by Delia Roan
“It was,” Jahle replied. “My grandparents lived here. I spent some time here every year.”
“What was your favorite thing about Kastik?”
The question took him by surprise. “I suppose I loved the fountains.” He waved to the west. “They were timed to music. Very beautiful. One of my grandmothers loved them, but my other grandmother said they were boastful. A waste of resources. She would turn up her nose when my Nana took me to see them, but she would always come along. I never knew why, when she hated them so.”
“But she loved you,” Mel said. “Sometimes we do things we don’t want for of love. I mean, I’ve been to every one of my sister’s plays. Even the one where she played a talking mop in the second grade. Her one line of dialog was ‘You’ll regret that, Farmer Jones!’ but she delivered it with conviction. I was so proud of her, even though I wanted to hide behind my seat. My sister: The Talking Mop.”
Jahle laughed. “Yes, we perform many laborious tasks for those we love. I once carried my eldest sister’s dissection kit from the pond back to the house, because the sight of the amphibian she had studied upset her, but she wanted to preserve the remains. She grew up to become a doctor.”
“What happened to your family? I mean, I know you have your brother, but I didn’t see a sister.”
“Dead,” Jahle replied. “My parents, both my sisters and my oldest brother. Only Dogan and I remain.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was soft. The sympathy in it made his heart ache.
Don’t be, he wanted to reply. It’s our own damn fault.
Greed. Anger. Hate.
They sat on a garden wall and ate. Then, they walked until the buildings thinned out. Here, the ruins were less dilapidated. The windows were all blown out, but the roofs and doors remained. Mel marveled at the decorative urns lining the front steps of a house.
“We are reaching the boundaries of the city,” Jahle said. “Keep your eyes open for the Water People.”
They stumbled onto their campsite by accident. Mel had spotted a flash of color out of the corner of her eye. A doll lay fallen beside an alley. Its dress was clean enough that it had not been part of the ruins. It was a more recent addition. Mel smoothed down the dress, and peered down the alley.
“You think they’re down there?”
“Let us go see.”
The alley led to a communal garden behind a row of houses. The garden was long dead, and only the raised vegetable beds and gnarled tree skeletons remained. A dying fire sat in a ring of paving stones.
“Look!” Mel darted forward. “It’s still smoking!”
Jahle reached out to grab her hand, but she was too quick. She stopped beside the fire, and peered at the ground.
“I think people were here recently.” She looked up at him, and her eyes grew wide. “Very, very recently.”
At the jerk of her chin, Jahle turned. A tall Ennoi woman with graceful horns stood in front of them. In her hand, she held a cylindrical object, which she pointed at Mel and Jahle. She jerked her chin, and her eyes flicked to Mel.
Taking the cue, Jahle stepped backward slowly, until he stood beside Mel. The Ennoi woman lifted her chin and raised her weapon, and both Mel and Jahle raised their hands.
“I’m guessing that’s not a sonar evaluator,” Mel whispered.
“No, it is not,” Jahle replied.
“Who are you?” The Ennoi woman’s voice was strong and held a ring of authority.
“We have no ill intent. We come-” Jahle began.
The woman shook her weapon, and Jahle stopped speaking. Her eyes remained fixed on Mel. “I am talking to you! Who are you?”
Mel’s eyes flicked between Jahle and the stranger. “Uhm. My name is Melissa Harlock. I’m from Earth. This is-”
“Why are you here?” the woman snapped.
Mel frowned. She looked to Jahle waiting for him to speak.
“We’ve brought me-” he began.
The woman interrupted again. “I asked you why you are here!”
The emphasis on the word ‘you’ made Jahle’s jaw tighten. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and sadness washed over him. His body seemed to grow heavier, as if the realization piled extra weight upon his shoulders.
So, he thought, it has come to this.
He turned to Mel. “You will have to speak to her. She will not listen to my words.”
Mel tipped her head in confusion. “Okay? She won’t speak to men?”
“I will explain later. For now, you talk.”
Mel addressed the Ennoi woman. “We’ve come to deliver medicine and food.”
At her words, the Ennoi woman’s face softened. The furrow on her brow between her horns lifted. “Medicine,” she whispered, as if the word was sacred. The look of wonder on her face fled, and the hardness returned. “Come.”
She jerked her weapon, and stepped aside, clearing the alleyway. Jahle nodded to Mel, and she walked to the alley. Jahle remained where he was, watching the Ennoi woman. The muzzle of her weapon followed Mel, but her eyes flicked to him. A look of uncertainty crossed her face. She resolutely returned her eyes to Mel.
It is true.
With a sigh, Jahle followed Mel. The woman led them through a maze of alleyways until they emerged into a wide field. Tents of waxed fabric dotted the field, and in the distance Jahle spotted heavy mining vehicles parked in a semicircle.
A fire burned in the middle of the field, but the campsite was deserted, save for one figure wrapped in a heavy blanket. The woman whistled twice, high and loud. The Ennoi at the campsite raised his head, and Jahle recognized him as Ketug.
He made it home.
“Zayef, what have you brought me?” Ketug tried to stagger to his feet, but the Ennoi woman – Zayef – pushed past them and raced to his side. She grabbed his arm and forced him to sit. She whispered into his ear, their horns skimming each other.
Is she his Avowed mate?
They both looked up to where Mel and Jahle stood, and Ketug waved a feeble hand. “Come sit, human.”
Beside him, Mel shifted her weight. “What’s going on?” she whispered.
“Go sit,” Jahle said. “Everything will be fine if you do as they say. They will not harm you.”
But they might harm me.
Mel took a seat across the fire from Ketug, and Jahle took a stance behind her.
Ketug coughed. He looked worse than the last time Jahle had seen him. His face was paler, and he had begun to shed scales, revealing the pale, delicate skin beneath. The wounds on his skin sent bright tendrils of red across his skin.
Jahle felt a pang of regret. He is dying. His eyes shot to Zayef, who kept her eyes fixed on Ketug. Her hand played over the back of his neck, soothing his pain with her presence. And when he dies, so will she.
“Zayef says you bring medicine and food,” Ketug said. His eyes lit with hope, but his face remained wary. He did not move his gaze from Mel.
Jahle slung the bags off his shoulder. He stepped around Mel and dropped the packs of food beside the fire. He carefully placed the pouch in front of Ketug. As he stepped back, he saw Ketug’s nostrils flare, but the Ennoi man paid no attention to Jahle. Zayef’s face was not as schooled. Her eyes darted to the packs, and she shifted her weight.
“Where is the medicine?” Ketug said, clearing his throat.
Mel blinked at him. Jahle merely shrugged his shoulders when she looked at him. “Err,” Mel said. “They’re right there. In front of you.”
As if freed from a chain, Zayef darted forward and seized the bag. She fumbled with the clasp and threw open the bag. Her mouth moved, and then her breath shuddered out. “Twelve,” she whispered. “Ketug, there are twelve.”
Ketug nodded. “Deliver them. Go.”
Zayef hurried away, headed to the nearest tent. A hoarse shout rose up from the tent, and shortly, Zayef raced out, heading to another tent. An elderly Ennoi woman hobbled out as Zayef left, and g
athered up the packs. Open sores dotted her arms and cheeks.
She nodded to Mel, and a smile creased her dolor-ravaged face. “Blessings be upon you.”
Mel blinked. “Thanks. But it wasn’t me. Jahle planned-”
The smile faded, as if wiped from her. The old woman’s mouth tightened, and she spat on the ground. She turned from Mel and hobbled away, muttering curses under her breath.
“Wh-” The heartbroken look Mel shot him made his chest ache, but Jahle tried to give her a reassuring smile.
“Later,” he mouthed to her. When she shook her head in puzzlement, he spoke the word. The translator wouldn’t pick up his miming.
Mel shuffled her feet, and turned back to Ketug. “Uhm. I’m Mel. Melissa Harlock.” She raised her finger and pointed to Jahle. This is-”
“I am Ketug of the Water People,” Ketug stated, his face like thunder. “It is very brave of you to journey this far alone. You have great fortitude to come all this way, by yourself.”
Mel gaped. “What? I-I didn’t…”
A shout from a nearby tent drew their attention. Zayef stood in the doorway, and beckoned to Ketug. “Come! Eien has woken. Our son is awake!”
The darkness on Ketug’s face lifted. He stood, and, swaying like a reed in the breeze, he stumbled his way to the tent.
As soon as he was gone, Mel whipped around to face him. “What,” she hissed at him, “the hell is going on?”
He braced himself. It was time he told her. She had a right to know. If he told her, maybe then he would accept this relationship was doomed. Regret filled his mouth, but he tried to push it away.
I have earned this. I cannot change the past.
Jahle shrugged. “I have died.”
CHAPTER TEN
MELISSA
Died?
Mel stared at Jahle. She hadn’t spent much time with him, but she never pegged him for a joker.
“What do you mean died?” she said. She tapped behind her ear. “Is the translator messing up?”
“Died. No longer among the living. Passed on into the Great Unknown. Yielded to the embrace of the moon. Died.”
Right. That kind of died.
“You seem very chatty for a corpse.”
Jahle performed another irritating shrug. “I am dead. To these people. I no longer exist to them.”
Mel shook her head. “You… you… what? You brought them medicine.” She jerked her thumb at the tent Ketug had disappeared into. “If that’s what the disease looks like, then they should be singing your praises. Why didn’t they touch the bag when you gave it to them?”
Jahle sighed. When he spoke, he sounded out each word as if speaking to an infant. “Because I am dead.”
She shot to her feet. “You keep saying that! But you’re not dead! You’re right here! Can you just freaking tell me what’s going on?”
Jahle studied her. “An Ennoi is only an Ennoi through other Ennoi. When we are no longer considered Ennoi by our own people, we cease to exist to them.”
“What?”
“They will not acknowledge my name. They will not see me, even though I am right beside them. I no longer exist to them.”
“You…” Mel felt her face grow hot. “You helped them, and, and, and…”
He reached out his hand and placed it on her cheek. Despite the heat from her anger and the fire behind her, his hand seemed to scorch her skin. She trembled under the contact. The intensity in his eyes sucked her under.
Why am I defending this guy?
He’s the bad guy!
Yet she knew she didn’t believe it any more. When it mattered, when it really mattered, he came through. Not just for her, but for the Water People.
And the Water People are treating him like dirt.
“It’s not fair,” she mumbled, embarrassed by the strength of her reaction.
“It is not,” he said, his voice gentle. “But it is the way it is. Endure. I do not wish for them to consider you deceased on my account. We need their help, as much as they need ours.”
Mel’s reply was eaten up by a cry from behind her. Jahle immediately stepped away from her, and backed away. She turned to see Zayef emerge from the tent. She stumbled to Mel and threw herself into the dust in front of Mel’s feet. Mel stepped back.
Zayef raised a tear-stained face to Mel. “Thank you,” she said. “My son has awakened. He was near death, and your gift has spared his life.”
From the other tent, a voice rang out. The translator in her ear remained silent; the song was wordless, but the melody wound itself upward into the quiet of the cavern, and echoed off the walls.
“Wh-what’s going on?” Mel blinked.
“The old Ennoi woman sings a song of jubilation,” Jahle replied.
“The medicine worked? That fast?”
“Ennoi are hardy. When we are not weak from starvation. The children will rest, and they will heal.”
Zayef stood and brushed off her tattered gown. “Tonight, we will celebrate.”
The elderly Ennoi woman stumbled out of a tent, lugging a giant pot. Soot stained the underside, and it left smears on Zayef’s clothing as she helped the old woman carry it.
“Come,” Zayef called. “Join us.”
Mel shot a glance at Jahle, but he merely shrugged. She followed the Ennoi women to one of the vehicles to the side of their camp. The women dropped the pot beside one of the trucks.
“What are these?” Mel asked.
“Transportation,” the elderly Ennoi replied. She pulled down a spout from the side of the vehicle and water began to dribble out. The old woman scowled. “We will need to find more water,” she told Zayef.
Zayef sighed. “We are not ready to move on yet, Olex.”
Olex’s scowl deepened. “We might have no choice.”
“Jah-” Mel caught herself. “Er, from the tents I assume you are nomads?”
“We are.” Zayef thumped the side of the vehicle. “We move from area to area with these. This is a water truck. It can extract water from the water table beneath, but this area is running dry. Seismic shifts have cause many issues for us.”
Like at the camp pumps.
Mel studied the four vehicles with interest. They had treads instead of wheels, and were heavily built, reminding her of construction equipment more than vehicles. While the paint chipped in spots, the machines shone. She noticed the water truck had a gauge on the side, when Olex tapped it. The dial jumped, but returned to its initial position.
The old woman pursed her lips. “When the children are stronger, we should journey back to the Water Extraction Plant.”
Zayef grunted. “We will have to see. It is far. It might not be running any more. Plus, there are so few of us.”
The women stood in silence while water gurgled into the pot. When it was half full, Zayef turned the water off. Olex and Zayef hauled the cauldron back to the fire. Jahle sat on the ground a short distance away, leaning against the ruins of a building. His eyes were closed, and Mel felt a jolt of sympathy for him.
Olex pulled protein bars from the packs and began breaking them into pieces before throwing them into the pot. With a grunt, she hobbled away to a tent. She returned with a bag, which contained small jars. Zayef pulled the bag from Olex when the old woman approached the cooking pot.
“No, Olex. I’ll add the seasonings.”
“You don’t trust my cooking?” Olex sighed. “It is a burden to grow old.”
Zayef smiled with great fondness. “You’re a brilliant engineer, but a terrible cook.”
“Pah. Ask me to build a strut that can bear a seismic load instead…”
Mel tipped her head. “Engineer?”
Zayef opened jars and sprinkled in the dried leaves and powders from inside. “Yes, the Water People are in charge of the Water Extraction, Treatment and Purification Plants. We wander from installation to installation, checking they are running efficiently. Olex was chief engine
er of our tribe. I used to be a junior assistant engineer, but…” Her voice trailed off.
Mel blinked. When she heard the term nomad, she thought of tribes of simple travelers, following the breeze. Not scientists.
Zayef dusted off her hands. “It must soften enough for the children to eat. Please, rest. I want to check on my family.”
“What happened?” Mel asked Olex. “People lived here, once. Why is Geran such a mess? Why are you still here? Why haven't you left?”
From Olex's silence, she wondered if she had crossed a line, but the old woman sighed. “We are Water People. While water flows, we are here.”
“I don’t understand.”
Olex sighed. “I do not understand it myself, but I will try to explain. Many generations ago, Ennoi were all of Cadam. It was our ancestral home. But Ennoi are restless. We have wanderlust. We left Cadam to claim new planets. We settled everywhere that we could. Even on inhospitable planets.” She waved his hand around. “Geran used to be one of them, but my ancestors tamed its wildness with terraforming equipment. They cleaned the air, purified the water, fertilized the soil.”
Mel bit her lip. “The Water People… You purified water?”
Olex nodded. “The Water People maintain the water supplies. The Air People, the atmosphere. The Gardens People grew crops to feed our people.”
“So, not tribes, but… companies? Workers?”
“Families in our own way. Everyone worked in harmony to make Geran thrive. Which it did, better than most colony planets. We discovered Geran held lumi,” Olex replied. “Precious jewels of great value. The rulers of that time, the Ar’Geran, choose to harvest the lumi from the ground. They approached Cadam to become a partner in the mining business. Big mistake.”
Mel’s lips were drawn. “Partnership didn’t work out?”
“The more lumi we found, the more Cadam demanded. The more we gave, the less they did. When Geran begged them to accept a lower cut of the profits, so we could build more geothermal generators, Cadam refused. Said the initial investment was not yielding returns as expected. As if we were a monetary gamble, and not Ennoi.”
“So what happened?”
“War.” Olex paused to cough.