I may not have Seske at my side, but maybe that’s for the best. She’d be a bigger distraction. I’m having a hard enough time not thinking about her. About us. Kallum’s beyond mad. I’ve never seen him like this. Won’t even talk to me. But if I’m successful at tearing a hole in the legitimacy of the Senate and all their years spent complicit in this cover-up, maybe I can start to tear into other institutions as well. We’ll have to rethink everything, including how we love.
I’m ready, standing out here, right next to the entrance of the Senate chamber, but my star witness has yet to show. I’m not nervous. Not yet. Madam Wade is only a few minutes late. I want to go over her testimony one more time before she takes the stand. Another ten minutes pass, though, and I decide to go to her house and fetch her myself.
I knock at the door. Her house is quiet. Just she and her will-wife are all that remain of her family. Their pet wash hoglet greets me at the door, snout trembling in anticipation of a treat. Madam Wade’s wife gently knocks the hoglet away from the door with her foot.
“Oh, Matris!” she says with a hefty round of flourishes, though she doesn’t open her body fully. There is some anger hidden in there, frustration. Fear. We both know that Madam Wade is risking everything to testify about a corrupt practice. “What a favor you bestow upon us in visiting our home.” From her tone, it’s clear she doesn’t think this is a favor at all.
I return a half bow. “I am more grateful for the favor Madam Wade is doing for me. I know this is a hard time for you both.”
“She is willing to go through with it. I will support her.” Yet there is venom behind those words for sure.
“Can you tell her to hurry? We’re due to meet with the Senate in less than an hour.”
“Oh, I thought she would have been there by now. She got called to an emergency Knowing Walk this morning. It shouldn’t have lasted long.”
“What? She promised to stop practicing,” I say, my worry for all the little boys like Kenzah starting all over again.
“She has. She’s been telling people the results are inconclusive and to come back in a couple weeks. She can’t stop altogether, though. People would get suspicious.”
“Well, they should be suspicious,” I growl. “Thank you for your time.”
I head to the cerebral cortex, frustrated that the twenty-minute journey will severely cut into our prep time, but I suppose we can talk quickly on the walk back. The control nodes come into view first, allowing me to get my bearing. Each node is made from copper, thick poles jutting twenty feet out of the surface, and reportedly they go down much farther deep below. I am at Madam Wade’s hovel and I’m careful not to cross the threshold so we can avoid another incident like the last time I visited, but then I notice the room is already subtly trembling.
“Madam Wade,” I call. “Please come. We’re going to be late.”
“Mmmmm . . . ,” comes a muffled voice. “Matris,” says a pained whisper.
I venture farther in, stepping carefully around the exposed synapses. The trembling intensifies, but not so much that it brings the threat of flying objects. I see Madam Wade laying in the middle of the Knowing circle, in a pool of her own blood. My heart drops, my arm hair stands on end. I still my breath. I hear her raspy breathing as well as coarse breath coming from someone else close by. The attacker is still in the room. My whole body goes cold, and I stand there, frozen. All I can do is be thankful that Kenzah has two head-fathers, because I’m nearly certain he’s about to lose one of them.
A man jumps out from the shadows, knife pointed in my direction. My vision falters for a moment, but then I compose myself and open up my senses. I need Baradonna’s guidance now more than ever. I observe his appearance, his actions. He’s burly and hastily dressed, a deep shadow on his face as though he hasn’t shaved in several days. I wonder at the wives who would let him out of the house so unkempt. I wonder if they’re okay.
“You’ve heard?” he says. “You’ve heard what they do to little boys before they can be born?”
“Yes,” I say. “And that’s why I’m here. To make sure it stops.”
He shakes his head. “It’s too late. You’ve seen what they’ve done to us. They have all the power. Our numbers continue to shrink. I hear they’re going to phase out will-fathers soon. There aren’t enough men to go around, and they like it that way.”
“Nobody is planning on phasing out will-fathers,” I say. “Please, put the knife down, and let’s get some help for Madam Wade.”
He spits at her. “I bet the heart-fathers didn’t think they’d get phased out either. But now look. All that’s left of them is a running gag. ‘Daide’s bells!’” he says, grabbing his crotch. “We can’t allow it. I don’t want to be someone’s joke.”
The way his eyes are darting around, he’s obviously hopped up on mad vapors, but there is real sadness painted all over his face. “You won’t be a joke,” I say to him calmly. “Now, please, put—”
“Don’t come near me!” he screams, then lashes forward. The knife he has is big and metal and sharp—definitely belonging to a beastworker of high status. I jump back. He’s unstable. If I’m going to have any chance of saving Madam Wade, I’ve got to think on my—
Feet.
I glance down at my shoes, then back up at the armed man. When I’d come here before, things had started getting weird as soon as I’d placed my bare feet down on the ground. Vibrations. Flying bones. This place was not fond of me stepping on it before, but now it might offer me the distraction I need to get the upper hand. I speak to the man softly, trying to keep his attention. “Hey, so you’re a will-father. You’ve got a kid then?”
“A girl. But I guess you already knew that,” he softens some. “Kimbra. She’s eleven years old.”
I slip out of my shoe in a single motion.
“Ah!” he says, lunging at me. “Feet in shoes. Do you think I know nothing about what goes on in here?”
“Me? I wasn’t doing anything. Just an itch between my toes. So Kimbra? Named after Kimbra the Wise?”
He looks surprised that I’d know something about beastworker lore. I guess all of those dinners with Adalla have come in handy.
He nods, moving in the opposite direction as I do. Keeping his distance, as if we’re in an odd, slow-motion dance. I keep talking, mentioning all the beastworker customs I can think of—like the dimming of ley lights for privacy and mirrors kept by the bedside to ward off evil spirits and those damn too-spicy egg loafs that always leave my tongue burning. He laughs some at that, saying that his wives complain about him adding in too many peppers as well. He relaxes some, and as I get closer to Madam Wade, I make gentle eye contact with him. “Is it okay if I check on her? Shoes stay on?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, some bit of remorse filtering through his high. “Yeah, shoes stay on, though.”
I turn my back to the man as I kneel at Madam Wade’s side, making myself vulnerable, but allowing me to spit discreetly into my palms. It’s not petal water, but it’ll have to do. I rub my hands together quickly, then I place them against the floor, hoping it’s just skin contact that the synapses need to get a full read on me, and not something particular about the feet.
Immediately, the ground lurches, then bags on the shelves fly at me. I duck at the last moment, covering Madam Wade with my body as dozens of bone-filled projectiles zip by overhead. I hear a thud and a moan. When I look up, the man is covered in bags. I go to rouse Madam Wade, but she’s non-responsive. Her face already ashen, eyes glazed and staring blankly at me.
She’s lost far too much blood. I’m stunned, watching the life drain from her, but by the time I come to my senses and think to fetch help, she’s already gone. I cringe, looking down at her body. My evidence is deep, but all speculative. I needed her—someone with direct experience—to tie it all together. Now she’s dead, and conveniently, a man is to blame for her murder. But I don’t believe for a moment that he orchestrated this alone.
I have never se
en so much scorn fill a room, which is impressive, since barely half of the Senators decided to even show up to hear my grievances. What cuts worse is that it’s nearly an even cross-section of the Senate. Both those who have supported me and those who haven’t. Neither side cares to face these accusations.
But of course, the one person I wish would disappear stands before me in her finely pressed robes, looking as though she’s waited all her life to trounce me at my lowest point.
“Genocide?” Tesaryn Wen says, a smirk on her face. “Interesting that you use such a term against those who are not yet born. Are you suggesting that all mothers who take upon using the throttle fish are murderers then?”
“No, I—” I stumble over my words. “That’s not what I’m trying to say at all. It’s just that the affected children—”
“Fetuses,” Bella Roshaad gently corrects me. I’ve asked for her help in Seske’s absence. I didn’t know who else to go to. She stands firmly by my side, nodding for me to continue.
“The affected fetuses, they’re overwhelmingly male. We took samples from the throttle fish in five different ponds.”
“Samples. Maybe sometimes they’re more male. Maybe sometimes they’re more female,” Tesaryn Wen counters. “I’m sure the statistics balance out over time. Plus Zenzee hormones are known to shift, and since we are tied together so tightly, it can affect us as well. There are hundreds of factors that could be at play. I’ll tell you what, I’ll have Farah perform a full diagnostic on our Zenzee. I’m sure that’ll shed some light on whatever you think is going on here.”
“And I’m just supposed to accept whatever she says as fact? You have Farah and every other tactician eating out of your palm,” I shout. “As well as half the Senators and who knows who—”
“Careful,” Bella Roshaad says, leaning into me so that none of the other Senators can hear. “Outbursts like that will make it nearly impossible for me to talk the others into giving Kallum a seat.”
I pull back. She’s right. With Kallum’s Senate seat on the line, I have to tread carefully. More carefully than I had before. Too much is on the line now, and it isn’t just about me anymore. And yet, I can’t let this atrocity go unmarked.
“If it is merely the Zenzee’s changing hormones, then how do you account for the near even split between the Klang’s women and men? Wouldn’t they have progressed as we have, one way or the other? What about the other ships?”
“Our dearest Matris Kaleigh,” Tesaryn Wen says to me, with the most over-the-top display of flourishes—both hands doing circles while taking her knee bend all the way down to the floor. “We know that you truly enjoy letting your thoughts meander down these fantastical paths, but we, the women of the Senate, have real work to do. If you have no further concrete evidence of your conspiracy, then I’m afraid we’ll have to move on to the next matter of business.”
I grit my teeth. I will not fall quietly by the wayside. Not on something this important.
“You fucking know I had more evidence!” I shout back at her. She’s gotten under my skin, and I resent her for it now more than ever. “Madam Wade was going to testify to her part in this eugenics plot, but she was conveniently silenced before that happened. You want to talk about conspiracies? Let’s talk about who had the motivation to kill her! Maybe it was one of you.”
I stare directly at Tesaryn Wen, refusing to break her gaze.
The entire chamber erupts at the accusation. I have no basis for it, but I was feeling cornered. As the commotion mounts, my shock wears thin. I glance over at Bella Roshaad, and even she shakes her head at me in disapproval. I can’t afford to lose her support as well, but I may just have. She says she’s close to having the votes she needs to approve the legitimacy of Kallum’s Line. We’re getting close. Really close. So close now . . .
“I’m sorry,” I say, holding my hands up. “Please strike that from the record. I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, Madam Wade’s death was unfortunate,” Tesaryn Wen says, suddenly seeming mournful, as if the entire weight of our Zenzee rests on her shoulders. But her body is held too tense. It lies. “We hear she was murdered by a man who’d heard about your theory and believed it. Do you see how dangerous spewing such nonsense can be? It’s best that we drop this matter for now before more damage is done.”
It’s as if my outburst is all she needs to sweep everything—the theory and my accusation—under the rug. “That’s not what I—”
But no one is listening to me.
I stand there, angry. Stewing. Shaking. Of course, they will not take me seriously. They are the complicit ones. What reason would they have to give up that leverage? This couldn’t have been the first time our gender imbalance had been questioned, not with the way the Accountancy Guard has documented every crumb of food, every drop of water, every lash upon every citizen’s eyes for the past few centuries. How many times has the truth been buried deeper and deeper?
I wait for someone to speak out on my behalf. I look back at Bella Roshaad, but even she refuses to meet my gaze now. My outburst had been too much. I’d gone too far. I can’t help but wonder if I would have been able to keep my composure with Seske by my side.
“Cowards!” I shout at the Senate as I pack my belongings. “May your ancestors sit in your shame with you.” No use in holding back now. It is clear that I will have to find allies elsewhere, since I no longer have them aboard Parados I.
But again, no one is listening. They’ve already moved on to whatever else they think is more important.
“You tried,” Bella Roshaad says, patting me on the back. “You should have come to me sooner, before you started chasing down evidence. I could have better prepared you to go up against them. Or at least I could have warned you that it was a losing battle.” She lowers her voice. “Some traditions are not traditions because we want them, but because we need them.”
I look up at her, puzzled.
“You have to choose your battles, Doka,” she says to me. “You can’t be the champion of every cause. Every injustice. You’ll worry yourself sick. Last thing we need is another dead Matris.”
I already feel like a husk of a person. She’s been doing this so much longer than I have. Perhaps she has a point. I nod. “Did I completely ruin Kallum’s chance at the Senate?”
“Their grudges run deep, but their memories are short. It will take some time, but I will try to smooth things over with the others. I suggested this before, but I think you better heed me now: take a few weeks off from your duties. Make yourself scarce around here, and give the Senators time to forget. And that means no more snooping or digging up new problems.”
I look at her sharply, but there’s no anger in her voice. Rather, there’s sympathy in her eyes. I nod. Maybe that would be the best for everyone.
She smiles. “That’s a good lad,” she says, patting my cheek before heading back to her seat.
The next speaker is already presenting her case before the Senate—a tactician raising concern that the Zenzee herd has made a sudden change of course toward the anomalous star—that magenta pulse that dominates more and more of our sky. There is worry it is unstable. That it could pose a threat. Several of the other ships feel they are ready to break free from the herd, not willing to risk what we’d find at the end of the three-year journey. I stop fuming and tune my ear to the discussion.
Ideas churn in my head. I see opportunities: one, a way for me to get off this ship (and therefore away from the Senators) for a while, and two, to get us closer to self-sufficiency. Our goal should not be only to minimize the damage we do our Zenzee, but instead we should seek to actively feed back into the system, helping her to become stronger as well. And not just our Zenzee. If we establish a rapport, bring down the walls of secrecy between all our ships, then we can be independent and interdependent at the same time. And with those downed walls, it would be much harder to bury the secrets that haunt our history. And our present. I smile to myself.
After the assembly has
adjourned, I catch Bella Roshaad as she exits the chambers.
“You said I should make myself scarce around here. Well, what if I leave our Zenzee altogether? I’d like to propose that we form an exploratory task force to gauge the interest the other clans have in breaking off from the Zenzee herd,” I say to her. She’s the one who suggested that I come to her with my ideas before I had time to fully hatch them, so here we are. “And I could head it. But I really need your help to bring this idea before the Senate.”
Bella Roshaad sighs. “I also said that you shouldn’t be snooping and prying. The point is for you to get some rest, not get fixated on inter-Zenzee relations. Besides, no one’s going to support us leaving the herd. We’re nowhere near ready.”
“We could be ready if we make it a priority. I think I should call a meeting with all the heads of the other ships. It’s time we seriously discuss striking out on our own. We’ll have safety in numbers. We’ll be able to share our knowledge with the other clans and form a more perfect harmony with our Zenzee, so that we benefit mutually from each other. We can’t truly be independent until the temptation of the Zenzee herd is gone.”
Bella Roshaad shakes her head. “It’s too risky. And I told you, you need to be resting.”
“But it was your idea! You’re the one who suggested it at the assembly when we were dealing with the Klang’s dying Zenzee!”
“I only proposed such a thing to prove a point and to make the idea of taking on refugees more palatable.”
“It might have been a far-fetched idea then, but look how far we have come since. We’ve integrated an entire clan into ours. I know it’s been slow going, but your vision of being more compassionate is growing closer by the day. We’re allowing the Klang to work among us now, and that’s already paid off from their added knowledge about the Zenzee. The researchers say we’ve got many decades now, maybe a whole century that this Zenzee will last us, and that’s if we don’t continue our improvements. Soon she’ll be better off than how we found her! Consider it? Please?”
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