was for him, though he had been stoic about it.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I will be.” But his mood was somber now, and the plates slid forward, quietly attesting to the fact that it wasn’t the time to get sexy.
For the next couple of days…cycles? Whatever—Beryl tried to divert Zylar from Helix’s absence and keep his mind off the decision they were waiting for. They ate, talked, cuddled, and played with Snaps in the garden, but the shadow never left Zylar entirely. Most likely, it wouldn’t until they heard from the Council.
At last, the summons came, and Beryl put on her best makeshift dress, attached Snap’s leash, and admonished him, “Be on your best behavior. We’re on probation because of you, so don’t do anything that might aggravate the elders.”
“I’ll be good,” Snaps said. “A very good boy. The best boy!”
“Promises, promises.”
“Are you ready?” Zylar was already by the door, visibly eager to have the matter settled once and for all.
Barath or Gravas Station, that’s all this meeting determines.
Still, every nerve crackled with tension as she accompanied Zylar to the great hall where she’d first met the Matriarch, what seemed so long ago now. The rest of the hopeful aspirants were already assembled, as no pairings had been approved as yet. Once everyone settled into respectful silence, the Matriarch stepped forward, evidently the spokesperson for the Council on such occasions.
“We will start by thanking you for your patience. Certain unavoidable events required our attention and deep deliberation, but we are ready to adjudicate on all counts. First, we will address the special petition set forth by Miralai, formerly of Kith B’alak. Normally, such haste might be considered…unseemly, but in the interest of ensuring the safety and well-being of her clutch, we approve the request to join with Catyr, Chosen of Kurr, of Kith Ka’mat. Peace and prosperity to you all in your new union.”
From there, the Matriarch ran down the list, proclaiming approvals, and it seemed like she was working based on ranking scores. Which didn’t bode well since Beryl kept waiting and waiting to hear their names. Finally, she whispered, “Is there a limit to how many pairings will be approved?”
“Yes.”
That affirmation felt like a knife twisting in her side. She didn’t want Zylar to lose everything because of Snaps. At least the dog was behaving, just as he’d promised. But the prospect of starting over with no jobs lined up and nowhere to stay intimidated Beryl, and Zylar seemed troubled as well. Gravas Station must be a rough place if it made him nervous.
As the ceremony felt like it was winding down, the Matriarch finally said, “And now we come to the matter of Zylar of Kith B’alak and Beryl Bowman of Aerth. Their final match resulted in victory, but there was interference. And we argued amongst ourselves as to what the most equitable ruling would be.”
Don’t keep us in suspense, she begged silently.
“After lengthy deliberation, we determined that the level of interference was not worthy of disqualification, but there must be a penalty, so we have deducted points from their overall standing. The new number…” Here, the Matriarch paused for dramatic effect, and Beryl almost screamed in sheer frustration.
Zylar took her hand, carefully wrapping his claws around her, telling her without words that they would be together regardless.
The Matriarch added, “…is barely high enough for them to be the last pair we approve for this season.”
Holy shit. We did it. We can stay.
“Naturally, as the final, lowest-ranking pair, their caste must be adjusted accordingly. The Council will contact you regarding asset reallocation when they provide information on your new territory.”
Beryl didn’t entirely understand that, but the meeting was adjourned, and people were starting to leave. In grim silence, Zylar tugged her toward the exit and she followed, just as Snaps did on the leash. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
Once they cleared the crowd, she pulled back, forcing him to stop. “What’s wrong?”
“We prevailed…but barely. They’re confiscating most of what I own, and they’ll reassign our housing to the least desirable location, as a result of our low-ranking.”
“Can you clarify? Remember, I’m still learning here.”
“If I have guessed correctly, that means they’re sending us to the Barrens.”
[ 24 ]
Zylar hardly knew what emotion he ought to be experiencing. Receiving approval and then being reduced in caste was like a pat and a punch in the same motion. Though he’d never been as powerful as Ryzven, thanks to his progenitors, he had enjoyed a certain level of comfort and prestige.
Beryl regarded him with trepidation as he stalked out of the hall, opting not to continue the conversation amid so many onlookers. Helix was long gone, thankfully, but the Council would have questions about the ship, and he had no answers.
She read his mood accurately and didn’t question him until they got back to his quarters. Incorrect designation, he could imagine Helix saying. Back to his temporary housing that they would be permitted to occupy until the relocation.
Snaps trotted over to the proper square and lifted a leg, unfazed by Zylar’s bleak mood. Afterward he said, “I was a good boy, right? Do I get snacks?”
In answer, Beryl went over to the manufacturer and requested a small reward and fed it to the fur-person. Then she faced Zylar and folded her upper limbs. “Do you plan to explain what’s so bad about the Barrens?”
With effort, he released his anger. This was better than starting with nothing on Gravas Station. He reached out, waiting for her to entrust him with her soft grabber, then he headed for their nest, the most comfortable place for a long conversation. Beryl grabbed her bedding on the way and used it as padding between her fragile form and his chitin.
�
�I believe I told you that Barath has such strict regulations because in the past, we nearly destroyed our planet due to overpopulation.” He waited for her noise of assent before continuing. “What I didn’t tell you is that we’ve only succeeded in restoring portions of it. Damage done over centuries cannot be healed quickly.”
“Right, so the Barrens are…” She paused, evidently waiting for him to fill in the rest.
“A quasi-habitable zone adjacent to the true wasteland, too toxic even now for us to thrive there, but other creatures have adapted, and they raid our settlements periodically. The Barrens are dangerous.” That was an understatement.
Living there, the title of nest-guardian would not be ceremonial. It would require skill and vigilance to survive.
“So basically, we’re being sent to guard the border,” she said.
“Concise but accurate.”
“Is that why you’re so upset? Because it’s dangerous?”
Zylar considered. “That’s part of it, but it’s impossible to be sanguine about this reduction in circumstances. I used to be a person of status, and now—”
“You’re the person I love beyond all reason. I never cared about your status, and I still don’t. I mean, if I were interested in that, wouldn’t I have been all over Ryzven?”
“True.”
“We can rebuild, right? And they’re providing a stipend for our border-guarding work, along with a place to live.”
Zylar adored her for focusing on the bright side of this banishment. “Indeed. There will be opportunities for advancement, and superior performance will be rewarded with caste adjustments. If we do well, we could return to Srila someday.”
“I’m looking on this as the start of another adventure. I get to live in the Barrens, fighting monsters with my true love, and one day, they’ll reward us with a family, offspring that I don’t even have to gestate.”
“This is why I love you,” he said, giving her words back to her, the finest gift he could imagine. “When I see only darkness, you shine a light. I will forever be grateful to Helix, wherever he may go.”
“We have to send him a message,” she said then.
“I will, before we depart.”
“You were right about the ship. It’s a good thing he got out when he did.”
“There will be an inquiry,” Zylar noted.
He hadn’t made up his mind how to handle the investigations, but he planned to deny all knowledge and posit that it must have been stolen, and when the Council ordered him to decommission Helix in light of his reduced circumstances, he’d tell them he had already done so. Not ideal, but it was the best he could do. Hopefully Helix had camouflaged his movements as he exited the dedicated Barathi neural network.
Beryl shifted, so she could look at him, and he touched her head fur in reassurance. “But…will they be able to track our communications when we send word to Helix?”
“An excellent question. I’ll bounce the message before allowing it to reach the ship.”
“How long will it take for us to be relocated?” she asked.
Zylar didn’t have an answer for that query, but it took only a few sleep cycles before the message arrived, providing information on their reassignment. He suspected the Council was eager to get rid of him, the last evidence of Ryzven’s misdeeds. Once he left the city, the rest of Kith B’alak could pretend this stain didn’t exist, while he and Beryl would either perish in the Barrens or redeem themselves with outstanding service.
It will be the latter. Some of her optimism had pervaded him at last, for he could envision no other outcome.
Snaps whined so much when the workers came to remove most of Zylar’s possessions that they took the fur-person to the garden to collect his offspring. With Kurr’s help, Beryl carefully transplanted the tiny green dirt dogs into a sturdy container that would survive the journey.
“I cannot believe this is farewell,” Kurr said in a gentle tone, as they supervised the transition.
Beryl churred, human-style. “You’re welcome to visit, though I’m not sure if you’ll want to.”
“I would enjoy seeing the fearsome beauty of a world struggling to recover from toxicity. Perhaps there is something I could do for my home planet…” Kurr fluttered their fronds and then wrapped them around Beryl and Zylar in a rough approximation of the hug that Beryl had taught everyone she came across.
Everyone she liked anyway.
“I must go, Catyr and Miralai are waiting for me. The clutch is very close to their time. They’re moving a great deal, and I want to be there from their first moments. I understand such dedication is critical in forming early bonds.”
“It is,” Zylar agreed. “Thank you. For everything you did for my Terrible One.”
“Kindness is its own reward. Cruelty exacts its own price. Peace and prosperity, my beloved friends.”
Snaps bounded over to receive a stroke of friendly fronds in parting, then he went back to circling the tiny green dirt dogs, obviously concerned about their confinement. “Are they safe? That looks very small.”
“We’ll create a bigger garden when we get to our new home,” Beryl said, then she glanced at Zylar as if she wasn’t sure that would be possible.
In all candor, neither was he. Data was scarce about the Barrens, and he had no specific information regarding their new residence. We’ll work it out when we get there, like all the other obstacles.
But her promise apparently sufficed for Snaps. He settled as Zylar lifted the container, waiting for Beryl to precede him. She knew the way by heart now, flawlessly navigating to the platform, and she even chose the correct pod, though she couldn’t read the signs. She must have memorized the symbols, such a clever soul, his wondrous Terrible One. There were others traveling with them, but he ignored their interest. Soon, they would leave this city behind, and he didn’t entirely loathe that prospect.
“Once we’re settled in our new home, we’ll start the reading lessons I promised.”
She flashed her teeth. “You remembered.”
“It’s impossible for me to forget anything related to you, Beryl Bowman.”
“About that…”
“Yes, beloved?”
“Oh, I like that one. Your endearments are improving.” She tilted her head, eyes bright as she regarded him with a look he was coming to recognize as playful. “Would it be possible for me to known as Beryl of Kith B’alak from now on? You seem to use your kith affiliation instead of a second name, and where I’m from, partners can choose to take the same name to symbolize their union.”
He churred, unable to restrain his startled pleasure. “You’re already kith, but it honors me more than I can say that you wish to share a name with me.”
If they hadn’t been in a public transport, he would have shown her precisely the size of his great joy. As it was, he fought the flare of his neck ruff, for it was becoming difficult for him to separate emotional warmth from sexual desire. Those sensations had blended until simply breathing in the scent of her skin could send him into a state of trembling arousal.
“We’re leaving tomorrow?” she asked, as they stepped off the pod.
“So we are. Any regrets, Beryl of Kith B’alak?” He added the latter intentionally, enjoying the flash of her eyes and the sweet twist of her lips.
Lips. Tongue. Alien words for such sweetness. That fast, his mind swirled with delicious, deviant possibilities.
“I do wish that Helix was still with us. It feels like he got punished, even though I forgave him.”
“He is a person now,” Zylar said simply. “More than code dedicated to assisting me, and he deserves to find his own path. I consider freedom to be a reward more than penance.”
“That helps. Then no, no regrets. I’m willing to follow you anywhere.”
The next day, Beryl proved her words when she boarded the official Kith B’alak transport vessel. Workers had taken nearly everything, leaving them the bare minimum to set up a household in the Barrens. Fear tapp
ed at the edges of her mind, but she didn’t let it take hold.
This is an adventure, dammit.
Snaps, at least, took everything in stride, though he was vigilant as hell about his “offspring.” Hopefully they could find somewhere to plant them, as she had no clue how big these green boys might get.
The flight crew—or whatever they were called on Barath—were incredibly somber, as if they were on a funeral barge. She took her behavior cues from them, and Zylar didn’t say much either, so she slept most of the way. It wasn’t that much different from a flight from the East Coast to California, although she had way more leg room, and they didn’t yell at her to buckle in when she got up to stretch her legs.
“Nervous?” Zylar asked.
“Not really. Just…anxious to get there and start our life, you know?”
“Yes, I feel the same. We should be arriving soon.”
As if in response to his words, the shuttle descended with a graceful swoop, and soon they were on the ground. Beryl took a deep breath and followed the crew off the transport. Their new home was…rugged.
That was the first word that came to mind. Like the Grand Canyon, only more so, great broken rocks, red as blood, and dark gray sand, alien in its beauty. Their new home had been cut from the rocks themselves, like the ancient city on an island whose name Beryl had read once and forgotten.
It was obvious they weren’t alone here, and she hoped their neighbors would be welcoming, because other than the rock settlement, there was nothing but devastation for miles around. And in the distance, when she shaded her eyes, she thought she saw the border he mentioned, a virulent ochre that permeated earth and sky in a toxic cloud that no wind could dispel.
Here, there be dragons. Or something.
The workers were already unloading their belongings, few as they were. In a lucky break for Beryl, they also ported them up the steep rock steps leading to their new domicile. Snaps fretted the whole time, until the container housing his “offspring” was deposited carefully inside.