Third Don: Ardulum, #3

by J. S. Fields

  Not my people, Atalant thought to herself, careful to keep the words from leaking telepathically. Her mind wandered to the Neek homeworld. She thought of her remaining parents, her father and talther, and her growing up in a home made by their hands. She thought of her brother who had encouraged her to question, who had taken her to her first political and anti-Ardulum rallies, and of her uncle, the High Priest of Neek. She thought of the smell of the trillium undergrowth in the fields near her uncle’s andal plantations. She thought of the Neek president and swallowed bile. My people exiled me for claiming Ardulum didn’t exist, for questioning the old religion. I ran from an impossible planet only to become its ruler, and here I sit in gold robes, more apart from my people than I have ever been before.

  A COOL HAND on her shoulder woke Atalant. She pulled her face from the pillow, wet with her sweat and stuk, and turned to the Ardulan woman sitting next to her on the bed.

  Though their position relative to the Eiean sun meant Ardulum was now more temperate than tropical, the evenings were still hot enough to be sticky. Atalant had tossed her cumbersome robes and purple sash to the floor the moment she’d entered their room, and while the warm breeze from the window did not bring relief, Emn’s presence did.

  The younger woman, now solidly into her second don, was dressed in a black flight suit zipped up to her chin. The gloves she’d taken to wearing when in public weren’t on, however, and on her hands, Atalant could see the beginnings of the geometric designs that covered her entire body. Emn’s skin was translucent, like that of all Ardulans, but pale, which made the contrast with the darkened veins that much more striking. Atalant wished, as she did most nights, that there was more time in the day. More time, especially, with Emn, so that she could explore every unique line, whether it was on her hand, her neck, or…

  Atalant pulled her thoughts back before they went too far. It wasn’t fair. She had spent a lifetime running from Ardulum, months running from Emn, and now that they were here, and…together in the heat of dusk, it was frustrating that they’d still not managed anything past kissing.

  Emn smiled as Atalant’s thoughts filtered across their mental link. She tucked a strand of Atalant’s strawberry-blonde hair back into her braid and then trailed a finger over her jawline. Atalant caught the finger in her hand and brought it to her mouth, kissing the tip. Maybe this could be the night. She wasn’t too overtired, and Emn hadn’t simply hit the bed and nodded off. Assuming Emn didn’t have something pressing on her mind, maybe…

  “Arik said the Eieans will allow planting. Your meetings are paying off.”

  Atalant caught the subtle undercurrent. Wisps of loneliness, desire, and otherness traced across the connection. Damn. She sat up and pulled Emn closer, tugging at the sleeve of the flight suit as she did so. Talking it was, then. Not kissing. Atalant understood why, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t disappointed.

  “Just on the primary moon, which is probably the safest place for the andal, given what we know of its tendency to dominate ecosystems. We’ll try our best to keep the andal contained. The trick will be convincing Ardulum that the moon is enough,” Atalant admitted as Emn settled against her. “Is it still so bad out there that you have to keep wearing this?” She brushed her fingers over Emn’s collar and then toyed with the clasp. “Is it not getting at least a little better?”

  There’s a lot of unrest right now, Eld. The people want to see their leaders, but you and Eld Arik are perpetually with the Eieans. No one wants to see the flares, not after what happened at the capital.

  The formality of Emn’s words butted against the intimacy of the telepathy. Scattered images from just before Ardulum’s relocation played across the link: the flares, led by Arik, storming the palace; the destruction of the marketplace; the death of merchants, shoppers, and entire families as the flares grew desperate for cellulose and pulled it from the bodies around them.

  Atalant could still smell that day. It was a scent she had not been able to get out of Asth’s—the previous female eld’s—robes. She’d had new ones made. Regardless, the smell lingered in her nose—the smell of intestines and drying blood. It seemed that no matter how much she worked with Corccinth to reintegrate the hidden flares back into Ardulan society, no matter how many speeches she gave about the importance of flare acceptance, the people were not ready to forgive. So, Emn covered her marks and had to live ashamed of who she was and what she looked like on a planet that should have been her home.

  Atalant needed to devote more time to healing the rifts between the Ardulan people, but she couldn’t just let Ardulum run over another planet in the interim. There were so many demands on Atalant’s time! She needed to find the third eld, now and fast. Arik was helpful, but he was not yet into his third don and—while the andal had allowed him a modicum of his secondary Talent after the move—he was neither mentally nor physically ready to fully lead. And, as Arik had so blatantly pointed out, Atalant was a subspecies—not an Ardulan at all, unless you wanted to get specific with genetics. She didn’t have the influence needed to impact public opinion, not even with the backing of the planet.

  Emn would have made an ideal eld. She could have used her tremendous abilities to repair the capital city, to ease some of the burden on Atalant and Arik. The Ardulan people, however, would not tolerate her involvement. Not after what had happened. Arik was probably only tolerated because his flare markings had burned off in the move. Emn didn’t have to be an eld to help, but even Atalant’s attempts to bring Emn into the Eld council meetings had been met with resistance. The opinion of the masses was clear. Flares could not be trusted, no matter what Atalant, their female eld representative, said to the contrary. No matter how incredible Emn’s abilities were.

  Atalant pulled back. Emn had not turned on the electricity upon entering, but the light from the moons was strong enough for Atalant to see the dark semicircles under Emn’s eyes and, just beneath those, the triangular markings that no clothing could hide. Emn had cut her hair short—Atalant couldn’t remember exactly when—and even with the collar of the flight suit turned up as high as it could go, the markings on her neck still poked through. She was thinner, too. Atalant hadn’t noticed the progression. She’d been too wrapped up in negotiations with Eie and Ardulan politics. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen Emn—this wasn’t like her self-imposed isolation on the Mmnnuggl pod. There just never seemed to be enough time in the day, and the compounded exhaustion from weeks of talking andal and sporulating fungi and misfiring Talents sent Atalant collapsing into bed each night instead of working on her relationship with Emn.

  Emn leaned into Atalant’s shoulder, and the older woman wrapped her in an embrace. I’m sorry, Emn. I’ve been so busy trying to prevent another Neek or Keft that I haven’t been paying enough attention to the flare situation. Or us. Or you. I’ll give another talk tomorrow, okay? After the planting. The words sounded hollow, Atalant knew. Likely tomorrow, another issue with the Eieans would arise, and Atalant would have to deal with it. Then, something else would come up, followed by another emergency something, and then the day would be done.

  I would appreciate that, but I’d be happy just to have some uninterrupted time with you, Emn responded. She pulled them down onto their sides and tugged Atalant closer. I miss you.

  You have me here. Atalant traced a finger across Emn’s temple.

  I have to share you there, too, with Arik and millions of andal trees.

  It hadn’t occurred to Atalant that Emn could hear beyond their perpetual connection. It was a startling thought. Can you hear them when they talk to me? she asked.

  Emn shook her head and wound her legs through Atalant’s. Only if I really push into your mind. You’d know. But, I can feel your distraction. If I try to talk to you and you’re with them, your presence is…slippery, almost. I can’t seem to get ahold.

  Atalant chided herself. She had to do better than this. Atalant wasn’t the victim here. She wasn’t the outcast anymore. Emn had spent far too
long helping her come to terms with herself, her feelings, her past. She owed Emn more than a few minutes of twilight chitchat every night.

  I’m sorry, Emn.

  Emn smiled at Atalant, leaned forward, and pressed their lips together. The contact was too brief, and Atalant almost whimpered when Emn pulled away and settled back on the pillow. I know. I understand. There will be time to deal with the flares, once the Eieans are calmed and the andal is growing. The flares have waited centuries. They can wait a few more weeks. The smile was back again, the same melancholy one from before. Have you given any thought to where Ardulum might go after Eie?

  An image of Atalant’s homeworld swam into her mind, the blue water and yellow beaches distinct. Atalant pushed the image away and frowned.

  “I thought we were talking about the flares?”

  Emn persisted. “We were, but I’ve been getting images of Neek from you all week. It’s clearly on your mind. It’s time we talked about it. Besides, moving Ardulum might be the fastest way to deal with the Eiean situation. Where better to go?”

  Atalant tilted her head back and regarded Emn. Had she been thinking about her homeworld that frequently? “Why?” she said to both herself and Emn. “Why would Ardulum ever consider going back there?”

  “Because Ardulum listens to the Eld, more or less, and home is where you’ve always wanted to return. The ecosystem is already changed. Andal already grows there. Your people love Ardulum. It would be a safe place to take the planet and a chance for you to see your family.” Emn kissed Atalant’s forehead. “And you know all that. I assume that’s the reason for the constant Neek planet slideshow in my mind.”

  Atalant sighed. “I’m past that. There’s nothing for me on Neek. You’re what I need. You’re what I’ve needed this whole damn time. Took me long enough to see it, but we’re settled now, right? Once I get this Eie thing negotiated—”

  Those must have been the right words because suddenly Emn’s lips were on hers, breasts pushing against her own. Atalant’s thoughts waned, and she melted into the pressure, felt Emn’s tongue brush her lips, encouraged errant hands to trail across her skin. It was a moment in which Atalant wanted to linger. It was a moment where Eie and Ardulum and all the other pressures didn’t exist. It was a moment for just her and Emn, and if the planet would just leave her alone for the evening, they might finally be able to explore what this new relationship of theirs felt like.

  But again, the beaches of her home province flashed across her mind. Atalant clamped down on the image before it filtered across their link, but Emn was already pulling her hand from under Atalant’s shirt, her fingers lingering on sensitive nipples. Emn flipped onto her back and pulled Atalant against her shoulder. Grumbling, Atalant rested her head in the crook of Emn’s neck and lay a hand possessively over the younger woman’s stomach. These moments of intimacy were too rare. This was only the second time Emn’s hand had traveled that far. She didn’t want it to end. Damn her subconscious.

  I dislike this flight suit, Atalant muttered as her stuk absorbed into the rough material. The Ardulans did not refine the andal rayon as much as Charted Systems manufacturers did, and the fabric was full of rough, lumpish slubs.

  If you could find some time for us to be alone and do away with the memories for a few hours, I’m sure I could arrange for my dress to make an appearance. The images that accompanied her statement flushed Atalant’s cheeks.

  Maybe if we met onboard the Scarlet Lucidity, in orbit around Ardulum, where no one could interrupt us and I felt a bit freer… Atalant’s thoughts drifted into that delightful possibility. The Lucidity had soft chairs in the cockpit, wide beds in the quarters, a small bin of andal in case Emn got hungry…

  Andal! Atalant’s priorities came crashing back down around her. The planet caught her wandering and whispered dreams of its own, dreams of saplings in open fields, of thick rains and busy pollinators. The collective consciousness of Ardulum sent a yearning desire for family, for a new place to call home.

  “Home is overrated,” Atalant whispered.

  “I don’t think so. What about your parents, Atalant?” Emn whispered into her ear, misunderstanding Atalant’s words. “Your father and your talther miss you, I’m sure. Your brother is there, waiting to see his sister.” Emn’s lips brushed Atalant’s forehead. “All the things you said at those political rallies, all the times the president cut you down, your exile, your uncle’s teachings… Could you just let all this hang? Can you let the truth, that you worked so hard to uncover, remain a mystery to the rest of your people?”

  Atalant didn’t answer. When Emn didn’t press further, Atalant reached over Emn and lifted the window open to its full height. The sounds of reptiles croaking filled the silence between them. Atalant let the heaviness of her eyelids sink her into drowsy memories. She thought of the Lucidity, berthed and awaiting her return in a suburb of the capital. She thought of the gold robes she now regularly wore, of their similarities to the Heaven Guard robes she had so coveted in her youth. She thought of her brother, his pursuit of andal science over Ardulan religion, his urging her to join the Heaven Guard of Neek. She thought of soil barren from andal plantation farming, the decline of the forests on her homeworld, and the death of the Keft ecosystem. She thought of her uncle, the High Priest of Neek, of his teachings, the holy books, and of what the return of living gods could do for her stagnant planet.

  The sound of Emn’s even breathing relaxed the remaining tightness in Atalant’s shoulders. As she drifted off into sleep, her mind wandered to the possibility: what would it be like for Ardulum to return to the planet Neek? What havoc would the mystic, traveling planet play on her world’s religion? On her family? Would she be welcomed as a hero, or still branded a heretic? Would she be shot on sight? Gold robes of the Eld or gold robes of the Heaven Guard? Did it matter?

  What would it be like for her to come home?

  Chapter 4: Xinar Station, Xinar System

  I suppose Nugels are an acquired taste, like crickets or titha burgers. I’m not saying I’d eat one, mind, just, you know, they’re only moderately annoying once you start hanging out with them and they’re no longer keeping you locked up in a tiny room.

  Salice says hi, by the way. Of course, she doesn’t really say hi, but you know what I mean. Probably going to write more of these stupid messages to you as the days go by. I know you’re dead, but hey, maybe that means you’re reading over my shoulder? How’s the whiskey in Neek heaven? How are the ladies?

  —Discarded biofilm letter found at the main hub of Xinar Station

  DECEMBER 13TH, 2060 CE

  Mmnnuggls trailed after Yorden in tall columns, spinning and chittering. There’d only been the six when he’d left the pod, stacked in one tall column and keeping a respectful distance. As the captain had woven through the throng of beings at the main hub of Xinar Station, the number of spheres had steadily increased. There were plenty of Mmnnuggls at the hub—this was Alliance territory, after all—but he didn’t care for the reason they were following him and Salice. He’d answered all of their damned questions during the approach to the station. They’d given him a fat satchel of sapphires in return and dropped him off at Xinar, as agreed. They needed to get lost. He’d never score a halfway-decent ship with a bunch of beach balls at his back, and he didn’t need their Risalian baggage. He’d had enough of that already.

  Yorden had at least managed to get Salice and himself clothes, finally, from a menagerie store. It reminded him of his friend Chen’s SPACE STUFF!! shop, back at Callis Spaceport in the Systems. It was a place he’d dearly like to see again—Callis, Earth, Mars…the Charted Systems as a whole. Seventy-something was too old to go cavorting about a new set of systems. Yorden was aged, shipless, and ready to curl up in the soft cushioning of his favorite chair in his favorite bar in the northern lowlands of Mars and drown himself in whiskey. He’d first have to get Salice situated, of course—find her a job or something. All of that required a ship, however, which was his fi
rst order of business now that they were clothed.

  The clientele of the hub smelled exactly as fragrant as Yorden expected, and the vendors’ wares—from small, caged animals to fancy weapons and bits of rare stones—were just as illegal in the Charted Systems as they appeared to be in the Alliance. Everything was comforting, delightful, and just the right shade of off-color.

  Salice was now wearing a baggy, gray flight suit that hid her markings. For himself, he’d managed to find what could best be described as a tropical-print muumuu—although the pattern contained what looked more like andal trees than palm trees. Neek would have had a million snide remarks about the shirt-dress thing. Obnoxious forestry appropriation. Body prophylactic. Cheap way to tell beings you’re expecting never to have sex again. Yorden chuckled to himself. Foul language had been one of the few vices left unregulated by the Charted Systems’ peace treaties, with some words almost as valuable as currency. In that area, at least, he and Neek had been very wealthy.

  Reluctantly, Yorden tugged Salice from the narrow sub-hall that housed the menagerie shop into the main area. A quadruped, clearly male, jostled Yorden as they passed by one another. His spiky fur roughly grazed Yorden’s calf, and Yorden rubbed the abraded skin. He thought about calling out something rude, but the being’s head was a meter higher than his, and he preferred to avoid the legs that ended in hock spurs.

  Yorden placed a guiding hand on Salice’s shoulder, which she did not acknowledge, and continued steering them through the crowd. A short, vaguely duck-shaped being that was all the wrong colors for a duck smacked against Salice’s torso. When she failed to give way, it hissed at her and batted her leg with a webbed toe. She huffed at the being.