Playing God (22 page)

Res climbed more carefully, but eventually she got there.

“You're acting like a baby.” Res hunkered down in a cleft in the trunk.

“I am not. You're acting like an idiot,” Theia spat. “Ancestors mine! Can't you see what's going on!”

“I can, but you can't,” Res cuffed her shoulder gently. “Theia, they're giving us a chance to help Mother.”

Theia shifted herself around until she straddled the branch and looked Res in both eyes. “What are you talking about?”

This is the absolute, Theia.” Res's voice dropped to an excited whisper. “I'll be able to watch Aunt Senejess the whole time. I'll learn who all her contacts are, how she does her work. I can pretend to be really interested in her side of things, and she'll tell me what they think and what they're planning. Then, I can tell you and Mother.”

“You'd leave us, just like that?” Theia felt her ears sinking slowly toward the scalp. “You'd leave me? You'd leave Mother when the Change could happen any second?” She knew that wasn't true. So far, the hormones were working, but she said it anyway.

Res's face furrowed. She reached out and covered Theia's hand where it grasped the branch. “I'm scared, too.”

“Then don't go.” Theia felt her throat tighten. “Don't leave me alone. This place is crazy. Our family, they hate everybody. They're all crazy.”

Res didn't say anything. She hunched in the crook of the tree with her hand on Theia's. The branch dug into Theia. Parts of her bottom started to go numb.

“I want to help Mother,” said Res, finally. “I know the aunts are crazy, but they're right. We need to find out if the Getesaph are up to anything. If they are, we can tell Mother and Mother can tell the Queens, so they can take it to the Confederation before the aunts and their friends can do anything with it.”

Theia's ears drooped. She'd never win this. Res wanted it too much.

“What can I do?”

Res's ears quivered. The skin on her palms rolled against the back of Theia's hands. A jolt of hope and happiness ran through her but did not sink in.

“Mother probably won't be back until after midnight. The aunts've got to know that, or they wouldn't be doing this now. So, tonight when everyone's gone to sleep, you use the comm station to get her a message. Say she should contact Lynn and let her know what's going on.”

“But what'll Lynn be able to do from here…”

“They said the Human coordinator's going to the Hundred Isles. That's got to be Lynn. She'd be right there. She won't let us down.” Res squeezed Theia's hands again, “This isn't so stupid, Theia. We've got more friends than they know about I won't be on my own.”

Theia couldn't think of anything to say, so she just sat there, holding on to her sister and her supporting branch.

“Mother and I need you to be strong for us, Theia. This isn't going to be easy for anybody.”

Theia dipped her ears. “I need you to come back, Res.”

Res bared her teeth. “Let anyone and their Ancestors try to stop me.” She chafed the back of Theia's hands. “Now come down with me and let us put this plan into action.”

Theia followed her down and stood beside her on the damp grass. They wrapped their arms around each other and walked back to the house, hanging on tight.

Chapter IX

I
t didn't have to be like this, Arron.” On the other side of the video screen, Marcus Avenall shook his head. “There are some plum jobs up and down the Human Chain. You could have any one of them.”

Arron sighed. “Obviously, I don't want any one of them.”

“Obviously,” said Marcus drily. He leaned toward the screen. “Listen, Arron, we can still work this out. Zombie the knot and come back here. We'll stick you behind a comm station for a couple of years and then get you back out in the dirt.” He leaned toward the screen. “You've got a lot of work left in you. This is not the time for a kamikaze run.”

He meant it. Marcus was bending over backwards to get Arron out of his handmade mess, and Arron wanted to thank him for it.

“I'm not going to untie my knot.” It had actually been doing some good. The debates had grown hard, furious, and crowded. A number of contractors had pulled out of the project. When he left… Well, at least he could keep some connection to this Earth through the work on web. “If that's the condition, then I'm not coming back in, Marcus.”

Marcus shook his head. “All right, Arron. I can't stop you, and if you're going to be like this, I can't help you.” He paused. “You realize that if you're stripped off the roll, I won't even be able to get you home from there?”

“Yeah, I know,” said Arron softly. “I'll find my own way out. It won't be the first time.”

“No, I guess not.” Marcus studied his keypad. “I don't know whether to wish you luck or sense, Hagopian,” he said without looking up. “Call if you change your mind. Maybe we can still figure something out.” He cut the connection and left Arron sitting there alone.

He stood up. “Station. Power off.”

The station's low hum shut off, and Arron stood alone with the sound of the ventilators.

Shut them down, too? No.
He picked up his portable and slung it over his shoulder.
Why risk any extra contaminants getting out before Bioverse can get to it?

He crossed the empty room. His was the only station remaining. Cabal had stripped the others out, having, he said, found somebody who'd buy them for parts salvage.

Arron reached the front door and turned around. It seemed like an incredible waste to leave all the furniture and hardware, but, what were any of them going to do with it? Cabal had taken all he needed. Who else would use the place? The corpers certainly didn't need it, and the Dedelphi wouldn't touch it because of the Human contamination.

He pressed his fingertips against the light panel. Darkness filled the room. The sealed doors opened and closed behind him, locking automatically. If it came to it, the corpers would have no problem slicing their way in.

Arron climbed the stairs out into the watery daylight and walked to the pier where he'd left his boat. The ferries had stopped running. He'd had to bring himself out. The harbor managers had been happy to rent him one of their motorized boats, as he'd known they would. Those two were squeezers of an old, proud school. He paid their outrageous price without grumbling.

He stepped into the rocking boat and dropped his backpack into the bottom. He tossed the switches on the engine. Gripping the tiller firmly, the way Lareet had taught him, he pointed the nose for shore.

For the first time since he'd come to the Hundred Isles, the harbor was quiet. Boats rocked at anchor, but none of them plowed through the water. All the traffic was on the shore. Lines of mothers, sisters, and daughters filled the streets, bridges, and rooftops. They carried their bundles under their arms and on their heads while the smallest daughters clung to their backs and shoulders. Open-sided trucks stuffed with passengers and baggage crept between the pedestrians. All of them headed the same way, to the spaceport to wait for their relocation.

Arron had seen the bulletins that asked the families to stay home until they were specifically called. He could have told Lynn that was never going to work. The Getesaph were used to shortage living. If something was going to be distributed, whether it was a service or hard goods, you had better get there early and stake your place. If you waited for someone to tell you to turn up, whatever-it-was might be gone before you got there. If they got to the distribution point and found out nothing was happening yet, they'd calmly sit and wait until something did happen. It was amazing.

Arron steered the boat toward the dock. Two figures came out of the nearest shack. He assumed they were the harbor managers, who had no confidence in his ability to securely tie off a boat, but when he looked again, he saw they were Lareet and Umat.

“Dayisen Umat, Dayisen Lareet!” He flipped the reverse switch and eased his power off so the boat pulled in slowly, if clumsily, to the dock. Lareet shook her head and jumped down into the boat. She shooed him off the tiller. Arron let himself be replaced and handed a rope up to Umat so she could tie them off.

“Ten years, Scholar Arron, and you have not learned you cannot properly work a boat alone.” Lareet flicked her ears at him as she shut off the engine. “I despair.”

“Well, you were a bit busy this morning, my Sisters.” He gave Umat his hands, and she heaved him up onto the dock. “How goes the preparatory wave?”

Lareet handed him his backpack and climbed onto the dock beside him. “We have set the final roster…”

“After much heated debate in the Halls.” Lareet touched his shoulder, but she wasn't focused on him. Her ears leaned toward her sister.

Something was going on. Arron's gaze shifted from one sister to the other. Umat looked fine, but Lareet's face was smooth and tight with some inner worry.

“Scholar Arron, what did your employers have to say?” Lareet asked.

Arron shook his head and wrung his hands to simulate flapping ears. “I'm stripped from the rolls and have to find my own way home.” He bit down on his lip so hard he tasted blood. “Or, at least I will be soon, since I won't behave the way they want. So, from here on out, it's
Hitchhiker
Arron.” He slung his pack over one shoulder, stuck out his thumb, and waited for them to ask what he was talking about.

But he saw they weren't listening to him. The Dayisen Rual watched each other over the top of his head.

“All right.” Arron waved his arm. “You up there. What is going on?”

“An additional judgment was reached today that might interest you,” Lareet said, almost hesitantly.

“Indeed,” said Umat. “Your concern for our well-being, and your careful studies have not gone unnoticed.”

Lareet dipped her ears. “And it has been seen how ready you are to help us with the other Humans. So, an additional debate was introduced.”

“After which we were empowered to invite you to come with us,” concluded Umat triumphantly.

“What?” Arron blinked.

Lareet turned one ear toward her sister. “We are inviting you to relocate with us aboard the
Ur
and continue your studies of ourselves and our ways from there.”

Arron resisted the impulse to let his jaw drop. “Dayisen Umat, Dayisen Lareet, I thank you with all my soul, but…” He searched for the right Getesaph words. “You… your members do understand that I still regard this relocation as a mistake?”

“It has been made quite clear to them, and to us, yes,” said Lareet solemnly. “We hoped you would want to stay with us and find out if you were right.”

“But,” he sputtered, unwilling to believe what was happening, “my employers stripped me from their rolls because of how I spoke against the relocation. I have no way to pay Bioverse for my maintenance.”

Lareet slapped the side of his helmet lightly. “Do you think our employers intended you should labor like a slave for our benefit without compensation?”

“Trust us, Scholar Arron,” said Umat. “Bioverse has been spoken to. We have claimed you as a sister, and your salary will enable you to live on the ships and on the ground, should you still be with us when we are returned.”

“It will probably be necessary for you to make your home in the Human quarters, but that should not cause you hardship.” Lareet's voice was full of satisfaction. “What do you have to say about all this, Scholar Arron?”

Arron's chest swelled, but at the same time his throat tightened.
It's not over!
he crowed in the back of his mind.

“I say thank you, my Sisters.” He took their hands. “I will gladly come with you.”

“Well, my Sister,” sighed Lareet as they picked their way down the narrow avenue. “I think that was the finest batch of lies we ever told Scholar Arron, don't you?”

“We did not lie.” Umat shook her elbow. “We asked straight-out would he come with us, and he said yes.”

The skin on Lareet's upper arms rolled. The street was too quiet. With twilight setting, it felt like the shadowy Dead quarter. “But we did not tell him why. A lie by omission is still a lie.”

Umat kicked a pile of dried weeds. “War requires your soul, Sister, not just your mouth. We need Scholar Arron. He can help us understand Human engineering and thinking. If need be, he can make a valuable hostage.” Lareet opened her mouth again, but her sister silenced her. “He will help us, as soon as we explain it to him.”

Then why do we not explain it to him now?
Lareet let her ears fall. “I don't like this.”

“And I do? He helped at my last bearing of daughters. He picked Ylata up as she crawled from my womb and placed her in my pouch. Do you think I want to harm him?”

“No, no, of course not.” Lareet waved the suggestion away as they rounded a comer. “But—”

A father stood in front of them, wide-eyed and stoopshouldered. He stared, as if just on the edge of understanding or remembering. Lareet bowed until her ears brushed the pavement. Umat copied her motion. This was a blessing. The city security teams were gently leading the fathers to the ports so they might be with the mothers, sisters, and daughters. There were only a few left free to be guided by the World Mothers to their destinies.

The t'Therians penned their fathers, and haggled over them like cattle, Lareet knew. It had always appalled her. How could you haggle over a creature driven solely by destiny?

The father shuffled toward them. He ran his hands across Lareet's ears and down her back. Her skin shivered.

Umat raised her head, and looked to Lareet.

“What do you say, my Sister? One more bearing? To remember what is at the heart of all we do.” She held out her hand. “To mend our quarrel tighter than blood and soul?”

“You can't mean it.” Lareet half laughed as she straightened up. “My belly's all but gone flat. I've got no room in me for more daughters.” Still, the father stroked her shoulders softly, almost reverently. A tension she had forgotten she carried relaxed inside her.

“The father does not think so.” Umat touched her forearm.

“I can't,” said Lareet, although regret ran through her. “We're going into combat, Sister, how can I take daughters with me?”