Changing Worlds

by Cari Z.

  The twins seemed to be more worried and exasperated than anything else, clearly trying to persuade their brother that this wasn’t what he wanted—that it was an impetuous decision. Ferran actually seemed angry, snapping out harsh words and smacking the back of one hand into the palm of the other in a gesture Jason had never seen before.

  Corran stood there and took it all silently, but his skin was getting darker and darker, and it was only a very short matter of time until he’d boil over and things would really go to hell. Jason felt compelled to step in before that could happen.

  “Stop it,” he said, and then a few seconds later, more forcefully, “Stop it. Please.”

  The twins quieted down, and after Jason placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder, he stopped as well. “This isn’t helping. Corran, I’m not going to tell you what to do or what to be, but—” He held up a hand when the young male opened his mouth to speak. “Do you actually know any escort techniques yet?”

  “No… but that is why I should go, so I can learn!”

  “Who’s going to teach you? One of us? Your brothers and cousin aren’t duelists, and I’m not a bodyguard, so we can’t help you. You can’t practice what you don’t know. Next time, ask to be invited, instead of inviting yourself.”

  “But he will be there,” Corran insisted sullenly.

  “Who?”

  “Seronn of House Tlann. And he does not like you—he says awful things when you are not able to hear him, and I do not trust that he will not make trouble for you.”

  “Why will he be there?” Ferran asked, his ears twitching uncomfortably.

  “He said it was because tomorrow is the best day for viewing the… the… beetles?” Corran turned confused eyes on his brothers. “Bark beetles? Are those words right?”

  “They will work,” Neyarr said. “But when has Seronn ever been interested in looking at bark beetles?”

  “He isn’t. It’s for Jason and Ferran, so he can trouble them,” Corran said. “I should go.”

  “No.”

  “But Jason—”

  “I can care for my own consort,” Ferran interjected angrily. “We will be fine.”

  “Leave,” said Garrell.

  “Go,” added Neyarr.

  “All right,” Corran shouted at his brothers. He turned and left, trailing wounded dignity like a cloak.

  Jason looked over at his husband. Ferran’s nostrils were flared and his quills were so sharp that Jason decided it was better if he didn’t touch them, just in case. “Are you okay? We don’t have to go do this tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow is the last day they will have for themselves before the rhezan,” Ferran replied, gesturing to his cousins. “And we have places reserved for us on the platform. We should go. We will be fine.”

  “Perfectly fine,” Neyarr agreed. “Seronn might be an… an ass… but he is not stupid. Any trouble he makes for his matriarch with the House of Grenn would go very hard for him.”

  “Tlann is ambitious, but she isn’t foolish,” Garrell said.

  Ferran didn’t say anything else. He just listened to his cousins talk it through for themselves before saying, “We will see you tomorrow morning.” He ushered Jason out and back to their own den in silence.

  Jason waited patiently for his husband to say something, and was finally rewarded with, “Did you know my mother was going to make Corran the next duelist?”

  Well, that question was a bit of a surprise. “No,” Jason said, “she’s never even discussed it with me.”

  “Not once?”

  “Not once,” Jason repeated. “Why?”

  “Because… she told me that she might consult with you on it. That you might be able to recommend one of your students.”

  “I don’t even know what would be required for the position,” Jason said honestly. “Although I don’t think Corran is a bad choice. At least he’s interested.”

  “He is too young to know!” Ferran insisted. “It is a dangerous role, the most dangerous, and he is too young to choose such a path.”

  “He isn’t that young.” Jason didn’t really know why he was arguing about this, but for some reason, it felt important. “People all over the universe choose difficult paths every day, for a lot of reasons. If Corran feels this is the best way for him to serve, then he should be allowed to take it.”

  “But he doesn’t know how,” Ferran said, his voice layered over with a mournful whine.

  “He’ll learn. Grenn will make sure of that. And I’ll do what I can to look out for him.”

  Finally, Ferran relaxed enough to be drawn into his lover’s embrace, and Jason held him close with a relieved sigh. “I know you will help him,” Ferran whispered. “You’re a good person.”

  “I try.”

  Chapter Eleven

  THE INHERENT goodness of Jason’s character was tested the next day, and he was thankful that so much of his mental map consisted of a firm belief in privacy and a resounding ability to keep his own mouth shut.

  Their day began well. He and Ferran met the twins, sans their younger brother, and all of them acted as if nothing had happened yesterday as they piled into one of Grenn’s shuttles.

  “The factory is releasing a new nest of beetles today,” Neyarr said. He and his brother were dressed in matching blue, so tight it was more than suggestive, it was almost obscene. It was their last day before the time they’d need preparing themselves for the rhezan, and they were clearly intent on making the most of it. “They only do it twice a year. It is very enjoyable to see.”

  “They’re different colors,” Garrell explained. “Different colored beetles are designed to work different trees. The biologists have bred them this way, and the nestlings will emerge from the nursery and find their way to the beetles that share their color.”

  “It takes them a while to find their way, though. They fumble through the lines, bumping and mixing things up….” Ferran grinned widely as he tapped his closed fists together lightly. “It is very adorable.”

  You’re adorable. It was on the tip of Jason’s tongue to say it, but he wasn’t given to public displays of affection, even if it was only words and the twins would probably enjoy it. Ferran seemed to sense it anyway, because he curled close and stayed bright and happy, almost like the disclosures of last night had never happened.

  The factory was almost as far out as the landing site, but in the opposite direction. It was clear that the place was industrial; it rose higher above the ground than any of the other buildings Jason had seen here, even the Council House. Steam rose from vents on top of the building, causing the sky to haze like a mirage. Jason stepped out into the heat and humidity and the sting, but it didn’t bother him so much with his family standing around him, excited to show him something new.

  The factory manager showing them around was a member of the House of Tlann, the head scientist for the facility, and from the look on her face, she definitely had better things to do than escort them from one end of the factory to the platform on the other side. Apparently, Jason merited careful handling.

  “Do not step off the platform or the walkways,” she said crisply in perfect Federation language. “If you go out onto the walkways, keep your eyes down. Sweepers do an excellent job of clearing the closest flora of animals, but it is always possible that something could get by. If you see something that looks dangerous, stay away from it and immediately return to the platform. Stay away from the railing, and under no circumstances should you attempt to climb over, lean over, or even look over the railing. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Matriarch,” Ferran said politely.

  “That goes especially for you two,” she said with a glower at the twins. “If I see either of you in any of those trees again…. And leave the beetles alone, or I do not care what the future holds for you—come mother or wife, I will harden your hides with the palm of my hand. Do you understand me?”

  The twins smiled as one. “Yes, Matriarch.”

  “Go.” She ope
ned the door at the end of the interminable hall, letting them out into the darkness beyond. Jason let himself be led outside with gentle touches to his hand. It was nighttime, naturally, so Jason was at a disadvantage when it came to getting around, but he was surprised to find that not only could he make his way across the spongy platform without any problems, he could make out even the tiniest details of the forest surrounding them. Everything was glowing. Not only was it glowing, it was moving.

  The trees here were variations on a theme, some of them with trunks that spread low and thick and spiny branches that shot straight up, fighting for their places in the sun. Others were taller and thinner, with wide, oblong leaves that dripped condensed water down onto the distant floor. Everything glowed with fungus in various shades and strengths of phosphorescence that tended toward greens, blues, and yellows. And the things that were making it move were….

  “What are those?”

  Ferran smiled and pulled Jason farther from the building, stepping quickly as they made their way to the edge of the platform. “Those are the bark beetles. Come and look.”

  They stopped at the edge, and the sour air caught in Jason’s throat as he looked out at the forest. Everything… no, not everything. Something was moving, everywhere. Some of the trees were vast, and in the crevices of their bark, round creatures crawled, their bright backs reflecting the glow of the trees in slightly different hues like crimson, cobalt, and violet. Many of them were climbing the trees, but lines of them, armies of them, were down on the forest floor, making their way out into the jungle in surprisingly orderly rows. “Those are beetles?”

  “Yes.”

  “They look enormous.”

  “Compared to the ones you are used to?”

  “I’m not used to any, really—they couldn’t survive on Jacksonville—but I’ve seen pictures before. Encountered a few when I was on other worlds…. They were nowhere near this big.”

  “These beetles are larger than their natural counterparts, and much more colorful,” Ferran allowed. “They were designed to be able to bring more bark back to the factory at one time, but the best part about them is that they are environmentally conscious. The trees regenerate their bark fast, but the beetles naturally know which have been harvested as far as is safe, and they search out new trees. There is some attrition among the beetles, but that is why new ones are constantly being bred in the hatcheries.”

  “That’s fascinating.”

  “Yes.” Ferran looked out at the glowing tableau, and Jason looked at Ferran, watching the glowing trails of light reflected in his eyes. “The beetles were modified before the civil war, when we were more involved with genetic engineering. They were a much more successful experiment than what ended up happening to us.” He shrugged slightly, a human gesture that he had picked up in his travels. Jason hadn’t seen it in any of the Perels who had never been off the planet. “Our scientists have managed to make a few minor changes over the years, but the beetles have continued to work flawlessly for the most part. They are more docile than the natural kind, and they head out to harvest and return very reliably.”

  “You know a lot about this.”

  “Not really. I was just a good student.”

  “He paid far too much attention in classes,” Neyarr said, looping one arm around Ferran’s shoulders. “He learned your language faster than any of us. He spent far too much time studying. He was no fun at all.”

  “That is why we had to accompany him beyond Perelan,” Garrell agreed. “So that he would not spend all of his time on educating his mind instead of educating his body.”

  “Not that he spent all that much time educating his body,” Neyarr assured Jason. Ferran’s quills sharpened and his ears twitched, but Jason just stroked his thumb along Ferran’s hand.

  “Do you want to take one of the walkways?” Garrell asked.

  “Yes!” Neyarr pulled Ferran to the left, and Jason and Garrell followed. There was a walkway, long and thin and rickety, leading out into the trees. It swayed a little beneath their feet as they walked along, and Jason kept his free hand firmly on the rail. The sounds of leaves rustling, rain falling, and the whisper-light thrush of thousands of legs moving against the spongy soil filled Jason’s ears. When they finally stopped, he was grateful because he could focus on the sounds of the world around him.

  “See the little ones?” Ferran murmured, guiding his gaze with a gesture. “They’re the nestlings. They’re still trying to find their way to the right groups.” Sure enough, smaller spots of brightness down in the long, twining lines of insects were muddling through and creating havoc as they sought out beetles of the same color. Jason smiled a bit, watching them.

  Snap! A sound like a cracking branch suddenly echoed, and Jason turned his head toward the disturbance. A cluster of beetles had been separated and overturned, each of them flailing to find its feet again. In the center of their mass was an emptiness, and above it… one of the beetles was rising into the air, its shell appearing and disappearing in the gloom. What the hell….

  “Scissor mouth!” Garrell said excitedly. “I’m surprised one was able to get roots in this close to the factory. Can you see it, Jason?”

  “I think so.” It was hard—the plant was perfectly camouflaged—but he thought he could make out the projections sticking through the beetle’s hard shell. Something that looked like a dense vine twined above it, attached to the lowest part of the tree canopy.

  “That’s a big one,” Neyarr added, tilting his head as he surveyed it. “They have to be big to pick up a mature bark beetle. The largest of them can consume a grown Perel if we are not wary of them….”

  “We should let the matriarch know when we return,” Ferran said. “It isn’t safe for a scissor mouth to be so close to the workers.”

  Jason didn’t say anything; he just watched as the beetles reassembled their lines and continued on their trek. After a few minutes, bits and pieces of shining shell began to fall from the sky, but the beetles pressed on, unaware or uncaring of their comrade’s grisly demise. Ascertaining whether or not there were any other sentient creatures on Perelan was one of Jason’s more covert assignments from Giselle, and after that display, he could safely attest that the beetles were in all likelihood not fully sentient creatures.

  After a few more minutes, the rainfall began to increase, and Jason’s eyes started to burn. Ferran looked at him concernedly. “We should leave.”

  “What about the walkways on the other side?”

  “I have seen enough.” They headed back toward the platform, and Jason was happy to get a surface under his feet that was just bouncy, and not also mobile from side to side. Another group of visitors was just preparing to head out, and Jason had his first true moment of unpleasantness of the day.

  Seronn of Tlann was leading a group of five other males toward the walkway, and as soon as he saw whom he was facing, his whole demeanor changed, instantly becoming more forward, more arrogant. “Greetings to the sons of the House of Grenn,” he said in Perel, inclining his head as he did so, but his eyes stayed on Ferran.

  “Greetings, Son of Tlann,” Ferran said formally. The flatness of his ears let Jason know just how unhappy he was with this sudden meeting, but his voice was normally inflected.

  “How did you find the view?”

  “Beautiful.” Ferran turned to Jason. “Didn’t you think so?” he asked in the Federation tongue.

  “Very,” Jason agreed in the same language.

  “I thought your new consort was supposed to be learning as well as instructing,” Seronn said, and there was no mistaking the mockery in his voice. “But, then, I have also heard that he is not as adept with his lips as he is with his hands. Perhaps you could tell me the truth of the matter.”

  Ferran’s hand tightened spasmodically on Jason’s, but he still maintained his outward calm. The twins were tense, flanking Jason and Ferran, silent but watchful. Seronn’s own party kept a careful distance. “My consort is talented in everyt
hing he does. Please move out of our way.”

  “My matriarch bid me speak with you as soon as I had the chance,” Seronn continued as though he hadn’t heard a thing. “I was going to pay a visit to you at your household, but chance has led us to meet here. Would you step aside with me for a moment?” He glanced at Jason. “What I have to say is meant for your ears alone.”

  “I do not keep secrets from my consort.” The immediate response soothed Jason’s rising temper.

  “Then you will surely tell him everything afterward, but my instructions are clear. The words I have to say are to be heard by you alone.” He inclined his head again. “Please indulge me.”

  Ferran didn’t move, and after a moment, Jason realized he probably wouldn’t without some sort of sign that Jason was okay. “It’s fine,” he murmured in Ferran’s ear. “I’ll be fine, just stay close.”

  “Very well.” Ferran reluctantly let go of his hand and stepped forward. Seronn smiled at him and smirked at Jason, and then the two of them walked twenty feet away, close to the edge of the platform. Neither party moved. Twitching and shifting their weight as if they expected to have to run at any moment, Seronn’s companions watched Jason and the twins nervously. Jason kept his eyes locked on his husband, waiting for any sign that he was needed.

  The conversation was short—less than a minute—and Seronn bowed and returned to his group. He led them in the opposite direction, and a moment later, Ferran was back. He kept his eyes lowered, and his quills lay rigidly flat along his back, the visible symbol of an emotion that Jason had never seen in his lover before. Jason drew him close, stroking down from his shoulder to his hand. “Ferran….”

  “I want to leave now.” Ferran’s voice was low and dispirited.

  “That’s fine. That’s fine, we can leave.” Moving as one, the group of them headed for the entrance to the factory. A silent male met them at the door and escorted them through the passage, then bowed them out.

  Their shuttle and driver were waiting for them. Ferran entered first, without looking at any of them. Jason glanced over at the twins in consternation.