by DC Bastien
"I don't know. Perhaps nothing."
"...so you're being paranoid because...?"
"Because that's what we do. Information is power, my dear."
"I thought that was money."
"With money you can buy information, with information you can sell for money. It is one endless cycle."
Kre was enjoying watching the exchange, truth be told. Hleen had such a penchant for debate and banter, though they would often reel it in around other races. She'd seen Biann and Saidhe bicker before, but never seen Biann go toe to toe with someone like Nessin.
"Well, we ain't in the market."
"Everyone is in the market. They just don't know their place."
Biann clucked her teeth. "Then pay up."
"Oh?"
"We gave you information. So what do we get in return?"
"I hardly think--"
"Biann is right," Kre said, rejoining the conversation. "We told you what we're here for, and in return, you owe us something."
"Something other than rescue from that dive you were in?" The Hleen waved at the room, the expensive tiles and the deep pool. "You're my guests here. For as long as you need."
"Which is very kind of you," Kre agreed, "...but we want something else."
"Which is?"
"Our friends."
Her violet eyes danced with delight, then. "Now we're getting somewhere."
***
[Sianor: It came! It came!]
[Ashroe: You rubbed it hard enough?]
[Sianor: You sick puppy, I wasn't talking about my lady-bits.]
[Ashroe: Damn. Okay, continue.]
[Sianor: My PRESENT.]
[Ashroe: Ooh. Have you opened it?]
[Sianor: It's not Christmas!]
[Ashroe: I repeat: have you opened it?]
[Sianor: No. Do you want me to? I normally wait.]
[Ashroe: Stronger willpower than me, then. You can be keeper of the cookie jar in the relationship. Wait - no - you might deny me biscuits.]
[Sianor: Are you all ready for Christmas?]
[Ashroe: Do you mean: 'Are you filled with a deep and seething hatred of the mix-tape playing everywhere, a nausea when confronted with endless gingerbread and egg-nog flavoured foodstuffs, and an allergy to the colours red, white and green'?]
[Sianor: So you are ready!]
[Ashroe: I am.]
[Sianor: What about your family plans? You got them sorted?]
[Ashroe: I do. I am the Responsible Bearer of Crackers. And alcohol. My contribution is explosions and booze. Although I will also be bringing batteries to furnish my nephews and nieces with. In case their parents lie that they don't have any for the noisy, blinking, moving toys.]
[Sianor: But... won't they annoy you, too?]
[Ashroe: For a few hours, yes. But then they go home and continue to annoy their parents. Plus, I'll be wasted.]
[Sianor: How old are your nieces and nephews?]
[Ashroe: Between three and thirty-three. No, the eldest is fourteen, it's just that she's in that Terribly Serious Stage. You know, where everything is such a drag and your blood-kin are so embarrassing... Wait. I don't think I ever left that phase.]
[Sianor: All the movies will be out, too. All the Christmas movies.]
[Ashroe: And some of them won't even feature elves! Or... not those kind of elves.]
[Sianor: I... sort of came out. Last night.]
[Ashroe: Whoa, that was a bit left-field.]
[Sianor: I know. Sorry.]
[Ashroe: What happened?]
[Sianor: Well, I was talking to my tutor about plans for the future, and I sort of slipped in that 'my girlfriend' and I were going away together.]
[Ashroe: And? Did they tie you to a stake and threaten to burn you?]
[Sianor: Hahaha. No. They just said: 'Cool, where?']
[Ashroe: And you died a million, billion burning deaths in the micro-seconds between? Yep?]
[Sianor: Yeah. So then I decided maybe I should tell my mom and dad. So I did.]
[Ashroe: And? The suspense is killing me.]
[Sianor: Mom said she's glad I told her at last, and she's thought about it for a while. Dad just said he'd still use a shotgun if you broke my heart, and went back to his paper.]
[Ashroe: Shotgun?]
[Sianor: He doesn't actually have one.]
[Ashroe: No, he probably has a tank.]
[Sianor: Just a little one.]
[Ashroe: Well... you feel better about it?]
[Sianor: I kinda do. I mean, I'm not going to introduce people by shaking their hand and going: Hi, I'm Mandy, I like girls and boys and I'm dating a Brit. But... I'll mention it to people who matter to me.]
[Ashroe: Does this mean I have to tell my parents, too?]
[Sianor: They don't know you're bi?]
[Ashroe: Never really came up. They gave up asking me when I was getting married a long time ago. Probably because I took to cackling madly and declaring myself a Black Widow.]
[Sianor: Oh...]
[Ashroe: You thought an adult would be more sensible about it? Yeah, no. I mean... I doubt they'd be surprised, it just hasn't come up. I'm... I'm not close with my mother. We talk, but... we're just. Different, I guess. I get on more with my dad, and he's happy to just open a beer with you and tell you all about his new friend the squirrel who keeps getting into the bird feeder.]
[Sianor: I'm your dirty little secret!]
[Ashroe: You are! Mind you, my mother never even learned to use the teletext. Her idea of a mobile phone is one that only has numbers on the buttons, not letters.]
[Sianor: And... buttons.]
[Ashroe: Touchscreen? You have to be kidding me. You're lucky if she picks up a voicemail.]
[Sianor: Wow. My mom likes the internet because it has loads of cake recipes on it. She sends me chain emails about kittens.]
[Ashroe: Ahhh. Chain emails still happen?]
[Sianor: Yes, apparently so. I don't know how, but they do.]
[Ashroe: Has she gotten as far as quizzes?]
[Sianor: No! And I'm trying to keep her away from them! Can you imagine? 'What kind of muffin are you?']
[Ashroe: Well, we all know I'm a stud. Or maybe triple chocolate chip.]
[Sianor: This is not an invitation to send me a m-- oh god.]
[Ashroe: Sorry, I'd already found it.]
[Sianor: Please, please, please never tell my mom. Please.]
[Ashroe: What's it worth...?]
***
"We're simple freight-carriers, Nessin," Kre said, warily. "We don't have anything to trade with you."
"Nonsense," she replied, off-hand. "You're the favoured daughter of the leader of a whole race."
"I'm not that Sianar anymore."
"Oh, but you are." Nessin rose, now. She stood in a deliberate shimmy of hips and fabric, and paced closer, moving to stand behind Kre. She put her hands on the mantle around her shoulders, and grasped handfuls of fake fur. "You'll be that Sianar until you die."
"What do you want from me?" Kre asked, her eyes flickering up, her head turning slightly away in a non-aggression gesture. Soft hands grabbed her face and turned it back around, front and centre.
"I want to be on your side, Kre. I want to be your friend. I want an alliance that lasts longer than your father will."
"I'm not going to be the next Za."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Even if you aren't, you'll still have position. You'll still have respect. I like to keep... influential people close."
The hands on her face were hot, and Kre did not like them. Thumbs caressed the join of her jaw, and she wanted to close her teeth around the soft flesh, to shake off the intrusion laced around her neck, trailing over her back. Everything she was screamed bite.
"I see. And if I were to be in your... circle?"
"Then my considerable resources would be on hand to work out who attacked your friends."
Kre couldn't look at Nessin, so she looked at Biann instead. Biann, who looked... angry and hurt. Kre's claws came
out without a second thought, ready to slice into flesh. She didn't even know she'd done it.
Nessin laughed, and stepped back. "Think about it. Sleep on it. I have quarters made up for you both."
She wriggled out of her slip, clad only in a tight bikini, and dived into the fragrant pink water.
Kre stood up at once.
***
[Ashroe: She gives me the creeps. I know that's the point, but it's true.]
[Sianor: Me too. And why is it usually woman who use their sexuality like that?]
[Ashroe: Men use their sexuality to their advantage, too. But... well. It's the traditional gender-role thing. Women try to be all sultry and appealing. Men... Men either try to be the chivalrous gentleman, or the strong protector role.]
[Sianor: And this gets me, if a woman acted like that, all flirty and so on, she'd just be called... well. Brazen, or... or slutty.]
[Ashroe: But if a man did it, someone would be screaming 'rape'. Yeah. Even though a woman's sexual advances can be as off-putting, I can't see any guy actually calling her out on it using the same language. Men don't like to think they could be used.]
[Sianor: Also, I don't like how being sexually sure of yourself comes across so negatively. Yes, I get that there's a time and a place for making overtures, and in the fic so far, Nessin's doing it in a really off way, but... in general.]
[Ashroe: It's because we're all secretly Victorian Catholics. We want to flirt, but we've been told sex is a filthy, dirty thing.]
[Sianor: Can we... can we do a thing?]
[Ashroe: A thing?]
[Sianor: A thing. Like a... fucking about with gender-norms thing.]
[Ashroe: Oh. Sure. Did you have something in mind?]
[Sianor: No. Yes. No. Maybe.]
[Ashroe: Thing me up any time, babe.]
[Sianor: Okay. Although, considering the Roq don't have gender... that might be a good way in.]
[Ashroe: Mmm. Delicious allegorical writing. Slip me an Aesop.]
[Sianor: ...that sounded so much dirtier than it should.]
***
Biann knocked on the adjoining door, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot. She waited until she heard the bolt sliding open, then looked up at her tall friend.
"Hi."
"Is everything alright?"
"Yep. Well. I couldn't sleep. Not... not without the engine sounds. And not worrying about everyone. I know Sianar don't sleep as much as Humans and Hleen do, so..."
Kre waved her in, stepping out of the doorway. Biann had wrapped the comforter around herself, and she shuffled awkwardly in. When Kre sat on the Sianar-styled chair, she bundled herself up into a ball on the floor, smiling sheepishly.
"Sorry. I thought... I thought you wouldn't mind."
"Of course I don't," the chaplain reassured her. "I am also ill at ease, with our friends in danger."
"What's... what do you think's happened?"
Biann watched as Kre's ears flickered again, a subtle gesture of extreme discomfort. She was reminded of Nessin's little speech about information again.
"Honestly, I do not know. We... we have made many enemies, of late. I fear that my presence amongst you has exacerbated matters."
"What? No! Well... maybe. But that ain't your fault, Kre."
"It was not a deliberate move on my part, but I have increased the danger you are all in." She sighed, heavily. "Perhaps it was foolish of me to think I could ever escape my heritage."
"No. Not if it's what you really want. Or... for now. You can change your mind, but you should always do what makes you happy." Biann shuffled her little bundle of Hleen closer, and put her head on Kre's knee. "Does it make you happy?"
"Yes. When we are not being shot at, I greatly enjoy being part of your group. And spreading my teaching. Perhaps I do no good, perhaps no one's life is changed by me visiting them... perhaps I teach someone a trick that saves their life, fifty years from now. I cannot know, I can only hope."
Biann smiled, feeling a claw teasing her bow-strings straight. It was an intimate gesture, one only close friends or family would do. She made a happy little sound and wriggled in closer.
"Would you... talk science to me?"
"Why? You're a competent engineer. In many respects, your field of expertise is vastly superior to my own knowledge."
"I know ships, mostly. You know... theories. And stuff. And you're always so calm and smart. I like listening to you, because you're happy."
"I see. Is there anything you'd like me to tell you about, to... soothe you to sleep?"
"Hmm. Something I kind of know already, but not quite. So I'm not too caught up in focussing on the facts and keeping awake, but I can hear your take on it. A new perspective."
"Alright. The Messenger does not have any conventional weaponry aboard, so it's something you may be less familiar with. Would that be a good topic?"
"Sure would!"
"Very well..."
***
Chapter Thirteen - Mission: Degeneration
Loap was the first to wake up, shortly before dawn. The planet was predominantly Hleen, but the little kolkhoz kept Roq hours.
He left Saidhe still snoring softly and went to the communal eating hall, waiting politely by the door for a patron. Sure enough, one of the older members of the community approached, a flick of his tail inviting Loap to follow.
"Your friend is still asleep?" the Roq asked.
"She had a very tiring day yesterday," Loap explained. "It is to be expected."
"True. You must take her back some food for when she wakes," he offered, formalising the permission.
Loap thanked him, and followed respectfully behind. They went to the big cauldron of simmering grain-stew, dipping in their bowls and scattering on nuts and seeds, before retreating to one side of the tent. Loap had missed this, the rituals of food. He tried to keep some of the traditions intact aboard the ship, but when no one else understood the significance, it was difficult.
They waited in silence for a moment for the meal to cool, taking the opportunity to think positive thoughts about their blessings. Loap waited for his host to eat first, and then followed suit.
"You're Hale, aren't you?" the other asked, as he got to the bottom of his bowl.
"Yes," he replied. "My name is Loap."
"Are you what you smell like?"
"I am. I am the last."
The other Roq grunted, and then lowered his bowl to the floor. "I'm Greach. I had a Hale uncle. He was... an interesting person."
"My clutch often is," Loap agreed. "Sometimes not for the best."
"Well. I never thought I'd hear a zenith be self-deprecating. You been around Hleen too much?"
"No. Hales." Loap flicked his tongue out, and then tilted his head to one side. "Am I welcome here? I know my brood have their history of taking without asking, though I am not like them. I respect the traditions, but I also respect my name. I won't deny who I am, but I won't apologise for it, either."
"Nor should you. Hales got us where we are today, good and bad. And unless you made the decisions yourself, you can't be held accountable for them. You will be held accountable for what you have done, though."
"Naturally."
Greach hummed, low and contemplative, somewhere in his craw. "What have you done? Or would you rather not say over a shared meal?"
It was a little close to the edge of what was acceptable behaviour, and Loap wondered at it. Greach seemed to be a young, but a fully matured mix of chromosomes. He couldn't work out what his makeup was precisely, just which two types of chromosomes he had. He hadn't introduced himself with his familial name, and he'd made slightly gauche comments. He might be doing it to test the waters, to push Loap into tripping, but he doubted that.
"Honestly, I am not sure. I serve on a mixed-crew ship, and we were bringing in diplomatically sealed crates. We were stopped by customs."
"Lawfully?"
"That's the question, isn't it? My Captain didn't seem to think so. We left, t
o make sure we were safe."
"So... you fled from a detention - legal or otherwise - and have not committed any other transgressions knowingly?" Greach's nostrils flared, scenting the air. "Ignorance will not cover all crimes."
"Nor will the authority of my Captain cover all my deeds," Loap agreed. "But we were working on high authority, and protocol was not met." He thought about it for a moment longer, trying to work out how far to go. "We had the legal position of a head of state."
Greach put down his bowl. "I see. Then you're in a very tricky situation, indeed. You'll need the elders to decide."
"I will."
"...I will take the meal to your companion. You must want to see them in private."
He reached out, clasping the other Roq around the wrist gingerly. "That would be very kind of you."
***
Saidhe swatted at the intrusion, grumbling. She had been up much longer yesterday than her normal span of awake hours, and her body was complaining as a result. The light flickering in burned through her eyelids, and her mouth felt dry and horrid.