by J. S. Fields
I don’t know if I could tell you if something is going wrong, because I don’t know what is supposed to be right, Emn finally responded. There is too much going on. Everything is alive and talking in some form or another. I don’t know how much protection I can offer here. My head is…my head is full of chatter.
Emn, if I die before we finish our last chat, I am going to be very upset.
That did make Emn laugh. Warmth filled Atalant’s mind, followed by a brush of Emn’s hand against her own that made her body feel warmer still.
The crew passed through the doorway, and the Ardulan ushered them a few more meters before indicating a small room. “Everyone in, please. This won’t take long. While you’re here, I’ll review your scans.”
“I hate xenon arc lamps,” Neek muttered as she stepped into the room. The door shut and then sealed with a thin, shimmering membrane. The lights dimmed to pale purple, and a bright, white beam shot from the floor and began to move slowly across the room. When it got to Atalant, she tensed even though the beam was painless. She and Yorden had had to go through decontamination procedures every time they stopped at Missotona, too. It was never a good way to start a vacation. At least they weren’t going to be x-rayed. Atalant wasn’t certain how to explain the vegetable peeler in her boot. Even so, she wished they’d had time to pick up a few more weapons before entering this fairy tale.
The beam hit the far wall and shut off. Immediately, the door reopened and the Ardulan male entered. He placed a thin, square film on the shoulder of each of the crew, except for Emn. Instead, he placed one near the hem of her dress. Atalant watched the film dissolve upon contact, leaving a wet patch and a faint smell of cinnamon.
“Your passport circuitry is now tied to your current apparel, so be sure to wear it when walking around Ardulum.” He motioned for the crew to follow as he led them from the complex and outside into the orange glare of the rising sun. “If you walk to the corner of this road—” Atalant looked down and kicked the heel of her boot into the wooden pavement, briefly wondering how they managed to maintain it. “—and wait, there should be a ground transport arriving within the next ten minutes. The driver can take you wherever you desire, whether it be an eatery or lodging. Your ship will remain parked, without charge, at this berth for the duration of your stay. If you are interested in shopping, note that many of the stores—especially at the capital, which is a thirty-minute flight if you don’t go into orbit—are having massive sales to prepare for the next move. You could find some bargains.”
“Go back a minute,” Atalant said when the customs official stopped talking. “Is Ardulum planning on leaving this system soon?”
He nodded. “Yes. The move is scheduled for two days from now. I hope you weren’t planning on an extended stay. Visitors are not allowed on-world during a move.”
“No, just a brief visit,” Atalant replied quickly. “Before we head off on our exciting vacation—what currency is accepted here and in the capital?”
“Locals mostly use a barter economy. Foreigners can use any of the major currencies, including andal chits, sapphires, and diamonds.”
“Lovely. Thank you very much.” Atalant put her arm around Nicholas’s shoulder and steered him away from a wooden posting board.
“Aren’t we here to take in the culture?” Nicholas asked as his foot caught a bump in the road. “Are we in some sort of hurry?”
“That remains to be seen,” Atalant responded tersely, “Take a look around.”
Nicholas shrugged Atalant off and spun slowly in a circle, surveying. The buildings were short, most no more than two stories, and lined either side of the road they were currently walking on. The path itself was andal, but the buildings looked more yellowish, perhaps made from a different tree. Most of the shops looked closed, but several Ardulans were outside. A family was directly across the street from them, and just behind them an older man was sweeping the entrance near his shop. Nicholas stared at the old man, and then at the family, before realization dawned on his face.
“That guy made it seem like they get tourists,” he said slowly. “So why the gawking? We’re just normal bipeds.”
Atalant felt the side of Emn’s dress brush her hand as the young woman moved up next to her. “They’re not staring at you all. They’re staring at me. Only me.”
“We need to get either somewhere less rural, so people aren’t so wary of differences, or somewhere inside. Then, we need to discuss a plan. We have two days here and don’t know what we hope to achieve, other than getting the hell away from the Nugels.”
A small hovercraft pulled up near the curb where the crew stood, and the side door slid open. Atalant peered in. It certainly smelled like a taxi. Regardless of species, they all seemed to have a similar bouquet of unwashed feet and stale alcohol. She decided to chance it.
“Capital city?” Atalant asked the driver. She peered in to see a young woman, probably a second don, at the console. “We’d like lodging, if possible. Cheap lodging.”
“Common…” the woman said under her breath. She tapped the console in front of herself a few times and then nodded. “Ride…long and much cost. Accept?”
“Accept,” Atalant said and climbed into the craft. “Everyone in. It will be tight, but we’ll make it work.” It was clear the craft was meant to seat only two passengers, but with some rearranging and complete disregard for personal space, the door was finally shut and the craft took off.
“Emn,” Atalant began as she shifted against the door. “The capital is probably going to be a safer place to start out. Could you give me an idea of what you are after? I know you’re thinking of staying, but since off-worlders can’t stay during a move, I… I don’t want to leave you here after only two days on a planet we know nothing about.” She thought about chasing the words with an I don’t want to leave you here at all, but decided against it.
Emn leaned her head against the door, her eyes focused on the passing scenery. They sped past a plantation of andal trees planted in firm rows delighting in the bright sunlight. A group of first-don children waved at them, halting their chasing game between the rows to gawk.
“I want to see things, of course. Oceans, beaches, mountains, important cultural sites… But first—” She paused as the craft slowed through a small town. Paper banners hung across buildings, written in a script Atalant did not recognize. They passed a square where families in long dresses danced around the thick trunk of an andal. Green and gold sparkled and highlighted everything. Atalant turned from the window, uncomfortable.
“At some point, I want to see a doctor. I want…I want to know more about myself, about what the Risalians did and did not change. After I get some kind of confirmation that I am an Ardulan, that I really belong here, I’ll consider what to do.” The ship leaned starboard for a moment as the driver swerved around a herd of migrating titha before righting itself. Atalant pitched forward into Nicholas, steadying herself on the back of the seat in front of her.
“Let’s not make any rash decisions, okay?” Atalant said. She righted herself and gave Nicholas a pat on the shoulder. “Sorry about that, Nick.”
Nicholas snorted and nudged Emn’s foot with his own. “Want to change seats?”
Emn looked over at her and tilted her head.
Atalant chose to ignore the images that popped, of their own accord, into her mind, coughed, and turned back to Nicholas. “We have another pressing problem.” They were passing another town. Another festival. Another mass of colors that held too many memories.
“Money?” Nicholas nodded. “I figured. I have five diamond rounds left from what Chen gave us.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about currency,” Emn said apologetically.
“I’ve got a small bag of sapphires I found on the Nugel ship, in addition to two diamond rounds left over from our trip to the Xinar System.” Atalant lifted up her hip and fished into her deep side pocket, pulling out a heavy, woven bag. “I haven’t counted them though. G
lad I snagged it before docking the ship. Let’s hope that altogether it’s enough to uncover the mysteries of Ardulum.”
ATALANT STOOD IN a mossy clearing, shaded by the canopy of one large andal tree. She could hear chirping and rustling, but didn’t bother to look for the source. The wind was still, the temperature pleasant.
Slowly, she walked towards the andal’s trunk. She ran her fingers across the curly bark, which flaked in her hand and fell to the forest floor. Curious, Atalant dug her fingernails underneath a large piece and pulled it back. She peeled away a long strip, exposing the pale sapwood. Thin droplets began to form on the edges of the rip, growing larger until they ran down the sapwood to the other end of the tear. Atalant watched as the drips came faster, the thin sap building to a milky white gel. The sapwood became difficult to see. She touched the white sap with her fingertip and was surprised to find it viscous, hardening in the open air. After several minutes, the sap crystalized, forming a protective barrier over the wound.
“I’m sorry about that,” Atalant said to the tree. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Didn’t mean to hurt whom?” a voice responded distantly. “Atalant, I think you’re dreaming.”
Confused, Atalant closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them again, she was staring out a window overlooking a busy marketplace. Bipeds and a small spattering of quadrupeds were milling around brightly painted wood stands that gleamed in the rising sunlight. She could see wares of every sort, from furniture and textiles to paints and fresh fruit, although the majority of the crafts appeared to be made from wood. The species diversity was huge, and Atalant racked her brain to place the features she saw.
“Where…” She turned from her side to her back to see Emn peering down at her. The younger woman had one knee on the bed and a hand on Atalant’s shoulder, which she was almost certain had shaken her awake. Her bearings came back quickly. They were in lodging above a bar, in the capital. They’d had enough rounds to get their own rooms. She’d collapsed immediately upon entering and hadn’t even made it under the rayon blanket, which, with the damp chill in the morning air, she regretted. It was morning…still? No, again. She’d slept a day away, and the buzzing-rustling in her head was still there, and still just as irritating.
“I’m sorry. I heard you thrashing around from the hallway when I walked past your room. I wanted to make sure you were all right. We all slept through yesterday. There’s been so much going on recently—I think we were all exhausted.” Emn slid her hand from Atalant’s shoulder and placed it on her own knee. The hem of her dress lay just above, clean of maroon stains. “Good morning, too. I can leave, if you like. I just wanted to be sure you were okay.”
Atalant tried to shake the dream from her mind, focusing instead on the opportunity before her. The woman before her. There was so much to do, so much she didn’t understand, and yet, maybe, there was time to…to what? Maybe to get to know adult Emn and stop hiding from a million silly, little fears?
“Good morning.” Atalant propped herself up on an elbow and reached over with her free hand, pushing some strands of hair from Emn’s face. Atalant’s hand trembled, but only a little. She doubted that Emn noticed. “It was just a stupid dream. I think I’ve had it before.” She tucked the strands behind Emn’s ear. “You slept okay?”
Emn caught Atalant’s hand and held it, a smile forming at the edges of her mouth. “Yes, but I could hear Nicholas snoring through the wall.” She shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, frowned, and then stood back up again. “May I stay for a bit? Nicholas will be around in a few minutes to join us for breakfast, but before we’re all together again, and before this day starts…it’d be nice to spend some time with you.”
Atalant felt Emn’s hesitant, unspoken question. There was an unfortunate time constraint this morning—she definitely remembered telling everyone to gather for breakfast upon waking. Now though, looking at the dark-haired woman in the thin, airy dress near the edge of her bed, Atalant wasn’t the least bit interested in breakfast. She sat up, swung her legs around, and patted the mattress to her left.
“You’re welcome to stay,” Atalant said. She smiled, although it probably appeared more tentative than she planned, and pulled Emn towards her. The younger woman released Atalant’s hand and sat, close enough that their hips touched.
There was silence then, both verbal and mental, as Emn watched Atalant and Atalant tried to force her eyes to Emn’s instead of to the hemline of her dress, which was halfway up her thighs. The markings on each leg mirrored one another, and it was increasingly difficult not to imagine tracing those lines with her fingers as they spun higher, underneath the dress. Would the markings be raised from the skin there, too, or simply a part of it?
Atalant’s breath felt heavy, but she was certain it was not from the humid air. Dark green eyes watched her—patient but with clear desire.
“Atalant?” Emn prodded. The look in her eyes turned to concern.
“You’re sure about…me?” Atalant asked, cutting her off. Words seemed safer than letting her mind wander, and certainly safer than letting her hands wander. “We found Ardulum. We’re on Ardulum. For all we know you’re a god here, too, what with all the markings you have.” She focused on the triangles under Emn’s eyes and, with a visibly shaking hand, traced one with a fingertip. The marking was raised, ever so slightly, and felt warmer than the surrounding skin. Atalant wanted to cup Emn’s cheek, to pull her forward and to let her hand slide down, but she drew back instead, putting her at arm’s length. She had to be sure. Emn had to be sure. It wasn’t even just about age. It was about status, and Talent, and, well, an Ardulan and a Neek. “There are other women here. Men and gatois too, if you are interested in them. People who would be closer to you. You know. In ability.”
Emn sighed and smoothed out a wrinkle near the hem of her dress. “It’s my markings that frighten you? If I had only the one, would it be any different?”
“Gods of any form just generally aren’t my type,” Atalant responded, trying to diffuse some of the hurt she heard in Emn’s tone with humor. “Or at least, they generally don’t go for me.”
Emn didn’t come closer, but she did take one of Atalant’s hands in hers again and squeezed it. Her skin felt warm and inviting, and Atalant desperately wished her brain would shut up so she could collapse into Emn’s arms and forget about Ardulum entirely.
“I’m not a god, Atalant—at least, not for you. I’m just Emn. Nothing else.”
Atalant snorted good-naturedly. “I think that is a significant understatement.” She flipped Emn’s hand over and studied the pentagons that circled her palm. The lines here were more delicate than the ones on her face, and looked almost fragile. Atalant let her thumb glide over the markings once, twice, and then a third time. She looked up just before the fourth pass, caught Emn’s delighted smile, and immediately released Emn’s hand before looking back at the bedsheets.
“I was always an Aggression Talent, you know, when we played as kids. It never would have occurred to me to make up markings other than the ones we already knew about.”
“Do you think they’re not of Ardulum?” Emn asked in a tight voice.
Atalant looked up at her, eyes wide. “No, of course they’re of Ardulum. They’re just…unexpected. Like you. I don’t do well with unexpected, but I’m…I’m working on it.” Gah, she was babbling and probably just making Emn feel worse. She needed to change the subject.
“Do you think Ardulans only came to Neek to harvest our andal?” Atalant asked. She scooted back to Emn until their hips once again touched. She’d stay here, damn it, no matter how flustered she got. “Or do you think they genuinely wanted to help us be better?”
“Better than what, Atalant?” Emn seemed to relax with the change in topic, and to help make amends, Atalant wrapped her arm around the younger woman’s waist. She felt Emn’s relief instantly and puzzled over it. Did Emn really think Atalant wasn’t interested? There was just so much else to
contend with!
“Was there something wrong with Neek before the Ardulans came that needed fixing?” Emn continued. “Did you need to have spaceships and food printers? Did you need cellulosic technology?”
“We Neek do not look back fondly on our pastoral heritage. I think you could argue that we wanted more from life…we just didn’t know how to get it.” Atalant let her gaze fall back to Emn’s exposed thighs and again felt the heat rise in her cheeks. This time she let the emotions leak through their bond as she let her head rest on Emn’s shoulder. “I wonder, though, if the price was worth it.”
“It wasn’t for the Keft. Maybe it was for the Neek. Maybe the Ardulans were upfront about what they wanted to do, and the president at the time said it was all right. Maybe—” Emn wordlessly held out a hand, and when the Atalant offered hers, Emn placed the latter, cautiously, on her own knee. “Maybe they weren’t gods at first. Maybe that happened later.” You are welcome here, Atalant, if you want.
Atalant considered. While she did so, she traced the icosahedron that covered Emn’s kneecap. “I don’t know. My people need prodding. They need direction.”
“I don’t think that is unique to the Neek,” Emn interjected. Atalant heard the catch in her breathing and couldn’t help smiling. “A lot of species have a hard time with change. That’s not so unusual a concept.”
“I suppose not,” Atalant agreed. She shifted so that she was facing Emn, their knees touching now instead of their hips. Now there was nowhere to look but into green eyes, at the swell of Emn’s chest, or at the markings that spun across her thighs. Atalant stilled her hand but stayed locked in Emn’s gaze, letting her mind work through its own hurdles while their conversation continued.
“I think Yorden would have agreed with me that the Neek are particularly hardheaded. Just being given technology wouldn’t have been enough. Teaching them how to use it wouldn’t have been enough. The old texts… I’ve been through almost all of the main ones now, and it’s funny: the Ardulans never refer to themselves as gods.”