Veral barely recalled any details from his youth before his first cybernetic implants. It was intentionally engineered in such a way that a cybernetic citizen would feel loyalty first and always to their state. They weren’t meant to remember their families or their past. Veral was fortunate enough that sometimes a memory would rise up and flood his processors with the colors, flavors, and emotions of his youth, but it was always fleeting, and faded before he could even attempt to grasp it.
Yet he’d been aware that it set him apart distinctly, and had led to his eventual rebellion from his homeworld when he realized just how much was taken from him. It was something all Argurma accepted… except him. But he was accustomed to being different and having to hide it among his brethren. Being different was not approved of. He would be seen as malfunctioning, and quarantined by the doctors for testing to root out the source of his malfunction. He kept away from his own to keep his secret and hold onto the memories as best he could when they came.
When he’d held Terri to reduce her stress, one such memory floated to the surface. It seemed to last longer when he touched her and so he’d been loath to release her even after the danger passed. It was a hazy memory of his mother. She’d been holding him in her arms, whispering to him comfortingly as a storm had raged. He could almost recall the tang of fear as lightning flashed through the room, and the warm, solid presence of his mother. So he’d clung to Terri, trying desperately to retain the memory.
Unfortunately, though it had lingered longer than others, it too eventually passed. He didn’t know why he continued to hold the female after that. Perhaps he’d hoped another memory would come.
The memory, however, made the absence of offspring even more noticeable. Offspring meant life, hope, and the continuation of a species. Not all chose to breed, but the creation of offspring was necessary to maintain a healthy population. So far, he’d seen and heard many adult humans. The females he saw less of, but heard and scented them in the camp once he’d been able to identify them. He knew that there were pregnant females, but not one infant or juvenile below the age of adolescence. The absence of young didn’t strike him as particularly consequential until now.
“Why are there no human offspring?”
Terri startled and glanced at him. She lifted one shoulder and her lips twisted as if to smile, but she scented of sadness, belying her expression. He frowned at her, confused as to why she didn’t give the proper expressions for her emotions. She looked away into the distance for a short time before answering.
“It’s been quite a few years since anyone has birthed living babies,” she said at last. “Women get pregnant often enough, especially, I imagine, within the Reaper camp, but no one to my knowledge has been able to carry to term. Hard to say why that is. Perhaps it’s what we’re eating, or our living conditions.” She shook her head and climbed over a fallen wall. He watched her, noting that her face was reddening from the sun at an alarming rate once again before the damaged skin had time to completely slough off. There were creams that some of the other salvagers applied before working in similar environments, but he didn’t carry any on his ship since he did not require them.
“What about you?” she asked, making him jerk so slightly that he doubted she noticed.
“I do not understand your question,” he grumbled, disliking being caught off guard.
She laughed softly. “I mean, do you have any childr—offspring?”
“It is forbidden,” he stated with finality. “I am unmated and unlicensed from the planetary register for donating genetic material.”
Her delicate hairs on her brow arched up at him as her lips twisted with obvious amusement. “Donating genetic material? You don’t give it up directly?”
He scowled at the female at his side. “Give what up? Your words are not precise enough for me to know what you are asking.”
“Uh, you know, make offspring the way nature intended. Male meets female, and they mate and create little offspring naturally.”
He stared at her, aghast. Oh, he knew that was how other species did it, but to suggest that Argurma behave in such a way was absurd. “We are an advanced and enlightened species, superior to most organic species in every way. Our society determined long ago that to manufacture the strongest offspring, mated pairs with a license to do so submit their genetic material.”
“That doesn’t sound fun,” she said. He wasn’t sure if she intended to mock the ways of his people, or if she seriously believed that fun had anything to do with it.
“Reproduction is a serious matter,” he returned shortly. “It is not intended for enjoyment or amusement if one is vested in procreation. Choosing the best genetic samples from the mated pair provides strong, healthy offspring.”
He didn’t miss her incredulous look. “I guess, although that sounds too cold and clinical. As far as I am concerned, children are a blessing regardless of how they come. If I had any, I wouldn’t need them to be the best to love them.”
He snorted suspiciously. “And what if they were flawed in a way that made them different?”
She lifted a shoulder again in what he was beginning to suspect was something between a dismissal and uncertainty, depending on the question. “Then they would be unique.”
Veral cocked his head at her, caught off-guard by her apparent sincerity.
Females of his species would never admit to such feelings even if they had them. A female was to desire strong healthy offspring who would honorably continue her lineage.
He didn’t want to admit to Terri that his mating had failed because the female he was courting learned that his mother had been isolated as malfunctioning and eventually terminated when her emotional compulsions could not be corrected.
Terri kicked a dead lump of plant life out of her way. “Okay then, so offspring are grown in labs for this faulty idea of perfection. Then what? I suppose you have a rigid education and all that. Shit that no one here cares about because we’re too busy surviving.” She paused and scrubbed her hands on her pants. “I can read,” she said. “Not a lot, since my mother died when I was young, but she taught me a little.” She gave him a sidelong glance and smiled humorlessly. “I suppose that would make me even more inferior.”
His vibrissae twitched. “There is no comparison between other races, who do not seek out perfection, and the Argurma. It would not be held against you. We are held to higher standards, which includes education from infancy to produce the best warriors, technicians, and scientists. Sometimes a mated pair feels inclined to rear their offspring to such expectations, but usually Argurma young are raised in age groups for social conditioning and educational purposes. Upon reaching adulthood, it is supplemented with technology that further increases our abilities.”
“Wow,” she said, laughter noticeably lacing her tone. He found the sound intriguing and enjoyed hearing though he suspected that she was mocking him. “I see you didn’t include anything remotely artistic or compassionate in that list. As for it not being held against me, I’m not sure if that is a backhanded compliment or a really shitty xenophobic observation. See? I know a few big words too.”
Terri glared at him for a moment before huffing, her eyes trained on a building just up ahead. Veral followed her attention to the sloping roof of a collapsed building. It appeared to be buckled in the front and rear, blocking off much of the lower level. The ground level, however, was impenetrable stone. His lip curled at the inconvenience, his eyes landing on a collapsed porch and staircase that disappeared under rubble. He lifted his gaze to the level above that and noticed a broken window, leaving a gap far too small for his large frame. He circled around to the back of the building and found the conditions much the same, and all the windows on the main floor just above him were locked firmly in place.
“This house is pretty unusual in Phoenix. Someone must have paid big money to have it rebuilt here,” Terri said as she paced around the building, studying it intently. “We’re going to have to get in the hard way
. The access to the daylight basement and main floor is completely blocked off. Looks like broken window it is!”
He frowned at the back of her head. If she got hurt, he would not be able to go in to pull her out. He opened his mouth to object and remind her of her obligation of assisting him when she suddenly spoke.
“So which group did you belong to?” she asked.
He blinked, blindsided by the question. It didn’t take any substantial guesswork to know what she meant, despite the quick change of subject after their prolonged silence preceding it.
He didn’t look at her as he replied curtly, “I was reared by my mother.”
Terri glanced over at him. “What about your father?”
“My sire provided all the required necessities, but the female rules the domicile. All offspring are attached to her, so when a mated pair decides to rear their young, it is her responsibility and the adult offspring, in the end, will reflect on her line. My mother wished to rear me, and my father yielded to her wish, though he had no desire to take part. It is not an unusual arrangement among Argurma who choose to raise their offspring.”
Turning to face him fully, Terri’s lips dropped in an expression of sadness that he failed to understand. Looking away, she focused on the building, blinking her eyes rapidly. Veral expanded his mandibles, drawing in her complex scent.
The unmistakable wet tang of sadness and a layer of something else undefinable.
“Why are you sad, female?” he demanded with a flare of impatience when she remained silent, her eyes scouting along the perimeter of the building. Although it was reasonable to be attentive to the lay of the area, the scent was lingering, and it disturbed him that she did not attempt to explain it.
Terri turned her eyes on him with annoyance as her lips twisted in displeasure. “Jeez, you’re pushy. If you want to know something, can’t you ask nicely?”
“My query was expedient,” he replied, his brow dropping into a scowl.
She shook her head at him and returned her attention to the roof, her lips tightening. “If you lift me up, I think I can wiggle in through the window and look around to see if there’s anything worth tossing outside to you.”
Not one to be deflected, Veral crossed his arms over his chest and glowered, his lips tightening even as his mandible opened in irritation. When he didn’t reply, Terri glanced over at him and rolled her eyes.
“If you are so set on knowing, then fine, I’ll tell you. That you speak of your father as if his presence was more or less inconsequential makes me miss what I had with my father before the Reapers killed him. He was all I had after my mother died. I’m sad for myself… and for you,” she said quietly.
Veral drew back, his vibrissae puffing out aggressively. He felt both attacked by her soft-spoken admission and destroyed by it. He had seen since leaving Argurumal the way males of other species behaved with their offspring, even among other salvagers who took their families with them. It plucked at something within him that he’d been unable to identify, and yet with this female’s simple declaration, a sense of loss surged within him from nowhere. His processor grappled with it, trying to understand this feeling. He knew anger and pain. He knew something of the bitter humor which got him through many difficult times and vengeance. Loss was the product of an unnecessary attachment.
“I do not require your pity,” he stated. “I do not recall much of my sire, or even my mother in my youth. Such attachments are unnecessary. Mate bonds are the only reasonable and permissible attachment as it guarantees a consistent and stable breeding pair while providing a regular companion for psychological health. That need has not been something our designers have been able to get around, and so our males and females are required to mate when we are young adults.”
She lifted a speculative eyebrow. “That is… disturbing. That’s the nicest thing I can honestly think to say. It seems like a very cold existence, although at least you can have a mate. How old are you, anyway?”
“Not young,” he retorted with a snap of his vibrissae.
“And is your mental health declining?” she asked, a tiny smile playing on her lips.
“No,” he said. He could feel his vibrissae flattening against his skull defensively.
He did not like that this female was bringing so many emotional reactions from him. He desired nothing but his comfort and his wealth. He didn’t need to be hampered with inconvenient emotions.
Her teeth immediately bared in a wide, savage smile. “So there’s no reason not to tell me. Come on,” she coaxed. “How old?”
He growled, willing her to back down despite the kernel of pleasure and admiration at her bold insistence. Her smile became sharper, more like a snarl, and the lines of her face set in determination. His vibrissae flicked humorously and he broke out into a loud chuffing.
“Very well, anastha. I am two hundred fifty-seven.”
Her lips pursed and she whistled through them. “That’s fucking ancient compared to humans. And just how old are your people when you normally mate?”
He grumbled the number under his breath. She leaned forward, a smile curving her lips as her eyes shone humorously.
“I’m sorry… What was that?”
“Eighty-nine planetary revolutions,” he grunted.
The humor in her eyes died as she leaned back to regard him somberly. “That is a very long time to be alone.”
Veral threw back his shoulders and puffed out his vibrissae with pride, his mandible spread in a show of power as he glared down at her. “I do not require such attachments to be operational. I have no malfunctions and am at peak performance—or was until I was recently damaged, but my nanos are repairing me, and my vengeance will be visited upon them before I leave this world.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, her brows winging upward. “That’s some pretty intense denial. By the way, what does anastha mean?” she asked, changing the direction of conversation. Veral didn’t know if he should be grateful or insulted that she felt necessary to deflect. What he did experience was embarrassment at her poor pronunciation mangling such an esteemed term.
“Anastha,” he repeated slowly, emphasizing the sharp click following the “n” and “th.”
Terri repeated it back to him. The clicks sounded muffled to him rather than sharp and concise, but it was at least an improvement. His lips twitched at her concentration as she devoted herself to sounding the word out under her breath.
“What does it mean?” she asked again.
“It is a term that translates to ‘fierce one,’” he replied. She bared her teeth with such pleasure that for the first time he didn’t feel his vibrissae tingle and twitch in response to what would normally have been an expression of challenge. Instead, the odd warmth returned again, and his lips curved in response. She thankfully didn’t see it as she turned her back to him to inspect the building once more.
“I like that,” she said with a distinct sound of satisfaction. “Okay, now boost this ‘fierce one’ up so I can take a look.”
“Negative,” he responded firmly.
She looked over her shoulder at him, a puzzled expression on her face as her pink lips dropped at the corners. “Excuse me?”
“We have a bargain for your assistance. I cannot follow you within to make sure you are not harmed. Letting you go in alone is disadvantageous for me when I could potentially lose your assistance.”
Terri stared askance at him and then snorted out a laugh. “I see why you’re encouraged to mate. You need someone to fuss over. You don’t need to worry about me, though. I’ve been in and out of these buildings all my life. Now help me up!”
Veral was not fussing, nor did he require anyone to fuss over. Yes, it was satisfying to have someone need his presence rather than just tolerating him, but that was all.
He did not require a female. Although he barely saw his sire after his mother’s termination, he was aware that the male had eventually been found deceased in their dwelling before the first year was out, l
unars after his failed courtship. Although it was exceedingly rare, that dependency alarmed him, and he considered himself fortunate to have not been chosen. Most healthy mates survived the passing of a mate, but he and his line had already proved to be flawed.
He would be in the minority who would be dangerously attached.
With a low snarl, he stomped forward and set his hands upon Terri’s hips, ignoring the startling shock that tingled through his hands and up his arms at the contact. “Very well. If you insist on being foolish, I shall comply. I advise you to avoid harm. I will be severely displeased otherwise.”
8
Terri squawked in surprise when Veral effortlessly—and at a speed she hadn’t been prepared for—lifted her to the edge of the sloping roof. On her hands and knees, with her fingers digging into the shingles, she shuffled over to the one visible window of what had once been the fourth-floor attic space of the house. The window was smaller than she’d assumed when looking at it from the ground but still large enough to squeeze through—if just barely. For a moment, she didn’t want to go in. The interior was dark, and she caught traces of some kind of horrible smell coming from it.
Her throat working in a desperate attempt not to retch, Terri gripped the edge of the window and pulled herself inside, wiggling in such a fashion that she easily dropped within. She regretted her decision almost immediately when she landed on something that squelched beneath her as it folded under her weight. The musty smell of rotting wood and fabric flooded her nose.
How the hell did something wet end up in the attic? It hadn’t rained in months.
“Female?” Veral’s voice drifted up to her.
“You know damn well my name is Terri!” she shouted down, the distance giving her bravado an edge that it didn’t have when she was face-to-face with the intimidating alien.
He grunted in response. “Clearly you are well.”
Broken Earth Page 7