“But… a hurricane? On Tsera Nova? They were supposed to have…” Vasiht’h waved a hand. “Things. To stop that.”
“Yes, well.” Kristyl’s smile grew mordant. “I guess sometimes when humans try great things, they fail at them.”
At the front of the room, an Asanii in a staff uniform had climbed onto a chair. “All right, everyone! Listen up! I’ve squeezed some messages in and out, and we’ve got a big storm heading our way. It’ll roll right over us… we’re safe in here. So don’t worry about that.” He drew in a deep breath. “Having said that, though… we have less than an hour to check the rest of this island for survivors. People who might have been beached on rafts, or gotten lost, or found a hiding spot good enough for what we’re experiencing now. It’s not going to be good enough for what’s coming our way.” He scanned the silent room. “Technically what I’m about to ask goes against our safety policies, and I shouldn’t be doing it. And you should absolutely not feel obligated to volunteer. But if you’d like to help us canvas the island for stragglers and direct them here….”
Kristyl slid off her chair. “Count me in!” she called over the heads of the others.
“It’ll be dangerous,” the staffer said.
“Really?” she answered, with a tired smile. “I would never have guessed.”
“Ha, right. Not too obvious, is it.” He smiled, wan. “Thank you for volunteering. I’ve got short-range telegems, so you’ll know when you need to make it back, and be able to get directions if you get lost, or be able to report people who are too injured for you to carry.” He paused. “But you’ll need a partner. No one goes out alone in this. Teams, only.”
“I’ll go with her.”
Was that his voice? It was. Vasiht’h finished, “I’ve got a long back. It’s good for carrying people.”
Chapter 13
The protocol for breaks for the exam struck Jahir as old-fashioned, something that might have served his people rather than the technologically-advanced Alliance. All the test-takers were permitted as many as they liked, but they had to be accompanied by the Hinichi to the restroom. Jahir wondered why some less obtrusive method hadn’t been utilized: tracking via cameras, perhaps? But he had found, with interest, that the Pelted were still motivated by tradition, if not as slavishly as the Eldritch were.
He wasn’t sure how far along he was into the second half of the day when he decided to take that break. He wasn’t sure why he wanted one, either, as he had no pressing need. Something about being on the homestretch made him want to pause, so he could truly be present for the ending. So he requested a break, and waited until the Hinichi woman appeared at his desk to stand and follow her from the lecture hall.
“Restroom?” she asked politely.
He began to agree, then thought better of it. “There are other choices?”
She laughed. “Some people just want to sit somewhere and breathe. Or they want to eat. They can’t leave the convention center grounds, of course, so they have to order it delivered here, but there’s no reason not to.”
Did he want to eat? No. But to sit somewhere and breathe… “What would be a good location…”
“To decompress?” She smiled. “I usually take people someplace they can look at the long view. It helps. Perspective, you know?”
“I do,” he said. “And I would like to spend my fifteen minutes thus.”
“This way, then.”
To Jahir’s surprise, they walked toward the terraces. The Hinichi did not lead him to the bridge, though, but made an abrupt turn before it, following the railing along a walkway that formed a sort of connected balcony for the top floor rooms of the convention center. The glass doors leading into them were privacy-darkened, but he imagined the view from inside must be inspiring: the outrageous creativity of the terraces, floating against the Alliance’s premiere resort world? Beautiful.
Their destination was a small platform with a few seats pointed outward, toward the planet. It was tucked behind the corner of the convention center, and the noise from the terraces fell away abruptly, leaving a bubble of calm amid the bustle that stole his breath. Jahir came to a halt at the railing, looking out toward the limitless void. How still it was. His breath felt loud in compare, his heart. How small he felt, and how magnified, for he was here, able to bear witness to the glories of creation. That his people were denied this vision, and for no reason…!
But he was here now. There was time. And what he was about now would be part of that future, because what he was learning, he would need. His shoulders lost their tension, his wrists. His fingers rested soft on the rail, as they might have on the keys of a piano, in the silence before music.
At last he turned away, and said to the Hinichi standing a respectful distance from him, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” she answered, quiet, and began to lead him back.
Refreshed, he followed, and as he did looked toward the terraces… and again, saw the pattern that made no sense, except this time it was so distinct that his hesitation caused the Hinichi to pause, and then stop abruptly. Had he not been following several paces behind, he might have bumped into her.
“What in God’s name!” she whispered, her ears trembling and eyes wide. “That… that shouldn’t exist!”
He followed her gaze past the knots of people pointing and talking excitedly, and found clouds on cloudless Tsera Nova. And not just scattered ones, but an enormous spiral monster.
Right on the ocean, closest to the resort.
“My partner is down there,” he said, without realizing he was going to speak.
“Hopefully they’ve evacuated…”
Hopefully wasn’t good enough. “I need to know.” His tablet was still in the lecture hall with his bag, so he set off for the nearest public terminal. The woman hurried after him.
“Technically you’re not allowed to use any external data sources while outside the testing room,” she said. “But… I’m here, so it’s not like I’m going to miss you looking up any answers.”
He didn’t dignify that with a response, because every screen was showing warning signs and severe weather headers. He ignored them to find a terminal he could query for real-time news. Listened with difficulty, because once again his breathing felt too loud, and his racing heart. ‘Unexpected’ and ‘missing persons’ and ‘catastrophic weather station malfunction.’
He switched directions and headed for the port, walking briskly. His minder fell into step beside him, almost jogging to keep pace. “Where are you going?”
“Down to the surface.”
“I doubt they’ll let you do that!”
“They will have to stop me.”
“The test!” the Hinichi exclaimed. “Is back the other way! If you leave before finishing it, you’ll have to take it all over again!”
He stopped to face her on one of the bridges, where schools of solidigraphic rainbow fish hovered and a world in turmoil turned below. “You would have me abandon my dearest friend to direst peril merely to finish an exam I can retake at some other time.”
She squared her shoulders, her face settling into a mask but her eyes entreating. “Alet, you can’t do anything down there. It’s debatable whether they’ll even let you through. They’ll have rescue personnel—trained people—already at work on the planet. If you go, you’ll just make more work for them.” She pointed. “If you’re going to have to wait it out anyway, why not finish what you started?”
“Because,” Jahir said, quiet, “what I’ve started is not worth finishing, without that piece of my heart whom I have left on that world.”
He kept moving, abandoning her on the bridge.
The activity at the dock was frenzied. Passengers arriving in-system, clotting like arteries as they discovered they could not continue to their destination on the ground; tourists who’d just fled the planet, desperate to depart or angry and demanding refunds; knots of people straining to use the Pads, or wanting to know why they couldn’t use the shu
ttles. Jahir ignored them all, sliding around the crowds or through them, taking the agitating touches when he received them with a composure he knew was possible only because of a link he’d made with an alien who was parted from him now, and should never be. There had been a time such touches would always have incapacitated him. Now, armored in purpose—and fear—he let them glide off him like the water he’d hoped to swim in this evening, at the celebration that should have been waiting for him on Tsera Nova.
A harried-looking Tam-illee foxine stopped him when he neared the Pads and addressed him in rote words of courtesy drawn taut by anxiety. “We’re sorry, alet, no one is allowed to use the Pads except emergency services personnel.”
“I am a healer-assist,” Jahir said, and he drove every moment he’d spent in Heliocentrus into the words, “with experience in trauma wards and acute and critical care.”
Her eyes widened. Would she believe him? He did not flinch from her gaze, but willed her to let him pass… and she did.
“The destination’s preset,” she said. “Ileyspeed, alet.”
“Thank you,” he replied, and strode on.
Was it a lie? It had wanted only paperwork to confer the healer-assist certification on him on Seersana, and if that certification had been for psychiatric care, not physical, still, it counted. As did, he presumed, the exam he had almost finished and left behind. He would have passed that too. None of it mattered, except that he could assist in triage, and Vasiht’h was on planet. And where his partner was, he must be too.
I am on my way, arii. Do you not despair… and I shall not either.
Chapter 14
This is crazy, I’m not a hero, what am I doing out here…
Oh right, I’m keeping Kristyl out of trouble…
Or company…
Or both…
Vasiht’h hunkered against the winds, his side bumping against Kristyl’s hip as they slogged down the path toward the trees where, if their scanner was correct, at least one person was hidden.
Or maybe it’s that I didn’t want to be left alone in there, thinking about how wrong everything can still go, or looking at everyone else and thinking about everything they’ve lost… He glanced at the human, eyes almost completely closed thanks to the rain. He hadn’t asked about Gladiolus. He hadn’t had to. If the Asanii had been among the rescued, she would have been at Kristyl’s side already.
Vasiht’h didn’t have to ask to know why Kristyl was out here.
The human pulled on his arm and pointed, which was easier than shouting through the wind. Vasiht’h nodded and followed her.
Anseahla had storms. The world tended toward wet and tempestuous, and the band where most of the Glaseah lived was semi-tropical, with rainy and dry seasons and all the riotous growth inspired by the heat and humidity. No stations finessed the weather, though when dangerous storms spun up over the oceans, they were dispersed. Vasiht’h didn’t know how that technology worked; it struck him as a terrible omission, that lack of comprehension of something so crucial. If he knew, then someone here would know, and would be doing it to the storm heading their way.
Magical thinking, but what was left to him? Faith, certainly. But faith was a form of magic, one that kept you going when hope was having a panic attack.
Vasiht’h had been caught out in storms, particularly as a child, pelt-drenched and chased home by thunder’s warning whipcracks. He’d thought he’d known storms. Had patted himself on the back for it, even.
The Goddess had a way of teaching the hard-headed. Usually involving sledgehammers. Which is what this wind felt like, when it gusted… like a wall smashing against him. These were only the hurricane’s warning blows, promises of the gales to come. They drove the water against his face and side until his skin was sore with it, and he wondered if he’d bruise under the fur.
His sole consolation was that as a short heavyworlder with four legs that ended in clawed toes, he had an easier time staying planted than Kristyl, which is why he kept himself between her and the winds.
They reached the questionable shelter of the trees, which were bending so far over Vasiht’h wondered why they hadn’t snapped yet, and began their search for the blip on their scanner. They’d been scouring their quadrant for nearly half an hour now, because the resort staffer had warned them that some people might not show on the scans for any number of technical reasons; Vasiht’h had stopped listening the moment the first had been ‘they might be unconscious.’ He suspected the staffer had stopped himself from saying ‘they might be dead.’ But they’d found no one, and Vasiht’h desperately hoped it was because there’d been no one to find, and not that they’d missed someone.
But they didn’t miss this person. Kristyl got onto her hands and knees and looked under a rock and found a small Hinichi toddler. She had to pull the boy out by herself, because Vasiht’h couldn’t lower himself easily, and the child himself had passed out. Injury? Fear? Exhaustion? He didn’t know, but the boy was a light burden.
Kristyl checked the scanner, then the timer. She pointed at the countdown and yelled, “Go on?”
Vasiht’h glanced at it. They had less than fifteen minutes, but they hadn’t finished their search area. “Yes,” he shouted back, and they continued on.
They found no one else. They also didn’t complete their canvass before they were called back. As Vasiht’h hurried after Kristyl, he wondered if he would carry the guilt of that unfinished search all his life, or if it would fade with time, or perspective. Would he look back one day and realize he couldn’t hold himself responsible for every person the storm claimed? That it was hubris to think there had to have been anyone left for him to find, just because he hadn’t stayed to make sure? Or would he come to believe that he’d given up too soon, and a real hero would have sacrificed himself to be certain?
At the moment, he was too tired to care, which was itself a revelation. That exhaustion could pull the plug on unproductive negative emotions, as well as positive ones. And they had found one person. He stared down into the face of the boy he was still clutching, and hoped to Her Heaven that his parents were waiting for him.
As it was, he and Kristyl were among the last of the teams to return, and the wind was buffeting their backs when they entered, water sleeting off them to pool around their bodies. Vasiht’h handed over the child and accepted a towel, which he set around Kristyl’s shoulders before propelling her toward the drier inner sanctuary. The second towel he used on himself before fetching a cup of hot tea for both of them. The genies weren’t functional on emergency power, but kettles were, and tea bags needed no fancy technology.
“Thanks,” Kristyl said. He hadn’t missed her eager scanning of the crowd when they’d first arrived. She sipped, her enthusiasm drained.
Vasiht’h sat next to her, his wet tail flopped over his also wet paws. Now that they were no longer outside fighting the elements, he felt the ache of his side and the broken wing badly, and shifted several times seeking a more comfortable position.
“Did you take a painkiller?” Kristyl asked, rousing from her despondency.
“You know, I didn’t think of it?”
Her smile was crooked. “I’ll get you something.”
Vasiht’h didn’t know if he wanted something for the pain, but he let her go because he could tell she needed to do something to keep from coming apart. He knew the feeling, because he was right there with her, breathing around a chest too small and tight for all the feelings he wasn’t examining. He waited for Kristyl, counting breaths, and swept his gaze over the group, which had grown larger but not large enough. Not to account for all the people who must be missing.
But at the back of the room, near the hall to the restrooms, he saw Keridwen in Bodken’s arms.
When Kristyl returned she found him sniffling, and she left again to get tissues. Handing them over, she put an arm around his shoulders.
“Your Seersa couple found one another again,” Vasiht’h told her.
“Just like we’
ll find our other halves,” Kristyl said. “You’ll see.”
Vasiht’h wiped his eyes. He knew he’d see Jahir again, barring some fresh catastrophe: he’d found his way out of the sea and to shelter, and the storm would be bad but it would pass and this would be over. He would get off Tsera Nova, and Jahir would be waiting for him on the station, and years from now… no, they wouldn’t laugh about it years from now. But they’d look back on it and say, ‘Well, that happened and it’s over, aren’t you glad.’
But Kristyl…
“Maybe we should organize a game to keep people’s minds off the storm.”
The human looked away. “I don’t think most of the people here feel like playing.”
“Maybe not. But is sitting here staring at the satellite feed any better?” When she didn’t answer, Vasiht’h said, “I knew these girls. Know them. I know these girls.” He paused. “Strange to realize I still know them, when I’ve been so used to thinking of them in the past tense.”
Kristyl was staring at him now, one brow lifted. “All right. You got me with that opening. You knew some girls that you know and that confuses you? It confuses me too, so rock on?”
Vasiht’h managed a laugh. “You remember my partner the Eldritch.”
She smiled, a little. “Who could forget.”
“I met him in a hospital parking lot, where I was letting six of its residents teach me to jump rope. Girls. Children.”
Kristyl grimaced. “So this is a story about how things could be worse, and we have to buck up like the brave sick children and focus on the good things in life.”
Vasiht’h paused. “Yes? And no?”
She chuckled. “There you go again. Confusing yourself, and me.”
“But you want to hear about how they taught him to jump rope too, and how that led to us being friends?”
Kristyl hugged her knees. “It’s got an Eldritch in it, and cute kids. All you need is a kitten or a puppy and you’re golden.”
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