Playing God

by Sarah Zettel

  Aires's ears dipped and straightened. “We need to send for Praeis Shin.”

  Vaier felt her muscles tighten. “Perhaps not for this.”

  “Who else?” asked Ueani, stalking close to them. “It is her family who has done this to us. It is her honor to rebuild.”

  Vaier sighed. She took Aires's hand in her right hand and Ueani's in her left, so they'd feel the strength of the question. “Have you considered, my Sisters, there may come a time when we ask too much of her insanity of separateness?”

  Ueani's skin squirmed under her palm, but Aires's did not.

  “I have,” said Aires. “If you can name someone else who might possibly be willing to put together a force too slowly to do any good, and yet not get caught orchestrating the delay, we will send for her instead.”

  Vaier closed her eyes. “There is no one. We will send for Praeis Shin.” And one day, her Ancestors will send for us and demand an explanation for what we have done to their daughter.

  Ueani pulled out of Vaier's grasp and stalked over to the clerical door. She flung the arched portal open and bellowed, “Osh! Elpetar!”

  The two assistants scuttled inside, stationed themselves with their backs to the door, closed their eyes, and raised their hands.

  “We need Praeis Shin found and brought to us at once,” said Ueani.

  The wrinkles in Osh's heavy forehead deepened. “Majestic Sister, Praeis Shin is in the debating chamber. She is petitioning to meet with you.”

  “Now, that really is magnificently convenient,” said Aires mildly. “Tell her we grant the petition.”

  The assistants hurried out the main doors. Ueani paced the Audience Room twice before Praeis Shin entered, followed closely by her remaining daughter. Vaier found time to pity the daughter. She was just about ready to cross to motherhood and here she was, alone with her insane mother, surrounded by disloyal aunts and her-Ancestors-only-knew what kind of cousins. If she were not allowed daughters of her own soon, she might end up as solitary and unstable as her mother.

  Praeis and her daughter walked into the small circle of desks, chairs, and sofas. She stood in front of the sofa where Vaier and Aires sat, raised her hands, and closed her eyes.

  “Thank you, Majestic Sisters, for granting my petition.”

  “Open your eyes, Praeis Shin. Sit yourself and your daughter down.” When Praeis opened her eyes, Vaier gestured her to a divan. “In truth, we did not know you were waiting for us. For this, we apologize. You have done difficult and dangerous service for us and of all our citizens and servants. You should not be neglected.”

  Praeis looked at her blankly, as if trying to decide what expression she should paste on her face for this official flattery. Aires opened her mouth, but Vaier touched her arm to silence her.

  “The words of Queens are lighter than feathers and more easily torn apart, I know,” Vaier went on. “But I hope you choose to believe what we are saying right now.”

  “My Ancestors see I have nothing but trust in my Majestic Sister,” said Praeis piously. “But I am wondering what is to follow.”

  Laughter exploded out of Ueani. She flung her head back and let the sound echo off the ceiling. “Very good, Praeis Shin. You may be insane, but you are not stupid.”

  Vaier felt her ears fall back against her skull. She straightened them hurriedly. After this interview, they were going to have to talk to Ueani about self-control under stress.

  The daughter bared her teeth, probably reflexively. Praeis's face went tight, and she covered her daughter's mouth with one hand.

  Vaier mustered a dismissive tone. “We have all been through too many days without peace here.” She avoided looking at either Ueani or Aires. She could feel Aires's skepticism like a breath of cold air against her skin. “And I'm afraid we must go through more. You know better than anyone else that there is an explosion waiting to happen in the peninsula.”

  Praeis's ears drooped briefly. She let go of her daughter's mouth and took her hand instead.

  Vaier watched Praeis carefully, trying to interpret the ridges in her skin and the set of her ears. “For stability, and to buy time for the Human investigation, we must appear to have joined the dissenters against the Confederation.” Praeis sat absolutely still, a grey-blue statue holding her daughter's hand. “We must play at assembling an invasion of the Getesaph archipelago, and we must ask you to assume the lead of this deception.”

  A look somewhere between surprise and horror crossed Praeis's face before she could compose herself.

  “Your expertise at logistics, along with the fact that it is your daughter and sister who are endangered make you the logical choice. We ourselves know your loyalty to us better than anyone out there.” She jerked her chin contemptuously toward the outer wall.

  The folds in Praeis's face tightened. “Then there will be no real rescue? No search?” As Praeis spoke, her daughter's mouth opened as she began to pant.

  “Of course there will,” said Vaier with a touch of indignation. “But surely you see that the Humans can do a better, faster job of it than any of us. You must give them time to do it.” She let her face stiffen. “If we lose control, there will be an invasion in earnest, and what will the Humans do then? What will the rest of the Confederation do?”

  Praeis sat still again with just the tips of her ears quivering. Her daughter looked up at her with wide, miserable eyes.

  “I understand,” said Praeis. “But, Majestic Sisters, after Urisk Island, who will willingly follow me?”

  Aires's ears wiggled. “Noblest Sister, the mood against the Getesaph is so heated, our sisters would follow a thrown stone into battle.”

  Praeis's ears crumbled, but her voice remained steady. “I will do as I am ordered, Majestic Sisters.”

  “Good,” Vaier dipped her ears toward Praeis approvingly. “You will be officially summoned to duty this afternoon and moved to a headquarters. You will need to give thought to who you will want to pick as your Group Mothers.”

  “Then I have much to do. With your permission.” Praeis lifted the palm of one hand, and Vaier dipped her ears again.

  Praeis stood, still holding her daughter's hand. The daughter, obviously dazed by what had been said, stood with her.

  “Whatever else comes of this, we will arrange that all your second-children be proudly fathered,” said Vaier. “Your daughters shall have that written in our names.”

  “Thank you, Majestic Sister,” murmured Praeis. She closed her eyes and raised her free hand respectfully before she turned and walked in a measured step through the door.

  “She'll do it,” said Aires like a sigh of relief once the door was firmly closed.

  “Of course she will,” snorted Ueani. “Was she not just bribed and flattered like a father's family? What moved your will, Vaier?”

  Vaier stood up and walked four swift paces to her lesser-named sister. She grasped Ueani's chin hard, as if she were a misbehaving child.

  “At the moment this solitary nature serves us, but without a little kindness she might just turn against us.” She watched the ripples in Ueani's face as that thought sank in. “Unstable, abandoned by her family and by her Queens, who will she turn to? What will she do? Do you want to find out?”

  “No, Sister,” muttered Ueani.

  Vaier released her. “We are agreed in this, then.”

  “Yes.” Aires stood up. “Now, let us cad our Wise Sisters back in. They will, I think, be pleased to hear what we have to say.”

  David looked around the hospital room with a sense of relief and homecoming. It could not have been more different from the hell he'd left that morning. This was a large open area that smelled of fresh air. The openness was disconcerting for him, but more comfortable for the Dedelphi who had to stay there. At least a hundred beds waited in tidy rows. Each was enclosed in filter polymers that would let in light and air and let out sound and scent, but would trap any microbes in their carefully kinked and twisted pores.

  The waldos an
d jobbers attached to each bed to take care of the patient's needs had soft, warm hands and arms. They were covered with matte organics that could be easily sterilized to ready the bed for a new occupant. There were even thin gloves built into the sides of the isolation boxes, so a sister or daughter could reach in and hold the patient's hand.

  He set his portable down on one of the counters. We might actually be able to save a few people here, he thought.

  He didn't actually come on duty until the main evacu… relocation started. Everybody else was, sensibly, relaxing in their new apartments. He had invitations for drinks and dinner he was really looking forward to. But first he had wanted to see the hospital. He wanted some reassurance that the cycle of anger and depression at the facilities he had to work with would be broken.

  “Dr. David Zelotes?” called a voice from the other end of the room.

  David turned and saw Captain Elisabeth Esmaraude standing in the hatchway. He recognized her easily from the landing ceremony when she'd stood up in front of them in the city and welcomed them all to the Ur. She'd sounded like a wind-up doll, and she seemed to know it, but she also seemed to be trying to bear it in good humor.

  “Yes, Captain?” David walked toward her.

  She looked him up and down through her old-fashioned spectacles. David wondered what she thought she'd see. “Have you got a minute?”

  “Yes, certainly, Captain,” said David. “I was just looking around.” What's so important you had to come down here personally?

  “Good. If you'll just come with me.” She stepped out into the corridor and led him to an unused conference room. His mind ran over possibilities. Maybe she wanted to discuss emergency procedures, or quarantine precautions, or the possibility of transmission from the sick to the healthy populations of the city-ship. Maybe it was about the possibility of viral infection among the Human crew.

  Captain Esmaraude sat in one of the stiff chairs around the table and gestured for him to take the one next to her. He did.

  “What can I help you with, Captain?” David folded his hands and tried to look ready for anything.

  Captain Esmaraude looked at the floor. “I have just had a message from Commander Enrique Keale of Corporate Security.” She glanced up, and back down again. “Dr. Lynn Nussbaumer is missing.”

  “I'm sorry?” said David. He'd heard her say something about Lynn, but…

  She looked up. Her brown eyes were worried behind her spectacles. “Dr. Lynn Nussbaumer is missing. No one on her staff has seen or heard from her for over twenty-six hours.”

  David sat there, doing nothing but listen to his heart hammer against his ribs. Lynn missing in the Hundred Isles. He had spoken to her two days ago, and then she'd gone missing and he hadn't known…

  “What are they doing about it?” he heard himself ask.

  “Keale's got a search going on. They're interviewing everybody they can find, doing flyovers, combing the threads, everything possible.”

  Lynn? It was ridiculous. He should know where she was. He should have felt that something was wrong. He shouldn't have just been going about his job, moving into his new apartment, worrying about lab facilities and…

  “Dr. Zelotes?” said Captain Esmaraude gently. “I've known Kaye—Commander Keale—for years. He's very good at what he does. He will not let them keep her.”

  David's hands opened and closed reflexively. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to lash out, pound the table, holler at the top of his lungs. He wanted to cry. He wanted to storm out to the hangar and demand a shuttle back to the planet immediately. He wanted to tear the Hundred Isles apart with his bare hands until they told him where she was.

  Lynn.

  “Commander Keale wants to ask you some questions. I told him I'd go get you. Do you feel up to talking?”

  “Yes,” David lied, and got to his feet. He couldn't see straight. His heart raced out of control, but at the same time he felt thick and stupid. Shock, probably. It would wear off in a while, he assured himself distantly.

  Captain Esmaraude also stood. “Kaye will find her, Dr. Zelotes.”

  David lifted his gaze and focused on her. He didn't know what his expression was, but he watched Esmaraude's ruddy face turn pale as she looked at him.

  When he did speak, his voice was nothing more than a harsh whisper. “He has to.”

  Chapter XII

  Lynn blinked heavily. She was sitting up. The chair felt hard under her thighs and back. She lifted her head. The world outside her left eye was a blur of color. She squinted. Her right eye saw a bare, concrete room and four pinkish grey Dedelphi. Getesaph, or near family to the Getesaph. After another few seconds she could see the deep blue clothing they all wore was military issue. These four were soldiers. She looked down and saw the bands that clamped her forearms to the chair arms.

  “Record,” she subvocalized to her implant.

  Their faces looked wrong. Lynn blinked again. All four of them wore bulbous filter masks over their mouths and noses. Two of them had gun belts around their waists.

  What… ?

  One of the four glanced toward her and saw she was awake. Lynn tried to speak in a normal voice, but couldn't make her throat work. She swallowed painfully and tried again. Still nothing.

  A second Getesaph walked over to her chair. Gloved hands found the catches on her helmet and lifted it off. Lynn felt suddenly naked.

  “Which eye is your camera?” the Getesaph asked. Her breath steamed against her facemask. Then, Lynn saw the small knife in the soldier's hand.

  Lynn's tongue froze against the roof of her mouth. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She considered lying. She could always get another eye grown, but the information and assistance from her camera were invaluable. She looked at the Getesaph's grey eyes and knew if she told her the wrong thing, she'd just take them both and leave her blind.

  She swallowed, coughed, and managed to croak, “The right.”

  The soldier's hand rose out of her line of vision. A moment later, she felt thick fingers pull her right eyelid open. The curved blade drove straight toward her. The soldier's fist blotted out the room a split second before the scarlet cloud swirled in front of her.

  She felt the blade curve around her eye. It didn't hurt as much as she thought it would. It was the sight of the glistening orb and its trailing ganglia in the soldier's hand that brought the blackness back down on her.

  A voice cut through the swaddling darkness.

  “Lynn? Come on, Lynn. Don't do this to me. Wake up.”

  The words entered her skull, making a counterpoint to the vague pulse of pain in her right temple. She did not want to open her eyes, but couldn't remember why. Her left eye twitched under its lid.

  She remembered. All her muscles contracted until she pulled herself into a little ball, cradling her wounded head in her still-gloved hands.

  “Lynn, stop.” She felt hands and yanked herself away. “You're making it worse. I just got you bandaged up…”

  Arron. What was Arron doing here? Where was here? What was happening?

  She was going to have to open her eyes.

  She forced her hands slowly away from her face. Gritting her teeth, she lifted her eyelids. Light lanced into her left eye. She blinked it hard. Her right lid wriggled limply, brushing a cloth padding that pressed against her cheek and temple. They hadn't cut the eyelid away. For some reason that made her feel better.

  “Lynn?”

  Her working eye saw a pitted, grey cement wall with a blobby shadow falling across it. She lay on a rough cement floor. Her skin prickled against her clean-suit as the cold and an impression of dampness seeped through. Her helmet had been removed. The air around her head and ears was dank and smelled of encroaching mold.

  She licked dry lips with an equally dry tongue. “Arron?”

  He sighed with relief. “Can you sit up?”

  She wanted very much to say no, but instead she tightened her muscles and tried. His hands caught her shoulders and hel
ped her. The world spun. She leaned her head back against the wall and tried to steady her breathing. She kept her eye open. Now that she had her sight back, she didn't want to cut it off.

  She could look around a little better. The cell was solid, unpainted concrete. A metal door with a flap-covered slot in the bottom provided the only way in and out. A metal drain had been sunk in the center of the floor. A metal bucket stood in the corner. That was all her one eye could see.

  She felt Arron sitting at her right side. Gingerly, she reached up and touched the cloth that wrapped her darkness. It was rough, ragged, and warm. The tang of salt and iron filtered through her nostrils.

  “Why'd they …” Arron's hand flicked into her line of sight as he gestured at her.

  “Cut out my camera.” Her throat felt like she'd swallowed a river of sand. “Is there anything to drink?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  She relaxed her neck and let her head turn toward him. He had drawn his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. One sleeve of his shirt had been ripped off at the shoulder, and she knew where her bandage had come from. He still had his helmet on. Hers lay next to him. A thin milky film filled the creases of the clean-suit around his elbows and knees.

  Age marks. The clean-suit's organics had about three days of life in them. After that, they dried out and cracked open. Lynn raised her hand and flexed her fingers. A spider-web of white lines creased her palm and fingers.

  “Marvelous,” she muttered, and let her head rest against the wall.

  “I don't understand.” Arron spoke to the door. “I don't understand how they could do this.”

  “Somebody's obviously decided that there's something more important than saving the world, and we got in the way.” Lynn shifted herself gently so she could press more of her back against the wall. “It'll be okay. Trace and R.J. will have already missed me. They'll have Commander Keale and his people out looking for us. We just have to wait it out.”

  “I hope they find us before anybody else does.” Arron flexed his hand the way Lynn had and watched more white lines form and spread. “We're both going to be biohazards before long.”