by Patty Jansen
“The board can meet without me. I’ll send Ilrith; she knows as much as I do. The year reports are on my desk. I did them last night.” He rubbed his cheeks. Smooth and hairless, Jessica registered. The line of lights on the communication hub on the wall danced in front of his eyes. Damn, he was tired.
Jessica sent a thought, Who are you?
Daya hesitated.
Could he hear her?
The frown on his uncle’s face had deepened. “But Daya . . .”
The woman, his aunt, reached over the table, setting a bowl of steaming broth before her husband. He smiled at her. “Thanks.”
She then came to Daya, set the bowl down, stepped back, an expression of disbelief on her face. “You’re not going to work like this, Daya?”
His eyes met hers, challenging. Like what?
“You’ve been drinking.”
Daya pushed away a wave of irritation. So what? Yes, zixas had a potent smell; he’d wash and get changed before he left. Big deal. He needed it to keep him awake. All night he had spent going over the Network records Wonan had given him. He had found one irregularity, well-hidden amongst hundreds and thousands of data lines.
His uncle fixed him with a stern look. “Is anything wrong?”
“No.”
“Where are you going?”
“Picking up someone.” He enjoyed the puzzlement in his aunt and uncle’s faces and added, “When I come back, I’ll be moving into the apartment I bought.”
“By yourself? But what message will that give the workers? There is too much of a housing shortage for people to live by themselves, even us.”
“I won’t be alone.”
He imagined leading the girl into the living room, which had a large window that looked out over the central hall where lights glittered in the fountain and people sat around the pond. He imagined whispering her name, her real name, not the name those people who had looked after her for the last seventeen years had given to her. She would look up to him with those dark eyes, so like his. Then he’d tell her all he knew about their kind. He pictured her happy smile.
He had almost lost hope when she had gone missing.
Jessica’s heart hammered. He was talking about her.
A deep silence fell in the kitchen. Children’s laughter drifted in from the hall, where the oldest of Daya’s nieces and nephews were getting ready to go to school. The nanny scolded them; footsteps thudded up the stairs. A door slammed.
His aunt was the first to speak. “What do you mean—you won’t be alone? Daya? Is there a woman?”
Daya shrugged, trying to push away uncomfortable feelings. He wasn’t absolutely sure where the girl was, and his interest in her was not of the nature his aunt imagined.
His aunt harrumphed and thrust the spoon in the pan with a too-loud clang. “You could have told me about this earlier. I’ve been talking to Ennai’s family again. It seems she’s sorry—”
Daya snorted, perhaps with more anger than he intended. He knew his uncle and aunt meant well and he appreciated how they had taken him in, but they didn’t understand what it was like to be zhadya-born, a freak. They didn’t have to put up with the resentment against his high position at the company, the implication that he somehow didn’t deserve it; they didn’t hear the rumours that he was supposedly bending the minds of all the board members to his will—something he couldn’t do, even if he tried. They didn’t hear all the slanderous rumours about him; they didn’t have to pretend not to have heard. They still thought, or hoped, that by entering a contract with a normal girl, he could have a normal life, but it was too late for that.
“I told you I wanted nothing more to do with Ennai. She may say she’s sorry, but that wouldn’t happen to have something to do with my inheritance, would it? She was pretty clear: she wanted children, so she was going to negotiate a contract with another man to—look, why am I even discussing this? I’m no longer interested in her.”
Jessica’s cheeks glowed. Are you interested in me?
His uncle chuckled. “So that’s what all this is about, huh? Daya’s in love. No need to be so mysterious. Who’s the lucky lady and what’s her name?”
“I’ll introduce you when we get here.” And whether it would be that type of relationship remained to be seen. She didn’t know him; he didn’t know her. Not really, after all these years. He shifted nervously. After all the taunting, he wasn’t the type of person who easily opened up to others. Not at all.
A shiver went through Jessica’s mind. Who are you?
But her connection slipped away, like a bright dot of light gliding along the strands of the web. She fought to hold on to it.
No. Stay here. Tell me who you are.
Control slipped further.
“No.” She reached and grabbed Ikay’s hands. “Tell me who you are!”
He didn’t listen. Reality rushed back. The tribe. Thousands of eyes on her, many of them staring. Had they seen the man, too? Did the web connect to him through Ikay?
Images rushed through her mind. A dark cave, long shadows trailing over carved walls. A ceremony. Ikay standing on the beach, surrounded by females from the tribe. In the golden sunlight, she held aloft a bowl with steaming noodles and meat balls inside. She set the bowl down in the sand, and retreated up the beach. Making an offer. Waiting, but no one came.
The strands of the web faded.
People were getting up, yelling and shouting. They whipped their tails, and made frantic gestures with their hands. Avya. That word surged around and around.
Jessica pulled her knees up to her chest, not wanting to be part of the uproar, not wanting to be noticed. She didn’t understand; she wasn’t sure if she wanted to understand.
Something warm and hairy snaked over her shoulders: Ikay’s tail, pulling her closer. She spoke, her old voice soothing, stroked Jessica’s shoulders and caressed her skin.
10
“ANMI.”
Jessica stirred. Something firm and hairy touched her arm. She rolled onto her back. Ouch. The floor under the thin mat was like concrete.
Afternoon light, warm and golden, filtered through a slatted wall, over rough timber floors and rows of humps—thighs, backs, buttocks—on sleeping mats. Arms draped over waists, tails curled around legs, heads of braids with glittering beads, shoulders and backs marked with zebra stripes or leopard spots.
Ikay sat on her knees by the side of her mat, folding a thin sheet and placing it under the pillow.
Jessica struggled to sit up and rubbed her leg muscles. Her head throbbed. Her mouth tasted like raw sewerage.
Ikay got to her feet in a cat-like movement and beckoned. Jessica pushed the thin cover aside. A soft breeze tickled her naked skin, still sticky and greasy from the white and black paint applied to it last night. She rubbed her upper arm, but the stuff was very resilient.
She clambered to her feet, her first steps wooden. Oh, her legs ached.
Now where the hell were her clothes?
Not next to her mat. Not anywhere else between the other mats, or on someone’s body.
Damn it.
And yesterday, she had lost her backpack, too. With her spare clothes, and her first-aid kit, and her rope and tools and everything that might provide proof, however feeble, that she had come from Earth.
She picked up the thin sheet. It was too big to use as sarong, and when she folded it over, it was too short.
Double damn it.
Well, bugger that. Everyone went in their birthday suits here, so apart from the usual stares, she wasn’t going to attract attention for not having clothes on. She flung the cloth down. Never mind that if ever she got back home she’d need clothes. Lucky it was late spring in Australia, huh? Not too cold. Summer on the way. Why worry about walking in the nuddy when there was that little problem about how she was going to get back in the first place? Her eyes pricked.
She joined Ikay on a ramp which led from the sleeping gallery into the large hall. There was a silent throng of striped
bodies on the other side of the floor. A smell reminiscent of porridge drifted from a steaming pot from which a young boy scooped long white things into bowls. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and every now and then he yawned, showing his rodent-like teeth. Well, look at that. These Pengali were a lot like people—they got hangovers, too.
Ikay pressed a bowl into Jessica’s hands.
The white things were noodles, bluish and slightly transparent. They were slippery like wet spaghetti and kept escaping the small tongs Jessica was given to eat them with.
Ikay’s fighting Amazons were already eating. Alla wolfed her food down and then took her knife from her belt, and proceeded to clean her nails while sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back straight as a cattle prod. Her black hair in tight braids glistened with oil. A single drop ran down her forehead.
Maire ate much more slowly, droopy-eyed and slumped over her bowl. Every time she yawned, which she did a lot, a teardrop formed in the corner of her left eye. Eventually, it grew so big it ran down her cheek. Alla scowled at her.
If Jessica closed her eyes, she could hear the deep drumbeats and see Maire in the heaving mass of bodies clutching the waist of some young male. The smell of Pengali male sweat—fishy and stale—still lingered in her nose and so did the pungent stench of Pengali urine and semen, or both. By the end of the long night, most Pengali had been drunk and all over each other, cheering and whistling at bestial grunts of males having their way with females, watched and cheered on by the entire tribe. All night, Jessica had remained as close to Ikay as she could, until the light outside grew blue and everyone retired to the sleeping galleries.
A soft breath of air tickled her skin. Dora had come up next to her. In her arms, wedged against her stomach, she carried a basket of woven reeds from which drifted the smell of spiced meat.
Alla and Maire climbed to their feet, Maire with much groaning, which earned her another scowl from Alla.
It seemed they were going somewhere. Frankly, anywhere would do, as long as she didn’t have to attend another orgy. She followed Ikay and her Amazons out the entrance, past the guards into the forest.
Golden afternoon light tinted everything yellow. Animals buzzed in the trees.
Jessica followed, her steps clumsy. Her feet were too soft to walk on the leaf litter of the forest floor. Every muscle in her body screamed its protest. Leaves and branches brushed against her naked skin. Her eyes pricked with fatigue and tears of frustration. She felt so helpless. With the bushwalking and abseiling and canoeing she did with school, she thought her bush survival skills were good, but what was she without clothes, without shoes and without regular food, all those things humans of the 21st century took for granted? It would take her weeks to build up enough energy and skill to even contemplate leaving the tribe if they let her.
They arrived at the beach. The sand was soft under her feet, still warm from the day’s heat. The smell of fish wafted from the drying racks, mingled with the more gentle whiff of mud and the ever-present minty smell.
The suns hung low over the horizon, cloaking the opposite bank in a glow of gold.
A number of boats lay in the water. Young females hauled baskets with brown lumpy things up the beach. Others had collected nets of white waxy flowers, which floated in a string behind one of the boats.
A whistle echoed over the water. Another boat had rounded the bend into the lagoon. The occupants, three older females, all pushed off the bottom with sticks. A couple of younger females on the beach set down their loads and helped the boat ashore. Tied at the back hung the biggest fish Jessica had ever seen. It was an eel-like creature, its skin dark green. The pointed head sported formidable jaws, dagger-like teeth poking out at odd angles. It stared into nothingness out of a lifeless eye, the pupil slitted like a cat’s. It was at least twice as long as the boat.
And she had been so stupid to think that she could swim to the island city? If these things lived in the water, that sounded like an exceedingly stupid idea. Another avenue for escape cut off.
Jessica started when Dora touched her shoulder.
Ikay sat in the bottom of a canoe at the water’s edge. Alla waited on the beach, the stick in her hand, and Maire held the bow, standing in knee-deep water. Maybe they were taking her to the city after all. Oh hell, she hoped so.
As the boat glided across the lagoon, again with Dora pushing, Jessica looked over her shoulder. The females on the beach had all produced glass knives and were cutting the skin from the eel, peeling it away from the white flesh.
The canoe rounded the bend, bringing the solar plant into view, its “eyes” dark and lifeless now the suns had dipped below the horizon. Like yesterday, a line of boats lay in the water, all filled up with bags. A female with a stick sat in each boat. More still stood on the muddy beach, shouting and whistling at the Amazons. Tails waved and cracked like whips, communicating their wordless signs.
Hello, where are you guys going?
We’re taking this weird creature back to where she belongs.
Something like that.
But as soon as the current carried the boat out of the river mouth, Dora steered the boat into the reeds, into the harsh clattering noise and the overwhelming scent of mint.
“Hey, I want to go that way.” Jessica pointed at the island, which poked out of the mist on the horizon.
Ikay pushed down her outstretched arm. “Poh-poh-poh-poh.”
The boat moved swiftly parallel to the escarpment, away from the island.
Jessica balled her fists in her lap, burning with frustration. Tonight when there is another party, I’ll sneak out, find some way of distracting the guards, steal a boat. I’ve got to get out of here.
For a long time, she stared at the bottom of the canoe, thinking of ways to get past the sentries at the entrance to the settlement, how she would retrieve her backpack, and climb back up the cliff to look for Brian.
Light turned grey and then blue. The air cooled and softened. A blue haze, heavy with mint, settled over the water. The clattering noise in the reeds faltered and then stopped. After the monotonous racket, silence was painful.
Dora’s stick splashed in a slow rhythm. Maire and Alla spoke in soft voices. The boat rocked; reeds brushed against the sides.
Jessica rested her head on her knees.
Water splashed in Jessica’s face. With a jerk, she lifted her head off her knees.
And stared into a landscape cloaked in darkness. A small, red-tinged moon hung almost directly overhead, casting eerie golden light over the water. Beds of reeds showed up like patches of black.
Moonlight hit the beach barely a hundred metres ahead. Behind it, the cliff towered into the night sky, a wall of sheer rock turned dark brown in the reddish light. Bushes clung to the cliff face like bits of black cotton wool. To the right, a white cloud hung over a copse of trees, moving and billowing like a ghost. Thumps and hisses coming from that direction suggested there was a geyser behind the trees. Behind the boat, the marshland vanished in the darkness. Pinpricks of light shone on the island, now even further than it had been when they left the tribe’s settlement.
They were moving towards the shore. Ikay pointed and spoke a few words. Moonlight edged her white hair in a reddish glow. Jessica couldn’t see her face, but her eyes glinted with alertness.
Dora’s back bobbed up and down with each push of the stick. They were going through a thick patch of reeds, which made for hard going. The stems scraped the bottom and sides of the boat. Maire pulled handfuls of stems to help the boat along.
They were very close to the beach now. Directly ahead, a cleft in the rock face of the escarpment showed up like a black stripe, the mouth hardly wider than one metre. In that place, there was no beach and the reed field led right up to it, although Alla and Maire had to get out of the boat to push it across.
The boat slid into the gorge, dark and silent, past rock walls close enough to touch. Every breath sounded a hundred times magnified. The passage opened out in
to a small lagoon surrounded by sheer rock walls. Moonlight slanted onto the rock to their left and the water just at its base. The rest of the lagoon bathed in ink-black shade. A group of insect-like animals, about the size of a thumb, detached themselves from the surface of the water. With startled splashing, they flew up into the sky, their wings glittering in the moonlight, and transparent, like a dragonfly’s. When their flapping had died away, only the sound of rippling water past the bow of the canoe disturbed the silence.
A shiver crept up Jessica’s back.
What the hell were they doing here in the middle of the night?
The canoe bumped into a beach of large smooth boulders. Alla jumped out and pulled the stern up with a dull scraping. Jessica stepped out of the boat, straightening her stiff legs.
Maire and Dora carried the basket up the steep incline and set it down in the moonlight, at what looked like the mouth of a cave. Heaving a sigh, Dora sank down on a rock and leaned against the cliff face, the pushing stick still in her hand.
Sure, it was rude to stare, but Jessica had never seen anyone pregnant up close, let alone naked and pregnant. She had dispensed even with her belt. Grey skin stretched over the bulge in her belly, a flat bellybutton just under the widest point.
Dora met Jessica’s eyes. She reached out and laid Jessica’s hand, palm flat, on the top of the bulge. Her skin was warm and slick with oil. Something moved inside. A knee or a heel or an elbow. It felt quite big.
There was a memory, unbidden: a sweaty-faced woman reclined on pillows in a white bed, the camera directed ungraciously between her pulled-up legs. A gush of fluid squirted from between masses of dark curly hair. A pink rim of skin stretched to show this massive black slippery thing, then the squashed face and grey skin of the baby emerging from her body. Jessica shivered. Why had their biology teacher thought the girls would benefit from seeing that? The memory of the woman’s howls still gave her the creeps.
Dora spoke a few soft words and placed her hand in the same spot on Jessica’s stomach. Goosebumps spread all over her body. She also remembered the woman’s tears of happiness at holding her newborn son, and the reporter’s question: would you do it again? To which she answered, without hesitation: yes.