“A hawk is a bird, too,” Sky reminded him. “Like that picture on your jacket.”
“Hawk! Come see this,” Tray hollered, his voice floating from above.
Douglas scanned the branches until the rustling leaves gave away Tray’s position. Hoisting himself onto the lower branches, he navigated the densely packed tree limbs. Even under his and Tray’s combined weight, the sturdy limbs barely bowed. Tray pointed to one of the higher limbs and Douglas moved carefully, hugging the trunk of the tree so he could see around without disturbing the branch.
A basket! Sitting on the branch, he saw twigs intricately woven, like wreathes children made for their parents. There were four speckled stones in the nest; they looked valuable. Pulling off one glove, he touched one of the stones.
“It’s warm,” Douglas said, wondering at the power source. Tray beamed proudly and Douglas realized that the warm stones were not a mystery to Tray.
“This is where birds are born. They hatch from eggs like these,” Tray explained. Douglas’ lips parted as he processed. He thought of all the things in his life he’d described as egg shaped, and now he saw a natural egg! Tray reached into the nest, scooping up one of the eggs in his hand. “Should be tasty.”
“You’re going to eat the bird!” Douglas exclaimed, so shocked he nearly fell off the branch.
“We’re here to find food. We have to take what we can get,” Tray shrugged, scooping up another egg and calling to Saskia.
“No. Put them back. Put them back!” Douglas cried, jumping onto Tray’s branch, trying to come between him and the nest. With the two eggs in hand, Tray walked out on the branch, perfectly balanced despite the jagged shape. Every step felt shaky now, but Douglas wanted the eggs back in the nest. He swiped at Tray, grabbing him around the waist, but then lost his balance and had to let go. Dropping to his knees, Douglas grabbed Tray’s ankle. Tray wobbled and swore, and then one of the eggs fell. Time slowed. Douglas dove off the branch to catch the egg, but Tray grabbed him by the belt. The egg hit the ground and broke.
“No!” Douglas screamed. The cracked, speckled egg oozed the life essence of the unborn bird.
“Now look what you’ve done!” Tray cried.
Scrambling from the tree, Douglas knelt on the ground next to the broken egg, crying softly. In Rocan, the unborn died all the time. It was supposed to be different out here—there was supposed to be a cure.
Curling his arm protectively around the fallen egg, Douglas pulled back the broken shell to see the baby bird. Its black body was curled around, it’s little clawed feet perfectly formed. He touched the wet skin, marveling at the feel. These were not how he’d imagined feathers to look.
“Glad to see you all hard at work,” Danny said dryly, nudging Douglas with his boot. “Hawk, get your gloves on.”
“I found us some eggs,” Tray said, climbing out of the tree, the last three eggs in his hand. I should have waited—should have saved them when Tray had his back turned.
“He killed the bird,” Douglas said, breaking off more of the shell. The unborn bird unfolded and rolled into his hand, its little chest failing to rise and fall. When Danny squatted next to him, Douglas showed him the bird.
“These look a little far along for scrambling, Tray,” Danny commented, running his gloved finger over the bird’s beak.
“I’m sure we’ll find some way to make them edible,” Tray shrugged.
“Monsters. You’re monsters!” Douglas screeched, fighting the urge to retch at their callous words. Tray asked this little one to sacrifice its life with no supplication to the gods and no acknowledgment of its worth. Even the unnamed in Rocan were numbered.
“We’re not monsters; we’re just a part of the ecosystem,” Danny said. “Hawk, put down that bird and put your gloves on!”
“The trees don’t sing in Rocan because no one cared when the birds died,” Hawk whispered, petting the wet feathers. The bird was getting cold fast.
Myung. When Don had asked him what he would have named his first child, he gave her his father’s name. The old names of the goldens had fallen into disuse in Rocan, but since she was stillborn and her name could never be spoken out loud, she was the only one who could carry it with honor. He saw her tiny body discarded in the mass grave, her transparent eyelids masking dark black unformed eyes, just like this little bird’s.
“You named the bird?” Danny asked.
Douglas froze. He’d been whispering the name of his daughter.
Danny pulled a knife and Douglas tensed. The blade was being offered to him. He wants me to cut the bird? Scooting back, Douglas turned, holding his little bird protectively. Danny tapped his shoulder with the hilt of the blade.
“Take this and carve your bird’s name into the trunk of the tree, bury your bird, and say good-bye,” Danny said gently. “We will leave her to the earth, like we did with Corey.”
“She didn’t live long enough to be given a name,” Douglas said, closing his eyes. He wasn’t talking about the bird.
“She lived long enough to be remembered and I don’t want you carrying this grief onto my ship. You have five seconds before I change my mind.”
Douglas accepted the knife. It didn’t seem right that this little bird would be remembered openly, and his first child would lie unnamed. Digging into the soil with the knife, Douglas made a shallow grave for the bird and laid it to rest. There would be no eulogy or service of remembrance like they’d had for Corey. For a bird, it wasn’t necessary. For his daughter, it would have been nice.
“I will never forget you, Myung,” he whispered, carving her name into the trunk of the tree like Danny had told him. His throat tightened when he spoke her name out loud.
“Good-bye, darling.”
Fox Run looked just as Sky remembered it and being here again made her nervous. There were signs of multiple nomadic tribes passing through the land—broken branches, berry bushes picked dry. If the Drava had survived their Seer, they should be a good fifty miles south this early in the season, but they may still have scouts, thieves, and ambassadors in the region. Depending on the path Sidney’s career had taken him, he could be hiding in the forest now, watching her. After twenty-seven years, he was probably married with children and grandchildren. Or he could be dead. All the Drava could be, if their Seer’s spirit had had its way. Sky wasn’t saddened by the thought. She’d been treated cruelly by cities that had learned she carried Spirit and she didn’t think any were worthy of mercy. Sidney had talked of gouging that woman’s eyes out, like it was a favor. For years, she’d thought him right. But when she stood next to John in Rocan, Spirit quieted, and she’d been alone with her own thoughts for the first time since she was sixteen. Sky was not lost. Spirit shared her; it did not replace her.
The leaves rustled and Sky jumped, drawing her grav-gun. If the Drava had scouts in the area, they’d be young and they would not know her. Even the elders wouldn’t expect to see her so well preserved. Spirit kept her vital. In the last thirty years, she’d barely aged five.
“You’re a little jumpy,” Saskia commented, coming beside Sky, her stunner drawn, prepared to fight if danger emerged. “Are there wild animals here you neglected to warn us about?”
“I did warn you about the turkeys. I think we’ve made enough noise to ward them off, what with Hawk getting all hysterical about the eggs,” Sky said.
“Let’s work quickly before they forget why they’re hiding,” Saskia said, trading her stunner for a wide blade knife and kneeling on the ground. She rummaged through a patch of wide-leaved plants, digging roots from the ground.
“The purple ones aren’t poison, but they taste nasty,” Sky said, squatting next to her and using a knife to part the dirt. The roots were some kind of radish or potato—perhaps a cross between the two. “I think I remember where the berries are. I’ll meet you back at the ship,” Sky said, turning into the forest.
Saskia grabbed Sky’s elbow and yanked her backward. Sky’s hand was on her grav-gun the mome
nt she felt Saskia’s stunner in her back.
“Captain said we work together,” Saskia said, her voice low and threatening. “That means you work.”
Spirit bubbled with delight causing Sky’s stomach to churn. It was an idle threat, though—a warning. Oriana was a smuggling ship, and the Matthews brothers’ fingers probably dug deep into the black market. Sky had no idea what someone would pay for a Seer’s eyes, but she could not trust the crew with her secret. Knowing was more likely to kill them than curse them.
“Hawk will appreciate the blackberries. He and Amanda are living off berries right now,” Sky said. “The moons rise late tonight. I want to be back on the ship before twilight ends.”
“Are you afraid of the dark?” Saskia taunted, holstering her weapon and giving Sky a shove. Sky would have pistol-whipped her just to shut her up, but being in Fox Run alone was too creepy, and she didn’t want to draw attention.
5
Laos shifted in Brishen’s arms, trying to get comfortable on the low tree-branch where they hid. Her new Occ itched on her brow, but it allowed her eyes to adjust easily to the darkness, enhancing the outline of any moving heat source. They’d moved three times to avoid being seen by the exploring intruders and the scouts from other tribes. Brishen was stealthy and silent when he wanted to be, and he hadn’t said a word since they’d left the borders of the Drava camp. She wanted to stay up all night talking to him, but she knew he didn’t want to talk. Out here, they had an excuse to stay in each other’s company without speaking.
The temperature had dropped, and the breeze cut right through her clothes, though not through the warmth of Brishen’s embrace. Nestling against him, she wiped her damp cheek on his sleeve and pulled his arms around her. She’d been breaking into tears spontaneously every time she thought about what the Nayak had done to him. She didn’t know if he’d ever talk about it again and a part of her wished he hadn’t told her.
Sighing, Brishen leaned against the trunk of the tree and pulled Laos against him. It was a more comfortable position, but the way she was angled, she couldn’t watch the airship. For the moment, it didn’t matter. The vessel glowed with artificial light and her eyes needed a break. As she adjusted to the darkness, she could see a few stars peeking through the tree canopy. Brishen’s fingers laced with hers.
“Are you comfortable?” he whispered.
Laos sniffled. She could have fallen asleep in his arms, but the fact that he’d asked told her that he wasn’t. It was probably cruel to be snuggling on him after she’d rejected his proposal. She could tell herself it wasn’t a rejection, but it wasn’t a yes.
“Let’s walk a circuit,” she whispered back. Sitting forward, she closed her eyes and waited for her head to clear. All that crying had given her a headache. She felt Brishen move behind her, swinging off the branch. He tapped her leg and offered her a hand down.
Laos shook her head and smiled. Her knee wasn’t hurting anymore and she wanted things to be normal between them again. He wrinkled his nose and walked away. Things were as normal as they’d get tonight. Gripping the branch with both hands, Laos took a breath to steady herself, then swung down to the ground. Her feet hit hard and her knee had gone stiff from sitting so long, but the shock passed quickly.
Skipping past him, she broke the tree line, standing in open view of the visiting ship. Brishen took her hand, but rather than pulling her back under cover, he came beside her. Insects swarmed toward the ship’s light, their motion creating strange shadows across the lakebed. The rising water level made the soil soggy, and Laos stuck to the rocks so she wouldn’t lose another shoe. Her Occ illuminated a safe path based on the density of the rocks, but it couldn’t tell her which ones would wobble when she stepped on them.
The ship’s back door opened and Brishen dove to the ground, tackling Laos with him. A pale woman emerged from the vessel, cloaked in a plain, yellow robe. Her tangled, brown hair wafted in the breeze.
“She’s not dressed like the others,” Laos said, shifting onto her knees to get a better look. The others who were in the forest wore pants like hunters and scouts. It was difficult to tell given the way the woman was silhouetted, but by her robe she may have been a Trade Ambassador.
“She’s probably concerned about them being out so late,” Brishen surmised.
“Something isn’t right with her,” Laos murmured, standing slowly, her body tense. Her Occ picked up the way the woman’s body temperature increased, but Laos squinted to reset the night vision without the surplus data. She wanted to see the woman’s face.
The woman was searching for something, counting paces and turning, like she was trying to remember the way to a buried treasure. Her feet kept sinking and she’d cry out with no consideration of who might hear. Gusts of wind, babbling rivers, and the buzzing sounds of the insects masked her cries. Though Laos wanted to run, she took a few steps out of the shadows, reaching out her hand like she was approaching a skittish pet.
“Hello—”
The woman screeched, drawing a knife and slashing at the air. Brishen grabbed Laos, pulling her into the safety of the brush. The stickers caught her clothing scratching her skin, and Brishen’s hand clamped over her mouth. Laos cried out, struggling to get free, but he wouldn’t let go. He rolled them out of the sticker bush and crouched with her behind a tree.
“How did you ever get to be a Chief Scout?” he hissed.
Peeking out, they saw the woman staring at the place Laos had just been. They had been spotted. The woman stood on tip-toes, then squatted, her eyes never leaving the spot. She never came closer to investigate A few minutes later, she went back to counting paces, and turning at right angles. There were no shoes on her feet. She wasn’t a Trade Ambassador.
It was less than two hours before twilight faded and the night chill set in. Danny’s gloves were soaked from the mud, and his fingers were going numb. Living off the land was more poetic in history books, where the food was plentiful, and the company pleasant. Danny’s food crate was less than a quarter full and he was ready to tear his hair out—or tear Tray’s hair out. Tray had been tormenting Hawk all evening, talking about every living creature as a potential food source. Normally, Danny would have been amused by the trivia, but it was making Hawk sick and Tray didn’t seem to care. When he threatened to drop a bug down Hawk’s collar, Danny had to intervene. Danny’s throat was sore from yelling at the pair of them—telling Tray to shut up and Hawk to keep his gloves on. Wrangling those two made Danny regret the trouble he’d caused his mother growing up. Even now, Danny was biting his tongue and praying hard to keep from unleashing threats of corporal punishment.
“Uh oh,” Tray murmured.
Danny prayed harder, not liking the tone in his brother’s voice.
“Whoa!” Hawk exclaimed.
The ground was soggy in the lakebed where Oriana was parked, with almost a half inch of standing water pooling at their feet. The work lights Saskia had set up were almost completely obscured by swarms of beetles and moths flying around them and crawling over the hull of the ship. The netting by the back door had collapsed, and bugs crawled over the small porthole on the airlock’s inset door.
“Flashlights off,” Danny ordered, shutting down his light and his Virp before the bugs swarmed toward him.
“You had to leave the lights on, didn’t you?” Sky complained, trudging out of the woods. “Oh, and look who’s up and walking around!”
Sky pointed into the shadows and Danny swore.
“Amanda!” he shouted, shifting the food crate to his hip and jogging to her. He caught her mid-stride and she plowed into his shoulder, like a malfunctioning robot repeatedly hitting the same wall. Her body was quivering and her face dripping with sweat. “Let’s get inside!”
“How?” Tray asked, pointing to the fallen net and the swarm.
“Fly swatter,” Sky said, drawing her grav-gun, and sending a sweeping blast over the hull. Every creature in the path of the invisible beam either fell out of the air
or had its remains splattered against the hull of the ship. The air filled with the buzz of insect wings as the remaining swarm took flight.
“That’ll be fun to clean,” Tray sighed, making a run for the door.
Danny herded Amanda inside, trying to be gentle so she wouldn’t fall. She never lasted long on her feet and by the feel of it, she’d been pacing a long while.
“Saskia, I need the blood pressure meds,” he said, dropping his food crate as soon as he was through the airlock. Amanda’s gaze shifted side to side, never finding focus. The backs of her hands were covered with scratches, but nothing was bleeding. Her bare legs were coated up to the knee in mud. Her face was red and her heart pounding so hard he could see the veins throbbing on her neck and face.
“Did you cut yourself?” he asked her, trying to guide her under the catwalk where Sky had hidden a plush reclining chair. Amanda wouldn’t budge.
“The raspberry bush has stickers,” she answered, her words slurred, her head dropping to one side.
“The ones by the tree line?” Sky interrupted. “Those aren’t raspberries. You didn’t eat those, did you?”
“Stickers!” Amanda shouted at Sky, shoving the other woman with all her might and nearly falling over backward. With a cry of anguish, Amanda pressed the heels of her muddy hands to her forehead and started pacing again.
Hooking her elbow, Danny snapped her body against his. “Hey, stop. Sit down.”
Amanda kicked his shin, and marched in place, her body shaking, like she was powerless to control her actions.
“Are the thorns poisonous?” Danny asked Sky.
“Just the berries,” Sky said. “This crazy is all her.”
“Captain,” Saskia said, returning with a loaded syringe. They’d been fortunate that the doctors in Rocan had medicine to treat Amanda’s over-taxed heart. Living so many years with low gravity, the muscle was weakly developed. Danny preferred to think of their newly acquired medicine as borrowed rather than stolen. He hoped the indiscretion would be overlooked when they returned to Rocan with newer, better meds.
Trade Circle: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 3) Page 4