by A. A. Ripley
IN
BETWEEN
THE
STARS
A. A. Ripley
Copyright © 2018 A. A. Ripley
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Cover design based on original illustration by Wakami10 (Sofya Khlopchenko) at https://wakami10.tumblr.com
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
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For my partner, the maker of small miracles.
The book was old. Its pages were yellowish and fragile, frayed with the strain of many talons turning them. It smelled of dust and age. Inan touched them with care, trying with all her might not to damage it. It was beautiful, it was mysterious. The solar systems sprawled from its pages, all in shimmering blues and golds. The gas giants rotated slowly, carrying their moons in constant, majestic dance. The stars emanated their radiance in all colours of the space rainbow. There were blue and red giants, yellow and white dwarfs and dark black holes. The flickering light of a plasma lamp on her work-table made the illusion of the movement so real. Inan traced the trajectories with her talon, traversing light years in the span of seconds. The announcing bell by the doors startled her. She was sure it was one of the supervising Mothers that had spotted her lamp burning deep into the night. She grasped a horn-cover from the back of her chair and covered the book. She took a deep breath before she answered.
‘Come,’ she said, already preparing an excuse as to why she was reading a book about space.
‘Miss Inan?’
Inan let go of the breath she was holding. It was only Saa standing at the door, holding a small light-and-heat. He had his eyes cast down and covered with his hand, so as not to look her directly in the eyes by accident. Inan smiled slightly. Saa, always so proper, always sticking to the Codex.
‘What is it?’ she said. ‘It is late.’
‘I will beg for forgiveness, Miss. I carry a message from the Matriarch. She, whose horns guard us, wishes to see you.’
‘The Matriarch?’ Inan thought that she might have learned about her reading books about space, but then she wouldn’t be calling her this late, would she? Besides, that kind of infraction would be dealt with in public so that it was an example to other young members of the House Skoss. No, it had to be something different.
‘Did she say why?’
‘No, Miss. She did not.’
Inan looked longingly at the book under her old horn-cover. The mysteries of the universe would have to wait.
She grabbed a clean cloth from her dresser and wiped her horns and face scales. Even in the middle of the night there was no excuse to visit the Matriarch looking shabby. She put on her horn-cover too; no need to hide the book before the old servitor.
‘Let’s not keep the Matriarch waiting any more, Saa.’
‘Yes, Miss, let us go.’
*
The house was asleep and silent. The complex where Inan had spent her whole life seemed so alien during the night, like abandoned ruins. There was no sound to be heard except their footsteps. Touched by the light of the light-and-heat, the murals were looking strange, almost otherworldly. The eyes and talons of the izara long-dead were painted with fluorescent tint, the greenish glow following them as they walked. The air was cool, like the ghost of Year’s Incline just passed.
The door to the Matriarch’s quarters was old, beautifully carved and imposing. Inan remembered the times she stood before them as a hatchling. The Mothers used to send them here when they got especially wild. Being sent to the Matriarch was the ultimate punishment and they dreaded it more than anything. The Matriarch never hissed at them, never lashed her tail, but they would rather be doing extra chores for a week than face the stare of her only eye. ‘She lost it saving a hatchling from a fire,’ some young would say. ‘No, she lost it fighting wild toothrok barehanded!’ some disagreed, while the rest listened in fearful awe. The stories of Matriarch Salrran had no end.
Inan shook off the memories. She was no hatchling anymore. There was nothing the Matriarch would need to punish her for, nothing warranting a night call. There was no reason for her to fear the Matriarch.
‘I will wait for you here, Miss Inan.’
‘No need, just leave the light-and-heat,’ Inan said. ‘Go to sleep, Saa. Calm night to you.’
‘Calm night, Miss.’
Saa disappeared in the dark corridor, leaving Inan alone before the great door.
She shook the announcing bell.
‘Come,’ a steady voice called from within.
‘Mother of my Mothers?’ Inan said, bowing her head as she entered.
Each time Inan saw Matriarch Salrran, she wondered how old the elderly female could really be. Her horns were thick and curving over themselves, but her scales were still lustrous. Folds of loose skin were gathering around her eyes, but her talons were unsplintered and strong. Right now she was sitting at her work-console, back straight, the chair slightly pulled away, as though she had just finished working with her computer. The screens were dark, giving just the afterglow. Only two plasma lamps were alight, shining with calm steady radiance. The air was filled with the scent of the swamp incense bush in a heavy pot in the middle of the room.
‘Ah, my kin,’ said the Matriarch. ‘I have splendid news, and you are entitled to hear first.’ Relieved that the Matriarch was actually glad to see her, Inan approached the old female.
‘Sit; stretch your legs and tail,’ said the Matriarch, motioning her to come forward.
Inan unfolded one of the side tabourets and sat down, the tail neatly folded in her lap.
The Matriarch rose from her chair, straightened her clothes and brought up a side-display. It came to life under the Matriarch’s touch and Inan saw a planet slowly rotating on a backdrop of black space, like a piece of unpolished, semi-precious stone. It was greyish and blue, mountainous, covered in billowing clouds.
The Matriarch looked at her for a split second, as though she was considering something, her eye unblinking. ‘Tell me, Inan, have you ever heard of Aldass?’
‘No, Matriarch.’
‘They are a colonist House. One of our most recent and first of this planet. It is called Derrar.’
‘They were houseless before, then?’
‘Yes, but now they are a House of first generation, led by Matriarch Asnir, formerly of a House so little known I do not need to mention it. Aldass’ assets lie in their mines and refineries of astarium. I am sure I do not have to explain why cooperation with them would bring substantial profits.’
Inan searched her memory for a moment. Wasn’t astarium used in interstellar travel? Yes, it was. It was used i
n the engine parts and navig consoles. It was scarce and its trading strictly controlled. It was definitely a lucrative market, every properly-schooled hatchling could tell that.
‘I have just finished the negotiation for a very profitable and prestigious deal, my child. This will bring us a considerable income as well as discounts and savings.’
‘But surely that is information for the Treasurer and Economist; why are you speaking to me instead of them?’
‘Ah, Inan, I was just coming to that point.’ The Matriarch paused for a moment, as though she was especially pleased with the next part and wanted to savour it.
The Matriarch touched the controls again and the picture on the screen changed. Inan saw a young male. He was pleasant-looking, with scales of a shining bronze colour and horns filed short. He was dressed cleanly and simply, his clothes made with the addition of fine metallic fibre. His only adornment was a well-made serpentine collar, laser-cut so precisely it almost seemed like a pattern etched in his own scales.
‘Voraa Aldass-a,’ said the Matriarch, ‘Asnir’s eldest and, as part of our deal, your husband-to-be.’
Inan sat in stunned silence. A strange feeling came over her, as though she was eavesdropping on the adults discussing a distant relative, instead of her own fate, her consciousness relegated to that of a hatchling, frozen in the sight of the head of the family, unable to say or do anything.
‘But…’ she managed to excavate a single word.
‘Come, Inan, it is not as though we did not prepare you for that day. Asnir has no daughters, so that puts you in the great position of succeeding her when the time comes. It is more than you could ever hope to achieve within our House.’
‘But it is so sudden!’ said Inan, finally finding her voice. ‘And Matriarch, a husband? My horns are still white! What if…’
She was not going to say it, not to the Matriarch at least. She sat there observing her tail twitch in embarrassment as if suddenly it had become a beast of its very own. She must have been bright green by now, too.
‘Do not be absurd, the Aldass are not barbarians! You will not be required to lay eggs before your time,’ said Salrran, her tone so matter of fact it sounded like a lecture.
‘Yes, Matriarch.’ She barely could hear herself whisper.
‘I know that it is a lot to take in at once,’ said Salrran as she started pacing slowly around the potted plant, ‘but I didn’t want to raise anybody’s hopes until it was final.’
Inan opened her mouth to say something, but then it struck her. She was behaving appallingly! She jumped to her feet, bowing her head so low she could see only the plaid patterns of the floor.
‘I will beg your forgiveness, Mother of my Mothers,’ Inan said quickly. ‘I give thanks for your concern for me, and promise not to squander the honour. I will bring prosperity, I promise!’
‘Raise your head, Inan Skoss-ar,’ said the Matriarch. ‘I do not doubt you. I admit I brought it suddenly and I brought it early but it will end well. This is my promise to you.’
Inan raised her head and looked the older female in the eye. A matriarch’s promise is as strong as the House itself; it holds value like money does and Inan’s hope clung to it desperately.
‘You should rest now,’ said Salrran finally. ‘Calm night, Inan.’
‘Calm night, Matriarch,’ said Inan as she was leaving.
Inan walked the corridors of the house as though in a dream. She remembered to take the light-and-heat from the corridor outside the Matriarch’s door, but she couldn’t recall how she got back to her quarters.
*
She looked around her room as though she saw it for the first time. She had lived here since she was too old for the nursery, but now it seemed to her different, somehow. All the furniture she used every day seemed changed. Her dresser, her work-table, her comfy corner full of soft, hand-moulded tabourets and the tray full of fine, heated-up sand to lounge on; all became unfamiliar as though they belonged to a stranger. Inan touched the collection she was so fond of. She ran her finger along books in their racks, visual and audio crystals in their boxes, along the display of her collars and horn rings. All those objects were the same as they were a day or two ago. It was she that was different. Soon she would change even more. She would no longer be Inan Skoss-ar, a daughter of the house. She would become Inan Aldass-ar, a wife and a matriarch’s heir. The very thought of it made her shudder with anxiety of the unknown, her stomach twisting itself into a foreign mass. She approached her work-table, the ancient book still open. She reached out and closed it. It was grey outside when Inan finally buried herself in her bedding, keeping Salrran’s promise close to her thoughts.
*
She didn’t wake up until morning. The garden outside her window was splashed with sunlight. The yellow star of the homeworld shone straight down at her from the ceiling-slits, spreading its warmth over her scales. The ceiling-slits were an ancient feature of the complex, designed to measure and tell time. And the slits in Inan’s room were telling her that it was really late.
Her own computer was synchronised to the House mainframe, but she hadn’t placed an alarm with it or with her personal mobile platform. Inan groaned. She would have to get up right now if she wanted to get anything to eat.
Just before she entered the common areas she hesitated. News travelled fast within the House, even faster within a single complex. The izara in the commons would probably know about everything by now. What should she say when they ask?
She stuck her head in the doorway. The commons were empty. The first meal of the day was over, the adults gone out to their workstations, youngsters gone to prepare for classes and chores. Inan was relieved she didn’t have to talk to anybody just yet.
The large bowls of freshly-cooked broth were still in their places; the servitors hadn’t had the time to clear them away just yet. Inan put some broth into a bowl and added a few pieces of meat. She moved a tabouret to the spot under the great stained-glass ceiling where the focused sunrays heated up the stone floor to a pleasant temperature. She ate briskly, thinking about what to do next. She couldn’t hide for the whole day, but maybe for a little bit more. She would skip today’s classes, go into the gardens to a spot where the soft fruit might be already ripe. She would climb the tree and pick at the fuzzy, lilac globes, hoping that one of them would be good to eat. She just needed to find some digestion stones so she wouldn’t get sick eating plant matter…
‘Inan!’
She jumped up, startled, almost dropping her bowl.
‘Be quiet, Ifonly! Do you want the servitors to snitch to Mother Teacher on us?’
Inan regained her balance and looked behind her. In the doorway, in the same place she had been peering into the room just a few minutes ago, stood two izara young, her age. Not many izara females could boast a clutch-sister, as only one hatchling in five was female. Inan was no exception, but she had a female cousin born the same year. Kanst was already called “Little Matriarch” by all the hatchlings and she took the air of one now while scolding her clutch-brother. Her clutch-brother, Ifonly, was not really called that but no one called him by his real name. He had earned this nickname because the Mother Teachers were always repeating that he could be anything, a peace-enforcer, a cybernetic technician, even a spacer, if only he’d worked harder, if only he’d paid attention. Some Mother Teachers went as far as predicting his becoming houseless, only fit to be engaged in hard labour.
‘Relax, Kanst,’ said Ifonly. ‘We can always say Inan fell into the pit of tree squeakers and we had to rescue her.’
Inan laughed.
‘And what would I be doing with garden pest-control creatures?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know, maybe telling them all about how it feels being a future Heir?’ said Ifonly, and went to pour himself some broth as if he was commenting on food instead of asking a loaded question.
They know! thought Inan. But of course they knew. Yet they were so calm, as though this was any other day, as though nothing had changed at all.
Meanwhile Kanst took a tabouret and sat next to Inan, eyeing her intensely. Inan felt as if she was the last piece of meat left at the feast table.
‘Why are you looking at me like that, Kanst?’
‘I wonder,’ she said with a scowl, ‘what made the Matriarch choose you, of all eligible females? She should have chosen somebody more suitable.’
‘Meaning you,’ said Ifonly, coming back to them with a bowl.
‘Certainly not! I was merely pointing out that a newly-found House does not need a dreamer who spends her time reading. They need somebody intelligent and competent—’
‘Still meaning you,’ interrupted Ifonly.
‘Stop being a hatchling, Ifonly. What I’m saying is—’
‘Will you stop that, both of you!’ Inan erupted. ‘How can you be so calm? I am leaving, and soon. And then…’
And then they would never see each other again. As Heir she wouldn’t be able even to visit, too busy preparing to be a future Matriarch.
‘Yes, but you’re leaving off-planet. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted?’ said Ifonly. ‘Besides, I can only gain from it.’
‘How come?’
‘What? I am so terribly hurt!’ Ifonly pretended he was falling to the ground, his tail coiled around his torso and an expression of disappointment on his face. ‘Are you telling me you won’t find me a place in this new House of yours? You wouldn’t allow your best cousin to work houseless, would you?’
‘You wouldn’t have to worry about that if only you wanted to do better,’ said Kanst. ‘Besides, Inan will have more important matters to worry about than one slacker, right, Inan?’
But Inan wasn’t listening to her cousin. It dawned on her how lucky she was. She would get to travel, to leave beyond Sethen’s lilac sky and live on a different planet – alien and strange, full of bizarre creatures and weird plants. It would be filled with new sounds and smells unlike anything here.