Playing God

by Sarah Zettel

  His fingers scrabbled at the edge of the windowsill as if he were trying to get a grip on it. “It's insane. I know it's insane. The head-mechanics would probably turn me inside out and yank half my webbing if I went in. The Getesaph are brutal, barbaric, ignorant, prejudiced, superstitious, filthy, and I'm deadly poison to them. And I want to stay,” he said to the backs of his hands. “I've been hauling nets on nights when all three of the big moons swelled the tides up. I've held a baby that crawled from her mother's womb and placed her safe in the pouch. I've dug survivors out of bomb wreckage. I've gone to funerals and howled at the top of my lungs. I've run down the streets beside a father. I've been lost in crowds so huge I couldn't see the end of them. I've talked with hundreds of different people across dozens of cities. I've—” He stopped. “I've been alive, Lynn.”

  Lynn looked at him thoughtfully. She remembered back to college, and hearing about Arron's family. They were scattered between half a dozen enclaves. All of them wanted him to come live in their world and join their work. He'd grown up bouncing from territory to territory. Not once did anybody, to hear Arron tell it anyway, even acknowledge the possibility that he might want to strike out on his own.

  Here, though, with the Getesaph, he was virtually unique, and absolutely impossible to qualify. He would be accepted as himself, because there was nothing they could compare him to. That should have made him the ultimate outsider, but instead, again, to hear him tell it, it had allowed him to make his own place, possibly for the first time in his life.

  And I'm going to tell him he can't have it? Lynn shook her head. She could understand that yearning. In her case, though, when her chance came, her family had thrown a party, and she had been getting regular, encouraging hy-writes from them ever since they left the Solar system.

  She didn't agree with Arron. His view of the relocation and Bioverse's mission was completely twisted, but she couldn't, she wouldn't deny him a place to call home.

  She straightened herself up. “Well, the city-ships are the Dedelphi's home for the duration. Our contract says they say who gets to come and go, or stay.” Arron turned to face her fully, his face relaxing as she spoke. “So, if they invited you, great. Have a good time, and make sure you give your addresses to me and David so we can invite you over for dinner.” The expression of relief on Arron's face was so intense, Lynn had to fight back a laugh. “Name of the Prophet, Arron, what did you think I was going to say?”

  He smiled ruefully. “I don't know. I thought maybe, because of the knot…”

  “Ah, yes, the knot” Lynn raised one finger. “Because of the knot, I am going to ask you a favor.”

  His expression hardened. “Lynn, I am not going to zombie out that knot just because—”

  Lynn threw back her head and laughed. “God Almighty, will you stop casting me as the villain here?” Now, he just looked startled. “All I was going to ask is that you take a look around at what we're doing. I mean a real, honest, hard look. After that, if you still think this is nothing but another Avitrol looting, then, okay, that's what you think, and I've never been able to change your mind on anything anyway.” They both shared a small smile at that. “But if you see what I hope you'll see, which is that we are here to ensure the Dedelphi's future rather than take it away, promise me you'll tie another knot.”

  Arron nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

  She stood up and walked across to him. “Thank you.” She touched his shoulder. He lifted his hand and covered hers. They stood like that for a moment, recovering old feelings and readjusting to new ones.

  “Now get out of here.” She slapped him gently and pointed toward the door. “Some of us, not having been adopted by politically powerful families, are working for a living.”

  “Thank you, Lynn.” He embraced her briefly but warmly. With a confidence in his step that hadn't been there when he came in, he took his leave.

  So, you've become a Getesaph. I wish you luck, Arron, thought Lynn as she sat down in front of the comm station. And anything else you might need.

  She signed herself in and waited for the options screen to appear. Instead, the words URGENT MESSAGE WAITING flashed on the screen.

  What? “Station, open urgent message.”

  A Dedelphi's head and shoulders appeared on the screen with her ears lowered halfway toward her scalp. It was Praeis Shin.

  Uh-oh. Lynn sat up a little straighter.

  The recording started. “Lynn, I am so sorry to drop this in your lap. You received a letter saying that I wanted to go to the Hundred Isles, just to make sure everything was ad right, and could I have a room for myself and my daughter Resaime?” Her ears dropped a little further. “That letter was written by my sister Senejess. She and Resaime are in the Hundred Isles now, under my name. They're spying on the Getesaph, of course.” Her nostrils pinched shut. “Lynn, you will do what you want about this, but it might be best to let her wander around. We both know she won't find anything. Having her come back empty-handed will do us more good than you snatching her up. In fact, snatching her up will add fuel to the idea that you must have something to hide.” She straightened her ears most of the way. “I am so sorry to do this, my respected ally, and I'm not done yet. Please, I beg you, try to find a way to let my daughter know she can contact you if necessary. Her aunt is not trustworthy, and she's alone over there.

  “Thank you.”

  The recording shut down. Lynn started to curse, slowly, methodically, and heatedly. Resaime, what in God's name did you think you were doing!

  She sighed. That's not really a question anymore, is it? The question is what am I going to do now that she's done it?

  She rubbed her eyes. “Station, record message for Praeis Shin t'Theria at Getesaph Port 1. Message begins. Praeis, hope the trip went smoothly. Just wanted to let you know I'm here if you need anything. Take care of yourself.” Which lets Senejess know her ruse has worked. Her mouth pressed into a hard, straight line. “Station, send message. Record next message for Resaime Shin t'Theria. Message begins: Res, it's Lynn. Your mother's probably going to be busy as all get out here. If you're bored, or if you two need anything, here's my address.” She stopped. “Station, attach urgent call addresses. Send message.” Which lets Res know where I'm at. “Station, record third message for Praeis Shin t'Theria in Home Shin on the t'Aori peninsula. “Praeis, I got your message, and I'll do everything I can. I've just sent my emergency addresses to Res. She's not alone over here. Call if anything else comes up.” She paused. “Station, send message.” Which lets her know we're still friends.

  Lynn let her head hang back until she was staring at the ceiling.

  Let's see, where're we at? We've got a conspiracy theory going with the t'Theria, which has led them to send spies to the Hundred Isles, where the Getesaph're so nervous about the t'Therians they can't stand the idea of staying on the ground while the t'Therians are in the air. If the Getesaph find out the t'Therians are spies, the t'Therians will be killed, the Getesaph will pull out of the Confederation, and I'll be fired, if I'm not jailed for sabotaging a company endeavor because I knew about this.

  Well, I knew this was going to be a challenge. Lynn straightened up, and ran a hand over her scalp before she remembered she didn't have any hair to smooth down. I'm just not sure I realized how much of one.

  Chapter X

  Thank you for your careful attention to these matters.” The Human presenter, who'd introduced herself as Escort Shia, was a round, gold-skinned woman whose eyes had been artificially enlarged at some point. She spoke Getesaph with only the barest trace of a British accent. “We stand ready to serve you and yours in any way we can.”

  Arron stood on the terrace overlooking the gathering room. He had attended his departure session earlier that morning. It was actually better than he bad expected. There was very little obvious propaganda. The emphasis was on exactly how events would proceed from here and how to get more information or help at every stage. Escort Shia did more than just speak the la
nguage. She was fluid in idiom and courtesy, and her audience had responded by questioning her openly, which was not something the reticent Getesaph did easily.

  So, I can't hate the whole project, thought Arron, with more good humor than he expected to find inside himself. Damn. I may have to make good on my promise to Lynn after all.

  Something bothered him though. Something had bothered him all yesterday and today as he walked through corridors and lounges set aside for the three thousand Getesaph of the preparatory wave who would depart tomorrow. He'd been welcomed by mothers and sisters he knew, and a number he didn't. Everyone was very interested in how he planned to present the history of this occasion, and he had to tell them honestly he was still working on it. Everything felt smooth, easy, and tinged with a kind of cheerful excitement.

  He'd pulled out his portable and its recorder and made some records. He'd conducted a few interviews among the mothers, sisters, and daughters, both the ones getting ready for immediate departure and those waiting for their turn, even though that wasn't coming for at least a week.

  He still couldn't put his finger on what was wrong. So he roamed the port, as if he hoped to see the answer shining on a bulletin screen somewhere.

  On the main floor, the meeting was breaking up in the Getesaph's typical leisurely fashion. Nobody had left, not even the smaller daughters. Instead, they broke into family groups and began lively discussions among themselves, stopping occasionally to query their neighbors on some point or the other. Escort Shia moved among them, smiling and greeting. She paused at one group after another, adding her lilting voice to the general chaos of confined conversation. Children clung to their mothers’ shoulders, or sat at their feet, listening patiently. A more restless group had started a hide-and-seek game between the family knots.

  Arron found his eyes following the children. There weren't that many of them, for such a big group of Getesaph. Some daughters had probably been allowed to stay back in their rooms. Others were probably in the cafeterias or child-care areas looking after their younger sisters. Something itched in the back of his mind. The prep wave wasn't taking any walking children, he knew that, but still… He watched the children and mothers more closely. There was something, there was something…

  Then he saw it. Not one of the Getesaph had a live belly. Not one.

  His eyes scanned the crowd, straining to see someone, anyone, with her full belly rolling with her offspring, to see a tiny, curious pair of ears poking out over a pouch rim. There were over a hundred young adult Getesaph down there. It was extremely unlikely that not one of them would be carrying children in her pouch.

  Unless it was deliberately decided to keep the carrying mothers away from the place. That was done, frequently. During wars. Carrying mothers with children in their bellies or on their backs did not enter into combat.

  Arron scanned the crowds again. There were children on shoulders, but they could clearly walk for themselves and were hanging on to their mothers for convenience or fun. No infants clung to their mothers’ folds or nestled in the crooks of their arms. These would all be outside sisters, but even then, an outside sister did not give her children over to the care of her sisters until they could walk. She would still be expected to do her job until then, whatever her job was. Unless she was a combat soldier.

  They are going into an unknown situation. They probably just want to make sure it's safe before they bring in the carrying mothers. It makes sense.

  He tried to turn away. He did not want to think about this anymore. He had an explanation. A good one.

  But he stayed where he was and started looking for faces he knew. He saw Ovrth Chaick's crooked shoulder, and Trindt Toth's earless head. Dayisen Vshil, Dayisen Bol, Ovrth Wes, Trindt Athsk, Shesk Richkin, Ovrth Ith.

  Arron gripped the balcony rail hard with both hands. Even his gloves did not keep the edge from biting into his palms.

  Ovrth, trindt, shesk, and dayisen. Soldiers and officers.

  Irat Queth.

  And doctors.

  Arron let go of the rail one finger at a time. He watched the Getesaph until they began to trickle away, and all he saw were soldiers. Combat soldiers and officer coordinators.

  At last, he did turn away. With his gaze pointed toward the toes of his boots, he hurried along the catwalk and didn't stop until he reached the door of his dorm room. He slammed it shut behind himself, for once very glad of the privacy of Human quarters.

  He dropped into the stiff guest chair and realized his hands were shaking. He balled them into fists.

  I am being an idiot. I am being a complete idiot. I am reaching conclusions for which I have no data. That's worse than stupid, that's sloppy.

  He was out of the guest chair and across the room before he even had time to think about it. He snatched up his portable and jacked it straight into the wall. Sitting cross-legged on the mattress, his hands hovered over the keys as he tried to decide what to look for.

  Finally, he pulled out the threads to the Bioverse Relocation Public Database. (We are here to serve you and yours!)

  Arron typed in his request.

  PASSENGER MANIFEST FOR SHUTTLE SOJOURN FOR 5/17 GETESAPH YEAR 3078.

  Because he was registered as a Getesaph passenger, the threads reeled out into the database without challenge or obstruction. A list of names for the preparatory wave personnel appeared on the screen. Arron scanned the titles in front of the personal names. Hrashn, engineers. Tchilick, farmers. Chkat, architects. No soldiers, except, of course, for the wave leaders the Dayisen Rual, Lareet and Umat. He shot out threads for the next day's manifest, and the next, and the next. No soldiers. Not one.

  And not one of the names matched the faces he had seen in the departure session.

  Arron's fingers trembled as he shut down his portable. His eyes stared at the blank walls of his room.

  Oh, My. God.

  It took him a long moment to realize the fierce, sick sensation building up inside him was anger.

  “How could you?” he whispered to the walls. In the next second he was on his feet. “How could you do this!”

  He stood there for a moment, his lungs heaving and his hands clenching and unclenching.

  What do I do? His knees wanted to crumple again. He paced, rubbing his upper arms. The fleeting thought reached him that Lareet and Umat might not be part of this. But that was impossible. They had been ensconced in the Parliament deciding who would be in the preparatory wave. They were the ones who had asked him to speak to Lynn about changing the schedule.

  He bit his lip. Lynn. He had to tell Lynn. She could stop the relocation until… Until some compromise was worked out. This was a communications problem, it had to be. This was old fears that had not been quieted by the Confederation.

  That had to be it.

  He sent out a new thread to get Lynn's location. She was in a meeting with Parliamentary representatives. Something about ensuring open communications between the city-ships and the ground. He left his portable on the bed. She had to stop everything. Right now. Before—

  He choked off the thought and strode down the empty Human corridor. Out in the port's main area, his eyes flickered back and forth like a Getesaph's ears trying to follow two conversations at once. Here was a mother with infants on her shoulders. Here was one with a live belly. But they had their luggage and sleeping mats piled around them. Indigents who had come early. They weren't supposed to be here, they weren't soldiers, not full-time soldiers anyway.

  Lynn's meeting was just breaking up. The door was open and Humans trickled out in ones and twos. None of them was Lynn. Lynn was still in the meeting room, silhouetted against a schedule board with Dayisen Lareet and Dayisen Umat.

  He had no chance to move. Umat glanced right at him.

  “Scholar Arron. What is the matter?”

  Arron opened his mouth, but no words formed in his mind.

  Lynn frowned at him. “Can it wait a minute? There's another couple of things to go over here.”

>   Arron made up his mind. “No. It can't.” He walked into the room, keeping his attention fixed on the sisters, who towered over him.

  “Dayisen Lareet, Dayisen Umat, why has Parliament falsified the passenger identities for the first wave of relocation?”

  They all stared at him. He let them.

  Lynn found her voice first. “Arron, would you care to elaborate on that thesis?”

  “The names and positions of the Getesaph in the registration files do not match the names and positions of the Getesaph preparing to leave with the shuttles today.”

  A dozen different expressions chased one another across Lynn's face. For a moment he thought she was going to ask if he was serious. Instead, she faced Lareet and Umat.

  “Is there any reason Scholar Arron would make such an accusation?”

  “Yes,” said Lareet. “There is.”

  Umat tackled Lynn. They both sprawled on the floor. Arron stared for a second, and it was too long. Lareet dived around him and slapped the door control. The portal slid shut.

  Lynn struggled under Umat's weight, landing ineffective blows on Umat's arms and shoulders.

  “Room voice!” Lynn shrieked.

  “Voice off,” bellowed Lareet over her. “Set keyboard input at this station.”

  Arron tried to duck sideways, but Lareet matched his movement. “Come with us, Scholar Arron,” she said softly. “Neither of you has to be hurt. Especially not you, Sister.”

  “This is crazy.” Arron feinted left, then right. He got two steps to the comm station before Lareet caught him around the waist and hauled him backward.

  Arron flailed in her grasp, kicking backward reflexively. She caught hold of his wrist and twisted his arm neatly behind his back. With her greater weight, she leaned into the small of his back, forcing him gasping to his knees.

  “No one has to get hurt,” she insisted. “You are not our enemies.”

  “Fuck you both!” screamed Lynn. She grabbed Umat's wrists, trying to keep Umat's hands away from her throat. Umat gradually forced Lynn's hands down. One-handed, the Getesaph undid the catches on Lynn's faceplate. Her ears and nose folded closed and she reached into the helmet. Arron heard a wordless scream before Umat pressed her hand hard onto Lynn's throat.