Tales from Ardulum

by J. S. Fields

Is one of those things me?

  It seemed like a really silly question. It wasn’t as if sex was some taboo subject in the palace, and no one expected the palace gatois to be celibate while in training, but they weren’t supposed to be kissing each other. Still, Ekimet couldn’t deny that the notion lit a fire in zir insides that began to spread outward, reaching zir fingertips and leaving a trembling in its wake.

  I’ve not done much, but if you wanted to, we could, Ekimet added. Do you want to go back to your room? Is that what you want?

  A smile ghosted across Savath’s face. “I do—especially with you—but that’s not the point.”

  Ekimet crossed zir arms. “Then, what is the point? You just kissed me, Savath, and we’re both sweating because of it. Is this another rebellion to keep me here? Another haircut?” Zie scoffed. “Little acts of treason aren’t enough.”

  Savath’s eyes flicked from Ekimet to the floor and back again. “It was silly,” zie mumbled. “I’m sorry, Ekimet.”

  I didn’t say I didn’t like it, Ekimet admitted after a moment.

  Although Savath’s head was still lowered, Ekimet could see mischief hop back into Savath’s eyes. “We could do more,” Savath whispered. “The bedroom, the foundry, the kitchens. You let this place be a coffin and it becomes one. We don’t get to make choices here, but a few extra activities to keep us happy, to keep us ‘under control’? No one would mind.”

  Except, if that were true, why bother having rules at all? Ekimet didn’t buy it. The gatoi training program at the palace was notoriously restrictive. You got the best jobs available when you got out, but it was at the expense of your entire second don. It was not a program one went into lightly, and flippant behavior was not tolerated.

  “If no one cares, why did you follow me to the kitchen?” Ekimet asked.

  Savath put a hand on Ekimet’s knee—tentatively. Ekimet smiled and covered it with zir own. “Because I’ve never seen a gatoi here break a rule. I did, once, my first year. I’d never seen the Eld so mad.”

  Ekimet leaned in. “What did you do?”

  Savath smiled and tapped a finger to zir lips. “What started as a greeting lingered a little too long. By accident, that time. I didn’t realize how different it would be, kissing another gatoi. The world suddenly made sense.”

  Ekimet’s insides twisted. Gatois didn’t make families with other gatois. Ekimet wasn’t even sure two gatois could produce children on their own. They were a spice, not a primary ingredient. Zie could easily imagine how the other student had reacted. How the Eld had reacted.

  “Did you love zir?” Ekimet asked.

  “Oh, no.” Savath shook zir head and chortled. “It was an experience, and one I didn’t bother replicating.”

  Ekimet raised an eyebrow. “Until now. The cinnamon go to your head?”

  “I think we’re a lot alike.”

  That made Ekimet pause. Were they? Or, was this just late-night euphoria brought on by shared secrets and petty theft? And if Ekimet stayed, would there be more lips and wandering hands and late-night strolls to beds in unoccupied rooms?

  Ekimet felt lightheaded, but that was probably because zie hadn’t taken a breath in a long time. Zie inhaled heavily, letting the cool night air clear zir head.

  “We could get kicked out for what you’re suggesting.”

  “You want to leave anyway.”

  Ekimet nodded. “Point. But you want to stay.”

  Savath squeezed Ekimet’s knee, sending warmth flooding between Ekimet’s legs. “We won’t be kicked out, Eki.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Because the Eld are shopping.”

  “For not mateable gatoi?” If Savath was going to be willfully obtuse, then Ekimet would pry answers from Savath zirself. Zie moved zir hand onto Savath’s thigh and slid it up to zir hip. Savath’s breath caught. Ekimet’s heart pounded.

  “Are we trying to see how tight those boundaries are?” Ekimet whispered.

  “Some…something like that.” Savath scooted closer, forcing Ekimet’s hand to slide inwards. “They have some secret—the Eld—and I want it. There hasn’t been a gatoi eld in four years. That’s why the Eld keep us so penned up now. That’s why we’re not getting regular assignments until we’re third don.”

  That surprised Ekimet enough that zie dropped zir hand away. Savath let out a long sigh, but Ekimet barely registered it. “They’re keeping us penned in case we manifest another Talent in our third don? You think one of us will be the new gatoi eld? From our cohort?”

  Savath rubbed zir red cheeks. “I think that’s the elds’ plan, yes.”

  Ekimet looked incredulously at Savath. “But it’s not going to be either of us, surely! Look! I’m stealing desserts, and you’re kissing me in the kitchen. I’m an entire decade away from my third don, and you’ve only been here a year longer than me. There are thirteen gatoi moving into third don next month. Why would Ardulum go nine or ten years without the full triarchy just to elevate Ardulans who don’t even want to be here?”

  Savath didn’t seem to hear zir at all. “Do you have weird dreams, Eki?”

  “Weirder than you’re acting now? You know I do. We’ve talked about them. It’s why I don’t sleep well. You have them, too.”

  Savath nodded. “You know that no one else does?”

  Ekimet brushed zir hand across the countertop. “I don’t believe that. Everyone gets weird dreams sometimes.” Zie stood, the last of the heat fading from zir face, zir heartbeat returning to its usual pitter-patter. Zie rotated one ankle and then the other, trying to get the pinpricks of inactivity to go away. “This is ridiculous. You want to press Eld buttons, or even just—” Zie pointed in the direction of the gatoi apartments. “—have some private discussions, then okay. But the best we can both hope for is an off-world assignment where they let us cut our own vegetables. I have no idea what you’re trying to imply right now. I think we should go back to bed.”

  Ekimet expected a retort, or an abrupt change in conversation, but Savath just stared at zir, brown eyes unblinking.

  “Argh! Do you want to go walking to the ship pads, then?” Ekimet tried. Getting out of the kitchens, away from Savath’s stare, seemed really important all of a sudden. “Some Mmnnuggls are visiting. Their ships are pretty neat.”

  “Be my friend, Ekimet.”

  Savath didn’t ask it like a question, which was probably for the best because they weren’t first dons and it would have been a juvenile question even at that age.

  “I am your friend.” Ekimet pulled Savath to zir feet and dragged zir out the back door of the kitchens and into the small andal garden. Zie purposefully did not look back at Savath’s face. “Let’s go look at ships.”

  “I was thinking of a different kind of friendship.”

  Ekimet stopped and spun around. Zie was tired of the meandering, obfuscated conversation. Savath needed to get to the point. “Savath, if you want to be lovers—”

  “No.” Savath released Ekimet’s hand and pulled at one of the andal saplings, curving it down until the apical shoot was right at their noses. “This isn’t about that. I mean, it is, partially, but it’s about… I don’t think Ardulum is supposed to be like this, Ekimet.”

  Ekimet looked around at the thin saplings covered in dimly lit, green leaves, at the four moons overhead, and the rise of purple-black pods just beyond. Savath let the andal go, and it sprang back into place, its leaves scratching against one another.

  “What else would it be like?” Ekimet asked. “This is how Ardulum is.”

  Savath shook zir head. “I don’t think it has to be.”

  “You think us making out is going to change our planet? Are you drunk?”

  Savath winked at zir. A smirk crept up at the corner of zir mouth. Warmth came back to Ekimet’s face. “Come on. One more year. Stay here with me. I’ll get you into the foundry. I’ll get you a job with the cooks. I’ll even give you my day passes. Just stay.”

  “Wherever you got
the fermented andal you are clearly on, I want some. Also, why? Why shouldn’t I just get on one of the Mmnnuggl ships and let them fly me off Ardulum and out of this system?” Ekimet’s chest felt tight, almost like they were having a real, productive argument, instead of this inane whatever. Zie wanted to push Savath, or kiss zir, or just turn and run as far as zie could from the palace before the Eld found zir and brought zir back. “Savath, we’re just waiting here. It’s stupid.”

  Savath took zir hands. They faced each other, their noses centimeters apart. Ekimet could smell Savath’s breath, could feel the heat coming from zir body. Zie swallowed against zir tightening throat, trying to match the intensity with which Savath’s eyes bored into zirs.

  “Ardulum is going to change, Ekimet.” Savath’s voice trembled. “I see it in my dreams.”

  “Maybe you’re eating too much of that fermented andal.”

  Savath pushed into Ekimet’s body, melding their hips together, bringing zir mouth way too close to Ekimet’s ear. Ekimet felt dizzy. Drunk. Almost dangerous, like Savath was telepathically sharing zir delusion.

  “We’re a part of that change,” Savath breathed.

  “We’re just gatoi,” Ekimet said, but zie didn’t back away. Stepping back would be a torture zie couldn’t endure. Wherever this conversation was headed, Ekimet no longer cared. All that mattered was being here, close to Savath.

  “Stay, and I promise I will get you a real assignment, not an apprenticeship, before your third don. Stay, and I promise I will tell you every Eld secret I know, every andal whisper I hear. Stay and help me force these Eld to look at us as more than pretty attendants. You and I are not just gatoi.”

  They could melt together into the same person. Ekimet was sure of it. The evening was chilly, but the cold breeze was powerless against the warmth of Savath’s skin on zirs. “What are we?” Ekimet asked. Zie cared, suddenly, about the answer.

  Savath giggled, zir torso pushing into Ekimet’s. Zie couldn’t help but join in, and a moment later, they were laughing and hugging. Savath’s mouth found Ekimet’s again, briefly, before Ekimet pulled them apart.

  “Help me?” Savath entreated. “Stay.”

  What are we? Ekimet asked again. I’ll stay for you, but Savath, what is this all about?

  I don’t know, Savath responded. But we don’t have a gatoi eld, and there’s got to be a reason for that.

  Ekimet raised an eyebrow. So, we’re going to…what? Break apart this palace and get some answers?

  Savath grinned, and for a moment, the way the moonlight hit zir silver robes made them look near gold. Ekimet shivered.

  You in?

  Ekimet nodded, took Savath’s hand, and leaned into the taller gatoi. This wasn’t at all how zie had thought zie would spend zir second don, but being this close to Savath settled the faint rustling in Ekimet’s head that often came after a night of bad dreams. Maybe the Eld were plotting something. Maybe Savath was just bored. Ekimet didn’t care. It was just really nice to have a…a friend. Or whatever.

  Yes, I’m in. And I suggest we start with the rest of the cinnamon andal because raiding the library or whatever you have in mind will be a lot more fun on a full stomach.

  Youth Journey

  2059 CE

  “Nicholas St. John?”

  “Present!” Nicholas jumped up from the plastic bench that circled the inside of the Journey office on Corieus, the third planet of the Minoran System. Squeezed into the room with him were some seventy fresh-faced Terran youths, all of whom had arrived that day for placement.

  Nicholas stumbled, accidentally stepping on the feet of the larger boy next to him. The boy frowned at him, but Nicholas wrinkled his nose and didn’t even try to fight his smile. He was here. He was doing it, really going on Journey! He was eighteen—legally an adult—and he was off his planet, outside his solar system, and he was going to talk to aliens! He was going to work for aliens!

  Earth had joined the Charted Systems back in 2020, but Youth Journey hadn’t been officialized until 2025, so his parents had never gotten a chance to go. Nicholas had spent the past few years watching friends and family leave Earth. They had adventures and otherworldly experiences and came home two years later as completely different people, full of stories and languages and ideas. There were no storybook adventures anymore—not like the kind he’d read as a kid that had pirates or musketeers or epic space battles—because the Systems were at peace, but Youth Journey was better because it was his journey. His adventure.

  Finally, it was time for Nicholas to be an adult.

  “St. John! You listening?”

  Nicholas straightened his back and nodded. The large being that clopped towards him was a quadruped native to the Minoran System with the elongated torso and gray hair common to those from Corieus. He looked like a centaur, or maybe closer to if a centaur and a horse had offspring. Was that a thing? The anatomy probably lined up right, but there was a lot more torso on a centaur. So, if the horse was a female and had to carry the baby…

  “St. John!” The Minoran stomped his back hoof.

  “Sorry, sir!” Nicholas bit his lower lip and clasped his hands behind his back. “I was just thinking about biology.”

  “I’m sure. You’ve got an interview. Room eighteen. Law firm on Risal, per your mother’s written request.” The Minoran tossed a rolled-up biofilm at Nicholas, which he caught, hastily unrolled, and read.

  Law Offices of Jak, Run, and Wer. Specializing in historic accounting law, religious disputes, and space travel violations. Seeking full-time Journey youth for filing, courier work, note taking, and research. No gender preference. All-species lavatories available. Paid.

  Nicholas let out a heavy sigh. “Is there anything else?”

  The Minoran twitched an ear. “There are plenty of other options, but this is what your mother asked for, and you signed up for it back on Earth. Little late to be changing your mind now, kid. Go do the interview. You can always turn them down.”

  The Minoran turned to the woman who had been sitting next to Nicholas, a Terran with black hair that was long on one side and shaved on the other. She wore the same green coveralls Nicholas did, with the word YOUTH embroidered on the right side. They’d been chatting only moments ago about their plans. Her name was Watchara, Nicholas remembered. Her skin was a warm, tawny brown, and she had soft features and wide eyes. Definitely pretty. He’d never tell her that.

  “Watchara Eka, you have an interview with a tramp transport. Room seventeen. Go, both of you. I’ve got seventy more Terrans to get through, and you’re wasting their time.”

  Watchara stood, but Nicholas barely paid attention as she moved towards the numbered offices. Law. It made his mouth feel dry. It made his lip curl. He was good at law, but it just didn’t seem very…something. Very romantic? Very…adventurous? Besides, law wasn’t the only thing he was good at. He knew about cellulose tech, too, and microbiology, and all the weird physics that went on with space travel, but his mom wanted him tucked away. Probably requested Risal in the hopes that he wouldn’t come home with a hundred new curse words in alien languages like his sister, Hayley, or with a taste for live insects like his cousin.

  “You coming?”

  “Huh?”

  Watchara had doubled back for him, hands on her narrow hips, wrinkling the coveralls. She had calluses on her knuckles. Nicholas looked at his own hands. The skin was more of an umber brown, but it was smooth and unblemished. No wonder she got tramp transport and he got law. His hands were wide and his fingers long, but they were made for books, not ships. Besides, tramp transport probably didn’t pay well. Anything on Risal was sure to come with a solid paycheck.

  Watchara’s fingers snapped in front of his face. Nicholas blinked. “Sorry. I daydream. I’m ready.”

  “Good, because you’re going to make us late. Not a good first impression, you know?” She grabbed Nicholas by the shoulder and hauled him through the bioplastic double doors and into the hall of offices. They’d been i
n the round receiving room of the Youth Journey Regional Office for close to two hours, but Nicholas had seen nothing except said room and the biped bathroom. All the surfaces had looked sterile and beige, with the Youth Journey logo painted in green across any space long enough to house it. He hadn’t gotten to see any aliens, either, since the shuttle he’d been on had gone straight from Earth to Corieus. Well, any aliens except the grumpy Minoran.

  Hopefully, that was about to change. Thus far, Youth Journey wasn’t really living up to its potential, which meant Nicholas wasn’t either.

  It wasn’t until the doors to the receiving room closed, blocking out the sounds of chattering Terrans, that Watchara released him. She slowed her pace, and Nicholas matched it as he tried to discern the numbering system on the doors.

  “So, your interview sounds…fun.” Watchara giggled, but the humor didn’t reach her eyes.

  “I guess.” Nicholas tried to put some enthusiasm into the words but couldn’t find any. “Where are you from? United States? I’m from Minnesota. It’s upper Midwest.”

  Watchara turned to look at him. “Yeah, Atlanta, Georgia. Most of the people on our transport were from North America. But, like, you really want to do law? There’s, like, nothing to law about anymore. You’ll be up to your elbows in dusty paper books, I bet, if Risalians even have books. Dream bigger, friend. Tramp transport at least takes you places.”

  Nicholas shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned. “Maybe, but I’m a lot less likely to get space lice with law. Tramp transport? Did you request that?”

  Watchara shrugged. They hit the first L-junction, where the doors began to have numbers in Common instead of one of the Minoran languages. Watchara squinted at the sloppy yellow paint. “Naw, just took the first thing that came.” She pointed at the diagonal twenty-two on the first door to their right. “I don’t think that was painted by someone with opposable thumbs.”

  “Does that matter? Is that a thing out in space, whether or not someone has thumbs? Is it like the not wearing shoes thing?”