Escaping Exodus

by Nicky Drayden

  “Wait, no, I’m listening!” I plead. “Don’t give up on me! This is too important.”

  “I’m not giving up on you,” he says. “You just need a different approach.” He takes my hand, and then we’re off.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “To the Muirabuko Emporium.”

  “The store? We don’t have time to shop.” I keep grumbling, but he keeps dragging me, and soon we’re there. He orders all the customers out, wielding his new title like he’s borne it his whole life. The place clears.

  “How can I help you, Matris?” the shop owner asks with curiosity and perhaps a little nervousness.

  But Doka is already in a zone, grabbing marbles and other small toys from the shelves, and running back to us, depositing them at our feet before running out to get more. And more. Finally, he comes back and starts assembling little figurines bound together with puppet gel. He’d looked at me with a trace of hurt in his eyes when he opened the first pack of gel, but whatever crushed feelings he was having, they were fleeting, and now his eccentricity is back. Thirty spaceship replicas sit before me, each made from an assortment of toys.

  “So you know about Earth?” he asks me as he rolls a big blue-and-green ball behind the ships.

  “Of course!” I say confidently. “What kind of question is that?”

  “Sorry,” he says. “Just making sure. So you know how there were lots of different countries, lots of different cultures and races?”

  “Yes . . .” I say, less sure now. I’d fumbled my way through so many of my pai’s lessons, grasping what I could about the history of our ships and the beasts we’ve called home. But his lessons on Earth were so odd, they were mostly incomprehensible. All those people, clinging to a dead rock, slinging themselves around and around a star, had seemed far-fetched at best, but I need it to make sense now. “I mean, I guess there would be, but I hadn’t really given it much thought. I just assumed they all looked like us.”

  “Well, more or less. But there were differences. When the Great Cruelty came, thirty generational ships were commissioned to save what they could of humanity. Countries pooled their resources and knowledge to do the impossible. The Great Cruelty spread quickly through the Western Hemisphere. Their ships were constructed, some generational, some utilizing stasis, but some of the engineers had contracted the Cruelty, causing them to sabotage their programs. Ships exploded in their space docks before they could ever launch.” Doka stomps hard on ten of the thirty ships, squishing them to pieces. Gel flies everywhere. The store’s matron flinches at the mess but dares not say anything.

  Then Doka animates the puppet gel of the remaining twenty, and they start undulating their way across the floor. “The others launched successfully, with a goal of finding another planet in a nearby star system. It was a three-hundred-year journey.”

  And then he’s quiet for a long while. Nearly a minute drags on, and I just sit there, watching the ships do their little undulations together, working their way by inches. Less than inches. “Um, is that it?” I ask.

  “No, just wanted to give you an idea of the timescale we’re working with. It was slow, Seske. Really slow. Cultures were different when they started, and they got even more different with the isolation between ships. There was some trade at first, but the ships became more self-sufficient and more insular. We shut off from one another. And when the planet turned out to be a bust, several of the generational ships went on to a second-choice planet, only fifty years away now with advancements in travel speeds.” Doka slaps six of the twenty ships, and they take off fast in a different direction. Fourteen are left. “The stasis pods were starting to give out on these other ships. Lives were being lost. They wouldn’t make it another fifty years and needed another solution. They’d documented a herd of spacefaring beasts on their way, only a few years’ travel back the way they’d come.” Doka’s eyes light up. He goes over to the bucket of marbles and dumps them all out. They go rolling everywhere. “Good news, they figured out a way to hitch the ships to the beasts, tapping into their life force to sustain their ships’ power systems. Bad news, they killed a lot of beasts in the process of figuring out how to do it most effectively.” Doka kicks the marbles hard, until the herd is severely thinned.

  “Excuse me!” the shop owner says, finally irritated enough to speak out about the mess Doka has made of the place.

  “You’re excused,” he says to her, a severe look on his face that instantly puts the shop owner in her place. All my life, I’ve known only one person who wielded such power with a single glare. Matris.

  “Soon,” Doka continues seamlessly, “someone figured out it was better to just modify the beast directly, and they figured out a way for us to live inside them. People were taken out of stasis. Communities established. Sanctions on family size were temporarily lifted. Finally, we had something we could call a real life. But the beasts didn’t last forever. At first each ship needed a new beast every two years.” He kicks more marbles. “Then every five years.” Kicks more marbles. “Then every ten or so. We’ve gotten better over time. But we are still killing them faster than they can reproduce. It takes nearly a decade for a baby to gestate. Someone did the math and figured out that the beasts would be extinct in five hundred years. Cooperation turned to competition almost overnight. That was about six hundred fifty years ago.”

  “So their estimates were off?” I ask.

  “Their estimates were for fourteen ships. There are just seven now.”

  I nod. Matris had destroyed a whole ship at her own will, and obviously there had been more, and this was the beast they’d fought over? The competition for resources, for life, had been a deadly one, and apparently, it still is.

  “So you can see, there’s a lot of animosity and distrust you’re dealing with. It’s not going to be an easy conversation to have.”

  “How many beasts are left?” I ask.

  “One hundred twelve adults, sixteen juveniles, and a young one, still suckling at its mother’s side.” His eyes tear up a bit, then move to my stomach. “The stakes are high, Seske. I think we work well together.”

  “I do, too—”

  “I think we can make real change,” he continues, as if he hadn’t heard me, “but we also need to protect our own line. We need to make an heir, one way or another. One we can teach our values to and move past this way of life. We can’t risk the Matriarchy falling into the hands of someone who will drive us into dust.” His hand is on my stomach now, right where my womb is. I feel my insides clench up.

  “The last thing this city needs is another life to leech resources,” I say. “And the last thing I want is some alien thing inside me, doing the same.”

  “But, Seske . . .” He grabs, pulls me in tight. “Our marriage. Our honor.”

  “Our marriage and honor are fine just where they are,” I say, tugging away. “We work well together. Let’s not complicate things emotionally, physically. Thank you for the lesson.”

  “It’s just that my mothers are pressuring us to consu—”

  “I swear to every single heart-father of memory’s past, if you say the word consummate I’m going to have you strung up by your thumbs.”

  Doka laughs a nervous laugh, then swallows it back when he sees I’m serious. “Sorry, Seske,” he says. “I won’t bring it up again.”

  One of the remaining ships undulates its way up to my foot. I stoop down to pick it up and squint at the front shield, like I can see the little people inside. “This was good. Now I need you to tell me exactly who it is we’re dealing with.”

  I watch, rapt, as a hologram of the planet spins above us in the doldrums—the only open space on this beast large enough to accommodate tens of thousands. I’d had the technicians make the hologram as big as possible, big enough that a very tall person could reach up and touch the very tips of its highest mountaintops. The blues of the ocean are amazing. Such rich green land. In the history books, it’s never been so grand.

 
“Earth,” I say to the crowd spread out before me, Contour class to my left, beastworkers to my right. “We are one people from many nations. We have many pasts. But we have one future.”

  The image of Earth fades and is replaced by a slightly smaller planet. The blues are deeper, the greens lusher. I’d taken some liberties with the surface details, tweaking it so that it looked like a complete paradise. Our sensors weren’t that precise at a distance so far, but they’d been able to determine the composition of the atmosphere and extrapolate from there based on some astrosciences I didn’t dare ask the technicians to explain.

  “This is the planet I would like you to settle with me, to break this cycle of killing we pretend to ignore. Our technicians are still doing the research, of course, but preliminary results look promising. The air is breathable. The temperatures are stable. There’s enough room for each of the other ships to settle, enough room and resources for us all, but before I speak with those ships, I wanted to speak with you. I want you in on this with me. I want your trust. Our people can thrive on this planet, not just subsist. We can build a future for many generations to come, not doomed by some ticking clock. I can lead you there, and we can prosper.

  “Who will come with me?”

  I stare at the group. They stare at the planet. No one moves. No one says a thing.

  “Who will be the first?” I shout. “Who will help me lead the way?”

  Finally, eyes fall upon me. Full of distrust. Whether it’s a distrust of my line or me, I guess it doesn’t matter, but if no one steps up, we’re all dead.

  “I’ll come,” says a voice closing in on me. Sisterkin. “We can’t keep looking to our past to solve our problems. We have to be forward-thinking.”

  “I’ll come too.” It’s Chief Auditor Abacca. Apparently the dissolution of their adoption has not dissolved the loyalty between them.

  But it makes a difference. Slowly, others step forward, and momentum gains until it looks like we have a slight majority.

  “One people, one future,” Sisterkin calls out, and suddenly they’re all chanting. My nerves are steeled.

  “One people, one future,” I say back to them. The crowd erupts into applause. I let loose a sigh, lock eyes with Sisterkin. I don’t know what she’s up to, but for now, I’m grateful this idea didn’t die where it stood.

  And she’s still at my side when the calls go through. She arranges videoconferences with the leaders of the other six ships. One by one, their faces pop up on the screen, and I get to see what five hundred years of social isolation really looks like.

  I can’t stop staring at the men. Four of them. I can’t imagine how their people could find the trust to allow a male to lead an entire civilization, but perhaps they’ve come around to realizing the value of equality faster than we have. One is a woman, and the other is concealed so heavily in furs that I can’t tell either way.

  “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me,” I say. My voice barely trembles. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. “I am Seske Kaleigh, true daughter of mothers, matriarch of this ship?” I hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, but here we are.

  “You?” says one of the men, so pale-faced, he’s nearly white. It’s as if I’m staring into the face of a spirit. A shudder runs through me. “Little darkling child, we’re expected to believe you are the leader of your people?”

  Two of the other feeds immediately cut out.

  “I assure you, I am completely fit to lead my people.” I take a deep breath. At least some of them are still listening. There’s a chance they might help to sway the others later. “We are a people of many nations, we have many pasts, but together, we can have one future. There’s not enough out here for us. We can see the end approaching, and yet we continue to speed toward it. We need to talk of another way.”

  “Of conservation?” the woman asks. “We would be interested in a trade of technologies.” I notice how gaunt she is, how much desperation there is in her eyes.

  “Conservation is good, but I think we’re beyond that now. I think we are more desperate than that. I think we need to consider taking a new stand: setting up a new life on a new planet.” I nod for the tactician to send them specs of the planet. Their eyes all fall slightly away from camera. Two more feeds cut out. Only the woman and the pale, pale man remain. I try not to let nerves overcome me. I’ll win over two now, worry about the others later. Later.

  “There is enough land for the three of us, and much more, should the others decide to join us.”

  “Darkling child,” the pale man says.

  “Seske. It’s Seske Kaleigh, true daughter of mothers. You can call me Matris, if you’d prefer.”

  “I will do no such thing! Have you no men to lead you?”

  “Have you no women to lead you?” I mouth back.

  Doka elbows me in the ribs. “Diplomacy,” he mutters under his breath.

  I cringe, trying to remember what’s at stake, then put on my best serious face.

  “We are willing to talk trade, but not if he is a part of it,” the woman says, the ire in her voice churning the pit of my stomach.

  “Still hard feelings, Klang? It’s been nearly fifty years since our trade agreement.”

  “We have parents alive who still weep. We will not forget,” the woman says, indignant.

  “We will hear your plan, darkling child. We are also willing to trade,” says the pale man. “The Klang have nothing of value. Trust me on that one.” He gives me an awful grin.

  “Do business with the Serrata and you will regret it for generations,” the woman says.

  It is clear this meeting cannot go on with the both of them. I must choose. They stare. I can’t wait too long, or I’ll lose them both. The woman seems more desperate, like she’ll end up taking more than giving. The man, there’s some opulence there. His clothes are nicer. Face full, like he’s eating well. “You, Commander Chubahl. What do you have to offer?” I ask.

  He holds a fist up, then releases his grip. Several coins fall to the table in front of him, slowly, almost like they’re sinking to the bottom of a bog. They land. “Titanium,” he says. “Lots of it.”

  Titanium. Other than the copper distilled from the beast’s blood, metal is so rare. I look to Doka. He nods. It’s not what I wanted, but a trade would help with everything. We could repair our ship or construct exploratory vessels.

  “We will do business with you, Commander Chubahl,” I say.

  The woman scowls at me. “May you live to regret this decision,” she says, then her feed flicks out.

  “I invite you aboard our ship,” I say to Commander Chubahl, “so that we may discuss our proposition in person.”

  When he sees the big hologram, that’ll really sell the idea. I’ll give him first pick of territories. Anything to get him to agree.

  “We will have you and your darkling crew aboard our beast,” he counters.

  “And what will you require of us? We have amazing spices and tea, some technology, or, if you’re interested, we also have—”

  “Girls,” he says flatly. “We want a hundred of your girls.”

  “You can’t actually be considering dealing with them,” Sisterkin says as I pore over the information on the ledger before me. There’s not much of it. The Serrata have mostly kept to themselves outside of a few skirmishes. I do find the record of the so-called trade agreement the Klang commander had referred to. Fifty-seven girls had been stolen from their ship. She’d petitioned our Matris at the time, my grandmatris, for help, for retaliation, but we’d declined involvement. They weren’t our children. They weren’t our problem.

  “Why do they have so much metal?”

  “Their ship. They’ve scrapped their entire ship,” my tactician says. “We’ve taken everything we could from ours but haven’t completely dismantled it. We need the ship. For exodus.”

  We all look at one another. “How long have they been living in that beast?”

  Sisterkin looks through
the records. “At least a hundred and ninety years. Records are spotty before that. There were so many beasts then, nobody really bothered to keep track of such things.”

  “Then they’ve found a way to reach equilibrium with the ship,” I say, overwhelmed by the possibility. “They coexist peacefully, taking only what they need from the beast and giving back whatever they can.”

  “Stealing fifty-seven girls isn’t peaceful, Seske,” Doka says. “We can’t risk it. We just need to go the course without them.”

  I shake my head. “If we can get that information from them, about how they’ve reached symbiosis, we can pass it on to the others. Even if they don’t agree to come with us to the planet, it’ll give the rest of the beasts out there a fighting chance.”

  “Why should we care about them? They’re just beasts,” says Sisterkin.

  “Each of those adults has been alive longer than our people have been spacefaring. We’ve destroyed them. We’re not taking another single life!”

  “And our daughters are collateral?”

  I shake my head. “We don’t have to give up our daughters. We’ve still got the grisette embryos, right? Thousands of them.” I’m shocked at the words that come out of my mouth. But how do you weigh the lives of a hundred unborn souls against the survival of our people? “We’ll send the embryos over with a few incubators. They’ve got to consider that a fair trade. And while we’re over there, getting the titanium, we’ll also pry from them how they keep their beast running. Did you notice how those coins dropped? They’ve got less gravity for sure. Maybe a third of what we’ve got. Maybe that has something to do with it.”

  “Seske!” Sisterkin says. “Please, let’s take time and talk with Chief Abacca about strategies—”