Nomad

by William Alexander

  “How kind of him to protect us,” said Kaen. She had her own history of disgruntlement with these captains—Qonne in particular. But then she looked thoughtful. “We might be able to use that. Qonne needs to be protective. He needs to exercise more control. We could offer him the chance.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Gabe said. “How?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Ideas?”

  “No,” Gabe said. “Wait, yes. Maybe. The prisoner?”

  Kaen understood. “Perfect.”

  She cleared her throat and straightened her spine. Most species notice a more alert posture; whoever held such a posture might either run or pounce.

  “Captain Qonne,” she said, loudly. “I would speak.”

  The room fell silent. Qonne paused before answering. He clearly did not enjoy speaking with a child. Children of his species did not know how. “Speak then,” he said. “Ambassador,” he added once he remembered that he should.

  Kaen spoke, slow and clear. “Nadia Kollontai may now be able to travel the lanes. The Outlast can certainly travel the lanes, and we hold a living Outlast prisoner. We could send this prisoner with her. Captain Qonne, would you be willing to contribute another passenger, someone from your own ship, someone capable of safely guarding the imprisoned Outlast?”

  She phrased the idea tentatively, as a suggestion and a question. That’s not how she usually talks, Gabe noticed. She likes clear statements of fact. Instead she invited the captain to take up her idea and call it his. He could tell that it bothered her to do this, but she did it anyway.

  Qonne looked thoughtful. “Four captains will now consider this.” That wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either.

  The four captains considered and deliberated at the far end of the chamber. The Blue Envoy left them there and scootched over to join the ambassadors.

  “Well done,” it said. “Very well done. You are all politicians.”

  Nadia flinched as though slapped. She turned to pay closer attention. “Where I come from, that word is an insult. It means someone powerful, privileged, fickle, and probably stupid. Someone who might have you killed for no reason.”

  Kaen’s envoy turned embarrassed shades of blue. “Then I offer my sincere apologies for unintended shades of meaning. I only meant to say that you all have talents for persuasion. You speak well, as ambassadors must. But you can also describe what you believe should happen, and afterward others believe it as well. This is a powerful talent. I do encourage you to cultivate it, however much it may remind you of dangerously fickle people and abuses of authority.”

  Nadia turned away and muttered the word politicians again.

  Gabe felt a sinking feeling as though someone had cranked up the gravity. Whatever the extra entanglement had accomplished, it had not increased Nadia’s diplomatic skills. Pretty much the opposite.

  The Blue Envoy politely withdrew, trailing a stream of apologies behind it. Then Speaker Tlatoani called out from across the chamber.

  “Little mouths,” she said. “Ambassadors.”

  “Great Speaker,” Kaen answered with only slight impatience. “What have you decided?”

  “Our faces have grown wide for you,” the Speaker said.

  “Translation help?” Gabe whispered.

  “She’s proud of us,” Kaen whispered back.

  Tlatoani went on. “If hidden Outlast considered it urgent to prevent your actions, then these actions must have merit. You should pursue them further. And the fleet cannot protect you, or protect ourselves by detaining you. Here this is understood. We the captains understand it. So the Terran ambassadors should both leave us, one for home and the other to meet with Machinae—if such a meeting can ever be possible.”

  Gabe drew himself up, and he spoke with formality—but he tried not to sound too formal, like a fraud, or an impostor, or his dad making fun of something with exaggerated pseudo-ceremony. I’m not pretending to be an ambassador, he reminded himself. I am an ambassador. And their faces have grown wide for us.

  “You did protect us here,” he said. “Thank you for that, and for your hospitality. I will always speak well of the Kaen.”

  “Thanks to you for the gift of ice and sanctuary,” said the Great Speaker. “This system was ours before we were Kaen, but now, as Kaen, it is not ours, and its resources are not ours to take. We survive by your guest gift, and we will speak well of you.”

  “What have the captains decided to do with the Outlast prisoner?” Kaen asked.

  Qonne answered. “That thing will travel in a stasis cell with hatchling Kollontai. Two escorts will accompany it. One comes from my ship—a soldier and diplomat.”

  You’re sending someone else to talk to the Machinae, Gabe realized. You don’t trust Nadia. You won’t trust a hatchling to speak for us. But you are letting her leave. And Nadia is muttering to herself and ignoring all of you, so I kinda understand your lack of confidence.

  “My ship sends the other guard,” said Mumwat, his deep voice muffled inside the purple bubble.

  I hope they fix his suit soon, Gabe thought. I need my envoy back.

  18

  The three ambassadors left the House of Painted Books and returned to their small, temporary quarters in the academy.

  Dr. Dromidan flew by to say something in Nadia’s ear.

  “I will,” Nadia answered. “I promise. Even though I can’t actually promise that. Barnacle might bounce off the lanes again, skip over several more decades, and arrive in some future galaxy empty of everyone but Outlast. That could still happen, you know.”

  Gabe winced.

  Dromidan punched Nadia in the ear.

  “Ow,” she said. “Never mind. I didn’t mean to say any of that aloud. I only meant to say yes, I’ll be well. I promise. Nothing bad will happen.”

  The doctor whacked her ear again and then flew off.

  The three ambassadors settled in to wait.

  Barnacle still needed to feed—to refuel—with the cluster of Khelone ships who traveled in the fleet. And Gabe needed his envoy before Kaen could take him back down to Earth, as she had promised to do. So they waited. All three felt drained, exhausted, and unwilling to debate anything important. Gabe found a deck of cards in his emergency backpack and suggested a game instead.

  “Interesting idea,” Nadia said. “You do remember that I can’t see any of the cards, right? The envoys rewired my head, but my eyes and my brain still aren’t speaking to each other.”

  “Haven’t forgotten,” Gabe said while sorting cards. “But we could play Psychic. I’m ditching the face cards. Dealer draws one from the rest. The other two players have to guess which card.”

  Kaen watched him pick through the deck. “What do the black and red symbols mean?”

  “Hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades,” Gabe said. “The four suits.”

  “Love, wealth, weapons, and work?” Kaen tried to clarify.

  “Sort of,” Gabe said. “Suits are important for other games, but not this one. Just guess a number between two and ten.”

  “Four,” said Kaen.

  “Not yet!” Gabe protested. “Wait until after I see the card. You’re not trying to predict the future. You’re trying to guess what number I’m looking at, while I’m looking at it.”

  Nadia made a thoughtful noise. “You’re testing my extra, expanded entanglements. Think I might be a mind reader now?”

  “Maybe,” Gabe said. He shuffled the numbered cards. It felt satisfying between his fingertips. “They used all of us as points on a map when they remapped your brain, so maybe we’re still linked. And if you can hear me thinking, then I’d really like to know about it, so I can think very carefully in your company.”

  Nadia laughed at him. And with him. Both at once. “Well, I can’t hear your thoughts at the moment. Or anyone else’s. Mine included. Everything’s fuzzy. My brain feels like it’s wading through waist-deep water in a thick fog. I can’t focus on anything.” Frustration threw off sparks underneath her voice
. “This was supposed to expand my mind, and my sense of language. Not shut it down.”

  “Focus on this,” Gabe suggested. “Just this. What card am I holding?”

  “A seven,” Nadia guessed.

  “That’s right!” Gabe said.

  “No, it isn’t,” said Kaen. “That’s a three. Unless the written numbers aren’t translating properly. But I think they are. There’s three of those small shovel symbols in the middle of the card.”

  Gabe winced.

  Nadia’s face and voice became coldly serious. “Ambassador Fuentes, are you cheating in my favor to boost my morale?”

  “Maybe,” he admitted. Back home he always played card games with Frankie, and sometimes Frankie needed to win. Gabe was used to cheating on a friend’s behalf.

  “Stop it,” Nadia insisted. “Play the game. Pick another card.”

  They played the game, first tense and cautious with each other, and then finally relaxed and laughing. Every right answer felt like magic, even if it was really just random luck. And it did seem to be random luck. All three of them guessed the correct number sometimes—but usually not.

  “I don’t seem to be psychic,” Nadia said, self-mocking and clearly disappointed underneath. “I don’t feel like I have extra-special powers of Machinae speech, either.”

  Purple Envoy scootched through the doorway.

  “Be patient,” it said with the deep and grumbly voice that it always used with Nadia. “Your brain is still trying to understand its new shape. But it does seem to be working, I’m deeply relieved to say. I’m also relieved to report that Captain Mumwat is suited and mobile again. He was pleasant company, but I didn’t otherwise enjoy my time serving as a fishbowl. The nutrient fluid had an unfortunate taste.”

  Gabe jumped up, thrilled to see his envoy. Then he sat down again, because it used that other voice. It spoke as Nadia’s envoy, her friend and mentor, and not his own. He gathered up the cards and put them away.

  Purple Envoy cleared its throat. “The Khelone ship has docked. They are waiting for you, Nadia. Time to say good-byes again.”

  “Feels like we just did,” Nadia said. She poked the Envoy’s sock-puppet face with one finger.

  “It does,” the Envoy agreed, “though it was forty years ago for me.”

  “Sorry about that,” Nadia said. “I’ll try not to lose any more decades this time. And I’m glad you gave my job to Fuentes. You picked a good one.”

  Gabe’s morale improved instantly.

  “I always do,” the Envoy said. “Safe travels, Nadia.”

  “No such thing,” she said. “Remember?”

  “Instead there’s trust,” Gabe added.

  “Very true,” said the Envoy. “I’m glad you both listened.”

  Nadia Antonovna Kollontai held out one hand to her colleagues. Gabe took it. So did Kaen. This led to an awkward jumble of fifteen fingers.

  “It was an honor to serve with you both,” Nadia said before she let go.

  * * * *

  The ambassadors traveled through Night by train car and corridor. Gabe walked with his jump bag on his back, his great-grandfather’s cane sword in his hand, and the Envoy oozing at his feet. He looked around and tried to etch every visual detail into his memory; Night and Day above each other with the sun burning between them, Kaen of every species in the streets outside, and the honor guards who lined the corridors between the train stations and the docking bays. Many of the guards were human, but not all. Those with hands carried bright shields and shock spears. Hypnotic colors decorated each shield. Gabe found them distracting. That was probably the point. Look at my shield! he thought. Don’t notice the spear, not until after I zap you with it.

  Nadia left them to board the Khelone ship that waited for her. She had already said her good-byes, and offered no more of them.

  I hope this works, Gabe thought as he watched her go. You left our world and lost it to try this. I hope you don’t lose any more decades when you try again. And if you can read my mind, then I hope you hear this now. Good luck.

  If she heard him, she did not react.

  Gabe followed Kaen to her own shuttlecraft.

  The phosphorescent wall lanterns of the welcoming airlock grew bright as they entered. This time the room did not stand empty. Two more soldiers, both bandaged, stepped forward to greet them—the same two who had fought the Outlast during Nadia’s entanglement. The man had a bandaged throat, and said nothing. The woman spoke.

  “Gabriel Sandro Fuentes, ambassador of our shared planet of origin, go in peace. More peace than you found here. Speak well of us wherever you go, but tell no one where we are, or where we are going.”

  Gabe tried to sound official. “Be welcome in this system, and go in peace when you leave for other suns.” That sounded silly in his own ears rather than grandly important, but neither one of the adults laughed at him. Instead they stood at either side of the airlock, guarding one last passage through Calendar.

  Kaen opened a storage locker in the wall. “Your old suit is here,” she said. “But you’re welcome to trade it for one of ours. Ours are less . . . bulky.”

  Gabe gladly traded the orange cosmonaut suit for Kaen craftsmanship. Once suited up and helmeted, Kaen and Gabe climbed down into the shuttlecraft. The Envoy followed. It used its puppetlike mouth to catch each ladder rung as it went down.

  “I’m surprised the captains aren’t sending any soldiers along with us,” Gabe said once the airlock closed behind them.

  “Quiet that thought!” Kaen said quickly. “Don’t speak it aloud, or it might still happen. We don’t need anyone looming over us and having loud opinions. This craft is protection enough.”

  They settled into the back of the shuttle. Kaen steered the ship with gestures and with buttons on her bracelet. Gabe felt heavier as they launched, and then all sense of weight left him. He watched the projected images of fleet ships as they flew. He watched the flying saucer of the Calendar disappear behind them as they left the ice cave and Ceres behind.

  “So where are we going, exactly?” Kaen asked as she set a course inward, toward the sun. “I’ll take you down to the surface of the old homeworld, as promised. But planets are large. I assume you want me to bring you somewhere specific.”

  “I do,” Gabe said. “Two places, if you’re willing to take on the extra travel. We need to land in the place where I’m from, but where I’ve never actually been, and pick up one more passenger.”

  “Who?” Kaen asked.

  “My dad,” Gabe told her.

  He tried to explain his family’s complicated circumstances, but the words father and citizenship both translated strangely. Families had very different shapes aboard Calendar. Kaen’s uncles—her mother’s brothers, specifically—were closer kin than her father. She usually lived at her uncle’s farm in Day whenever she left the pyramid in Night. And while the fleet did have formal rules for individuals traveling between the ships, or for inviting new ships and civilizations to travel with them, such rules and guidelines sounded far more flexible than U.S. immigration law.

  “I don’t understand,” said Kaen. “I hear your words, and I know what the words themselves mean, but I still don’t understand. Migration is a fundamental right. Life moves. It travels from world to world, either in fleets of ships or as bacteria inside comets. You seem to know that already. You offered us sanctuary. You know what hospitality means between nomads. But your world doesn’t.”

  “It’s your world too,” Gabe insisted.

  “No,” said Kaen. “I don’t think it is.” She tapped her bracelet. A projection of the Earth enlarged to take up most of the shuttle. “Show me where we’re going.”

  Gabe watched the world turn under him. Night covered the Americas. He pointed to a large and sprawling glow of city lights in southwestern Mexico. “Here.”

  Kaen seemed surprised. “Our ancestors left from that same part of the world.”

  “I know,” Gabe said. “I kinda figured that out alread
y.”

  * * * *

  They passed quickly through the solar system, over the Earth, and into thickening layers of atmosphere above the Pacific Ocean. Then Kaen steered them eastward, over the water, over the beaches and mountains of Central America, until the shuttle finally hovered above the bright lights of Guadalajara.

  “Is this it?” Kaen asked. “Is this the City in the Valley of Stones?”

  The projection covered the shuttlecraft floor. Kaen and Gabe loomed above Guadalajara like kaiju.

  “I think so,” Gabe said.

  “It’s almost as large as Calendar,” said Kaen. “How will we find your uncle here?”

  “Father,” Gabe corrected. “He’ll be at my grandparents’ house. I have the address. He made sure all our jump bags included a full list of family contact info.” He dug out the address book and paged through the entries. “Okay, here. The Fuentes family home. I don’t know where this is, exactly. I wish I could google the address first to find out exactly where it is, but my phone isn’t fancy enough.”

  Kaen tapped her bracelet. The projection shifted to include street names. Gabe even saw a little Google logo glowing in the corner.

  “Your shuttle can read our Internet?” he asked, extremely surprised.

  “Of course,” she said. “It’s just a trick of translation. And we are very good at translation.” She glanced at his address book, and pushed more buttons. One house glowed.

  “That’s it?” Gabe asked.

  “That’s it,” she answered. “But I don’t see a workable landing site anywhere near. We’ll have to leave the craft in the western hills, here, and then use a local vehicle to get closer.”

  “Okay,” said Gabe. “We should be able to catch a bus. And a stealthy landing would probably be best.”

  “So we shouldn’t expect a formal and ceremonial welcome for this world’s absent ambassador?” Kaen asked.

  “No,” Gabe admitted. “The world didn’t notice when I left it.”

  “Good,” said Kaen. “Then we won’t have to deal with the extra attention. I really don’t mind spending time away from the captains.” She gestured slowly and steered them into the surrounding mountains. “The world is turning back around to face sunlight now. Almost morning. Strange to see night and day switch places with each other.”