Trigger Warnings
Sonam
AsIstepofftheplatformandintothemud,I’mdistinctlyawarethisismyfirsttimeoutsideofthecaves Fearholdsmein hand;Imightaswellhavebeencursedbyawitchandturnedtostone.
Asmyfrontfootsinksintothemud,myballetflatbecomescompletelycovered,andwatersoaksupthehemofmyjeans My other foot, still on the platformwe use as an elevator between the forest floor and our home at the top of the tallest mountain,remainsmercifullydry
ButIcan’tstaylikethis onefootin,onefootout,trappedbetweentwoworlds.Ididn’ttellanyoneIwascomingdown, sothere’severypossibilitysomeonewillhaultheplatformbackup,andI’llbetippedoffbeforeIcandecide.
Iforcemyselftotakeanotherstepforward,mybodystiffandunyielding I’mlikeanewbornfoal,strugglingtolearnhow mylegs work. Imight’ve beenlivingonRainland for two months now, buteverythingis so outofmycomfortzone thatI’m floundering,notflourishing Theconstantrain,theforestwithtreesaslargeasskyscrapers,thelackoftechnology Wedon’t evenhaveaflushingtoilet.
Itakeafewmoresteps,concentratingonfreeingmyfeet(andmyshoes)fromthemudwitheachstep.Itfeelslikelegdayat the gym, onlyI’mno longer used to workingout, and justthe shortwalkto the closesttree leaves me pantingand sweating. Thankstotheconstantrain,it’salwayshumid.
Thetreebarkiscoarseundermypalm,andIscrapemyhandalongit,nothardenoughtobreaktheskinbutenoughthatthe stingtakestheedgeoffmyfear.
I’malwayssobloodyanxious,andit’sexhausting SomedaysIbarelydragmyselfoutofbed ThatI’vemadeitalltheway totheforestfloorisanaccomplishment.ItrytoremindmyselfIshouldbeproudI’mdownhere,butit’snearlyimpossibleto believemyself.I’vetoldsomanyliesandhalf-truthsthatI’veforgottenhowtotrustmyself.
Idrawadeepbreathintomylungs,relishingthefreshair.Itsmellsofrainandvegetationand…well,mud.
There’s no escapingthe mud, however muchIwishwe’d crashlanded inthe middle ofa city. The factis we’re onan unpopulatedrainforestplanet,onewherethesunnever breaksthroughthethickclouds,andour bestformofentertainmentis watchingEmeryelpretendingshecanunderstandGracie’shigh-pitchedmonkeychatter.
Slowly,Icirclethetree,leavingmyhandonitstrunkasaguide Itslowestbranchesaremetersabovemyhead;Icouldn’t reachthemifItried.Butthere’sathickvinegrowingaroundthetrunk,andit’sthatvinewhichhasfinallydrawnmeoutofmy bedcave.
Ipickasandnutfromthevineandtuckitintomyjeanspocket Itmakesabulgeatthetopofmythighaboutthesizeofa golf ball. I hunt for more nuts. They’re my favorite raw ingredient on this planet. The outer shell is like concrete and impossibletocrack Onlywhentheshelldrieswillitbreakopen,revealingthefattykernelinside Youcaneatthemraw,oryoucanroastthemoveranopenfire,andthekerneltakesonthisdelicioustoasty,butteryflavor.I imaginebeingstrongenoughtocracktheoutershellwithsheerbruteforce I’dneedmuscleslargerthanevenTorksten’sarms Standingonmytiptoes, Ireachfor another nut, and mybodypitches forward. Ionlyjustcatchmyselfonthe tree trunk, stoppingmyselffromfaceplantingstraightintothethree-inchmud.Painsearsmypalm,andIwince.
‘Shit’ThistimeIreallydidgrazemyskin,anddropletsofbloodoozetothesurface Mybottomlipquivers,despitehow hardIclenchmyjaw,andtears leakfrommyeyes.Unusedtoexercise,mymuscles arestraining,andmyhands areshaking. AndIfuckinghatemyselfforcrying,butthere’sabsolutelynothingIcandotostopit EvenwhenIholdmybreath,mylungs burning,tearscontinuetorolluncheckeddownmycheeks.
Ishouldknowbynownottobothertrying.I’vecriedeverydayfortwomonths,andIcouldneverstopthetearsonanyof thosedays.Butshameandguiltarehardfeelingstoignore,andsoIstuffmyotherhandovermymouthasifIcanholdallthe painandfearandlonelinessinsidemybody
None ofthe other womencryanymore. Jess, Emeryel, Rose and Calla have all beenthroughthe same hell as me, being abducted byaliens and dumped onthis planetinthe middle ofnowhere, butthe difference betweenme and themis they’ve acceptedournewlife.They’veallgottenonwithliving.
Notme
BecausethenI’dalsohavetoacceptthatit’smyfaultthealiensabductedusinthefirstplace.Andhow couldIpossibly livewithmyselfthen?
Ahh!Iscreaminmyhead,knowingifIscreamaloudmyvoicewillcarryupthemountain,andtheotherswillhear I scrub my grazed hand on my jeans to clean away the blood. The sharp pain that stings my palmis almost enough to distractmyuglythoughts
Almost.Butnotquite.
Istumblebacktoourmountain,practicallyblindedbymytears Ican’tgoback,notlikethis Ican’tstopmycrying,butI canatleasthideitfromtheothers;Icanatleastsparethemtheannoyanceofit.Insteadofsteppingontotheplatform,Iclamber intotheclosestcave,sniffingandspluttering,thinkingtohideoutofsight.
Theunevenfloor ofthecavetrips meeveryfew steps,butIdon’tslow I’venever beenherebefore Imaginedmonsters blossomtolifeinmyoveractiveimagination,hidingintheshadows,waitingtogulpmedowninonebite,theirmanylegshairy likeaspider’s,theireyesentirelybloodred I’mscaredofthesuddendarknessandevenofmyownimpossiblyloudandsnotty sniffingechoingaroundthewalls.
If fear, myconstant companion, was holdingmymuscles still and nearlymotionless a few minutes ago, now it has me rushingblindlyforward.Ihonestlydon’tknowifI’mstilltryingtohidefromtheothersorifI’mtryingtohidefrommyself,as impossibleasthatis.
Stalagmitesreachoutoftheground,sometallerthanme,whilestalactitesclingtotheceiling,likeupsidedownbats or vampires.Eachformationisapointedtoothinthemouthofacavemonster.
Justasmyeyesareadjustingtotheshadowygloom,Istumbledeeperintothecave,anditgetsdarker,untilmyhandonthe wallismyonlyguide.
Thesmoothnessofthewallannouncestheexactmomentthecaveturnsintoatunnel.Wherebeforeitwasroughanduneven, hereit’s beencarvedrelativelysmoothbyanalienspecies whooncetookshelter inthis mountain.Ithinkofthemstumbling aroundinthedarkness,usinghammersandchiselstocuttheirwayfromthebaseofthemountainallthewayuptoHomeRoom.
Ridiculous I give myhead a little shake, attemptingto shake some of the fictitious thoughts frommymind Of course, they’dhavehadelectronictools.They’dhadspaceshipsafterall.
Andthenthey’dabandonedthisplanetalltogether,leavingitemptyforustofind Hadtheybeenrunningfromsomething? Orrunningtosomething?
IalmostmissthedoorI’msearchingfor.Kerroktoldmehe’dusedarocktojamitopen,butwithmyhandontheopposite wall,Iwalkstraightbyit
It’sthestaleairthatcatchesmyattention,causingmetopauseinmypanic.Isniffandthensneezeasrockdustinvadesmy nose Iguessthat’soneskillculinaryschooltaughtmethatIcanactuallyuseonRainland howtorelyonmysenseofsmell Gettingontomyhandsandknees,therockbitesintomylegs,andmygrazedpalmstingsasIsearchforthetopstair.There’s aboutthreefeetofdistancebetweeneachofthesteps,andcrawl-climbingisanewtypeofhell Bloodrushesintomyhead My thoughtsspin,andmytemplesthrobuntilIhavetoturnaroundandclimbdownbackwardsforfearofpassingout orfalling headfirstdownthestairs.
Ilosetrackoftime,andIevenclosemyeyes It’snotlikeIcanseeanythinganyway IcountthestepsasIgo,distracting myselfwithnumberssoIcan’timaginethemillionsofreasonswhyitwasaterribleideatocomedownhere.Ishouldhavejust returnedtoHomeRoomandtotheothers’disappointmentthatI’mstillcryingeveryday
I’mpantingheavily,andsweathassoakedintomyblackT-shirtwhenfinallyIreachthelaststep.Mylegsandarmsburn likethey’reonfire It’sbeenovertwomonthssinceI’vedoneanyseriousexercise;Ibarelyrecognisemyownbody
ConsideringI’vehardlygotthementalcapacitytoleavemybedcavemostdays,IknowIshouldn’tbetoohardonmyself fornotstayinginshape.Theguiltdoesn’tgoawaywithmyinnervoice’shalf-heartedreassurancesthough.IneverknowifI’m goingtosaysomethingnicetomyselforsomethingabsolutelycrappy
Straighteningtomyfull height,Iface a cavernaboutthe size ofa football field.It’s exactlyas Calla describedit.Glow wormswiggleslowlyovertheceiling,illuminatingthelake It’sevenmorehumiddownherewithsteamrollingoffthewater’s surface.Itouchitwithacautiousfinger.It’shotenoughtobeabath.
Asteadystreamofbubblesdisturbsthecomposurealongoneedge,causedbythehydropower,Ithink,whichthelake… produces?Kerrokexplainedhow itall works,butIbarelyheardhim.Thathadn’tbeenagooddayforme;I’dbeenstuckso muchinmyownthoughtsthatI’dhardlybeenabletoconcentrateonwhatanyoneelsehadbeensaying.
Ibrushdamphairoffmyface.
WhatIremembermostvividlyaboutKerrok’sexplanationofthehydropowerwastheconstantflickofhistailashetalked. Hehas apredator’s tail,justlikeone ofthe aliens frommyromance novel Perhaps Ishouldfear sucha tail (andIsuppose someprimitivepartofmedoes,atinybit),butitisn’tprimarilyfearIfeel whenIseeKerrok.He’sjustanotherreminderof howmuchI’vefuckedup
Ihurryaroundthe lake, followingthe narrow ledge whichleads me toanother cave. This one is clearlya control room, witha panel builtinto one stone wall Barelyglancingatit, Icross the roomto the narrow tunnel beyond, followingwhatI rememberofCalla’sdirections.
Idon’tthinkCalla ever expectedme tocome downhere,butshe was prettyprecise withher descriptions whenshe and Kerroktoldthestoryoftheirdiscovery
Thetunnelopensintoaspaciouscavern.Three-storieshigh,thecenterareaisopenallthewaytotheceiling,withtwofullcirclebalconies andtensmaller caves branchingoffthemaincavernateachstory It’s eerilycreepyhow muchitlooks like HomeRoom.
Thesoundofmeexistinginthisenormousspaceisalmostoverwhelmingintheotherwisedeafeningsilence Iswear I’m breathingtwiceasfastandtwiceasloudasanormalpersonissupposedtobreathe.IwishIcouldshrinksmallerandbeless noticeable.Iwish
Ishutthatthoughtdown Nothinggoodevercomesfromwishingyourlifewasdifferent I’velearntthatthehardway
Thesinglefigureisshackledtothefarwall.ChainslooparoundhiswristsandanklessotightlyIdon’tthinkhecouldmove even if he were awake There’s a tube down his throat, the other end of which is attached to some sort of hospital-grade equipment,althoughitdoesn’tlooklikeanythingyou’dfindonEarth.
Athicklayerofrockdustcovershimandhisequipment.Hisskinissicklypale,andhishairiscompletelywhite.Notgray. Notsilver.Whitelikesnow.
Helookshow IimagineDeathwouldlook.TheGrimReaper.ThePaleHorseman.Or theDevil,asmydevoutChristian Ajjiwould’vesaid
Ofcourse he isn’tDeath. He isn’tevendead. He’s insome sortofpurgatory. Cryostasis, Kerrokcalled it. Possiblyfor centuries.Alone.Buriedunderthetallestmountain.Abandonedandforgotten.
He’swearingwhatIcanonlydescribeasahospitalgownandleggings,bothinblack,makinghisskinappearevenmore translucent.IswearIcanseedarkveinsathiswristsandswirlingaroundhisneck,acrosshischeeksandencirclinghiseyes.
Iwonder atthecolor Perhapshisbloodisdarker thanmine Or perhapsthedarknessisactuallyall thechemicalsbeing pumpedaroundhisbody,keepinghimalivebutasleep.Thetubedownhisthroatisopaque,sothere’snowayofknowing.
Finally,painstakinglyslowly,asthoughI’mafraidifImovetoofastitwillallturnintooneofmyimaginedstories,Iallow myattentiontomovetohiswings.They’restretchedouttoeithersideofhim,longerthanheistall andhe’stallerthanIam bya good two and half, three feet. His wings are white. Eachindividual feather is perfect, evenifthey’re the mostlifeless thingabouthim Dullanddustyandfaded,likeanoldphotothatsomeone’slefttoolonginthesun
I don’t know who he is. This isn’t actually a hospital, and there’s no paperwork lying around the cavern detailing his species,name,addressandbloodtype Heisn’tevenwearingamedicaltagaroundhiswrist
That’swhenIseethe other chains.They’reloopedaroundhiswings,presumablykeepingthemstretchedopen.There’sone chain around each wing, and both chains are bolted into the wall behind him, just like the shackles around his wrists and ankles.
WhatIcan’tworkoutis exactlyhow the chains have beenloopedaroundhis wings.Didtheyslipthe links betweenhis feathers?Buthowwouldthatevenwork?
Itakeastepforward,soclosemynextexhalecausesdusttoeruptintotheairbetweenus.Itsparklesintheweaklightof theglowworms,andforaseconditlookslikehe'ssparkling ThenmystomachlurchesasmybraincatchesupwithwhatI’m seeing.Someonehas drilledholes straightthroughtheuppermostpartofhis wings,andthroughthoseholesthey’vethreaded thethickchains.
I’mtransfixed bythe cruelty For the firsttime since myabduction, the voice inmyhead is silent;Ican’tevenformthe thoughtstounderstandhowsomeonecouldhavedonethistohim.I’veneverseenanythingsoheartbreaking.
Tearsprickatmyswolleneyes,andIlookaway BecauseofthesimilaritiesbetweenthiscavernandHomeRoom,Iknow thirtysmallcavesallleadofffromthisoneroom.Ievenknowwhat’sinthem,thankstoCallaandKerrok.
Youdon’tchainsomeonetothewallofamausoleumjustbecauseyoucan Youchainthemtherebecause because My imaginationsendsmeamyriadofpossibleanswers.
Becausetheybelievedhecouldprotectthedead. Becausehekilledthem,andthisishispunishment Becausehe’swaitingtoberesurrected.
Wasn’t it Walt Disneywho had his bodyfrozen, hopingthat one dayhe’d be brought backto life? Stranger things have happened.Alienabductions,forone.
IreachoutasifI’mbraveenoughtotouchhim,andevenbeforeI’vemadecontactIcanfeelanunnaturalcoldnessradiating fromhisskin.Isnatchmyhandback.
IfI’dseenhimtwomonthsago,I’dhavethoughthe’dbeencarvedfrommarble He'ssostillandcolorless Iknowbetter now.Hemightbesuspendedinanartificialsleep,hischestcompletelystillandhisbodyascoldasice,buthe’salive. Heisn’tanangel,despitehiswings Andhecertainlyisn’thuman,forallthesimilaritiesbetweenus No,he’sanalien.
ConcretefearwrapsitselfaroundmeasfirmlyasI’veeverfeltit,andIflee
Hanriell
TherehasonlybeendarknessforalmostaslongasIcanremember IfIcouldevencallwhatIamdoingremembering,inthis drunken, drugged, detained state. My body has been tied still, physically and chemically, for so long I can barely comprehendwhatitfeltliketoexistwithinaphysicalform
Thereisonlytheendlessdebilitatingsilence.Andthecold.AlwaysIamcold.Sometimes,forcountlesslengthsoftime,the coldistheonlyreasonIbelieveIamstill alive Technically,alive WhatIamdoing,thiscompleteandutterstillness,could neverbecalled living.
Iscream,mythroatsurelycrackedandraw,ifathroatIevenstillhave.ButImakenosounds.IcanaswellscreamasIcan breathe,andmychestremainsjustasmotionlessandtrappedastherestofme orwhatisleftofme
What is left? Where do I end? Where does the rest of existence begin? Or have I been sentenced to eternity in an inbetweenworld,neitherlivingnordying,whereexistenceisamatterofself-debateratherthanreality?
AnddebateitIhave.Cyclically.Tirelessly.
AtleastpartofwhoIhadoncebeenstillarguesIcannotstaylikethisforever.Thattherehastobeanending,somehow. Then,betweenonesilentscreamandthenext,thereisasound.Footsteps,maybe.Abreath.Agasp,perhaps.
Aliving,breathing,existingcreaturestandingnearlycloseenoughtomycomprehensionIcanalmostbesureIamnolonger absolutelyalone
Sonam
TheothersaresittingaroundtheHomeRoomfireasIcomescuttlingbackinside Myfacemustbestampedwithguilt It’s notlikewe’reforbiddentoexplore,butwedidallagreeitwassafertotravelinpairsormore.
Ofcourse,Jess,Emeryel,CallaandRoseallhavetheirownMates,leavingmeastheonlyonewithoutapair IfI’dasked oneofthewomentocomewithme,they’dhavebroughttheirMate,andthat…That’stoomanypeople.Justbeinginthesame roomaseveryoneisgrindingmyfragilenerves Iskirtaroundtheedgeofthecavern,keepingthewallbesideme,stayinginthe shadows.
MaybeifImovequietlyenough,theywon’tseemeandthinktoaskaboutwhatI’vebeendoingall day.Oneofmyjeans pockets is still bulgingwiththe sand nutIpicked, and Ireallydon’twantto explainhow Iended up all the wayunder the mountaintowherethesleepingalienischained.
I’mstillnotsurehowithappened
JessissittingbesideherMate,Vorden,andonhisothersideishisyoungerbrother,Kerrok,andhisMate,Calla.Roseis contentedlysquashedbetweenhertwogoldenskinnedmales.KovelhashisarmdrapedoverRose’sshoulderandisgripping Vyn’sforearmlikehecan’tbeartonotbetouchingthemboth,evenforamoment.Rosehasonehandoneachoftheirknees,her barefeetstretchedtowardthefire.
Public displays ofaffectionwere rare inmyfamily Everytime Dad wanted to hold Ma’s hand or kiss her cheek, she’d pushhimawaywithahissed we ’ re in public. MyAjjihadbeenthesame,untilithadfeltlikeIndianswereimmunetoromance atleastwhenanyoneelsewaswatching
HereonRainland,publicdisplaysofaffectionareadailyoccurrence.Ijustwishtheydidn’tmakemefeelsoisolated or soinexperienced.
IgivethefirealonglookbeforedismissinganyideaImighthaveaboutjoiningthecircle,despitemyownwetfeet.I’m suretheothers wouldwelcomemyarrival;Iwouldn’twelcomebeingtheonlyonesittingbyherselfinacircleofcontented couples
Emeryel is the last of the five women abducted fromEarth. She’s sitting in Torksten’s lap, one armaround his broad shoulders He’s the shortest of the five alien men, and that’s saying something because they’re all over seven feet tall Nevertheless,he’sdefinitelythelargestofthem.Puremuscleandbuiltliketheex-gladiatorheis.
Emeryel is saying something I can’t quite hear, although there’s a note of urgency in her voice, and the others are all watchingher intensely Aninchofregrowthbordersher dyed-greenhair,andshestill hasabandagewrappedaroundoneof herwrists.It’snotbrokenanymore,butsometimesitpainsher,soshelikestokeepitstrappedonthosedays.
Ofthefivehumanwomen,I’mtheonlyoneofcolor Bynowordorlookhavetheotherseveracknowledgedthedifference betweenus.Andmaybeitshouldn’tmatterconsideringwelivewithreal-lifealiens,butI’venoticed.Ifwewererunningtrack, their lanes are clear of obstacles while I’m struggling to jump over the hurdles set in my path my tears, my guilt, my loneliness,myculturalisolation.
AsEmeryel speaks,Torkstenglancesmyway.I’mnotsurprisedhe’sthefirsttohavenoticedmyarrival.He’salwayson highalert,thinkingsomeonewillattackhimatanymoment Hishigh-strungnervesmakemehighstrung,andIdropmygazeso Idon’thavetomeethiseyes.
Deepscarscutthroughhisback,chestandarms,makingitclearhe’sluckytohavesurvivedwhateverattackedhim Ofhis two horns, one has beenbrokenand grownbackpointingstraight up at the cavernceiling, while the other one curls neatly
aroundthesideofhishead,kindoflikearam’shorn.
Thankfully,he’sthequietestofthegroup,andIdoubthe’llgivemypresenceawaytotheothers.
Iedgeclosertomybedcave,thedoorwayofwhichI’vecoveredbyablanketIturnedintoacurtain-door Yes,acurtainas adoorisaluxuryonRainland.WereallyarelivingintheStoneAge.Whichisutterlyridiculouswhenyouthinkaboutallthe advancedtechnologywhichbroughtustothisplanet
‘TheHovknowwe’rehere,’JessinterjectsEmeryelloudly.
Ifreeze It’s like Ihave antennae tuned to interceptcertaintopics Everythingaboutthe Hov sets me onhighalert, and I straintohearwhattheysaynext.
‘Nomatterhowmanyprecautionswetake,we’renevergoingtobecompletelyhidden,’Jesscontinuesloudly,crossingher arms Sheisn’tonetocowerfromafight ‘Havinganescapeplan,ifworsecomestoworse,makesalotofsensetome’ ‘Surelytheywon’tcomeback,’Emeryelsays,hervoicealsorisinginvolume.
Torkstenshiftsinhisseat,andshekisseshistemple,soothinghimasagitationseemstotenseherownmuscles
EvenGracie is worried.She’s sittingonone ofEmeryel’s shoulders,twoofher four hands wrappedinEmeryel’s green hair,andshe’sflickingthetipofherlongmonkey-liketailbackandforthlikeanannoyedcatmight
Iwantnothingtodowiththisconversation,butIcan’tdrawmyselfaway.Ineed tolisten,evenasfreshdreadsinksintomy stomachlikeafishinglineweight.Isitpossibletheothershavefinallyrealizedmyroleinourabduction?
No, Ianswer myquestion No, it isn’t possible Theycan’t have worked it out I’mliterallythe onlyone onthis entire planetwhoknowswhatIdid.IfIhaven’ttoldthem,thennobodyhas,andIwipemyshakinghandsonmymudsplatteredjeans, cursinghowloudI’msuddenlybreathing
‘They’vealreadylosttwoshipstothisplanet,’Callapipesup.‘Ihardlyseehowthetenofusareworthathirdattempt.’ ‘Theydon’tevenknowTorksten’shere,’Emeryelsays.‘Andtheyprobablydon’tknowaboutVynandKovel.Whichmeans theyonlyknowaboutsevenofus.’
‘Iwouldnotbesosureaboutthat,Female.’Kovelsaysinhisseriousvoice.‘AnythingtheCartelknows,theHovaresure toknow Theyarenotfriends,butsharinginformationservesthemwell,andsotheyarereluctantallies’ ‘Emeryel. Myname is Emeryel.’But Idon’t thinkKovel notices she’s scoldinghim. He probablystill thinks callingus Female isrespectful JustlikehowVordenandKerrokusedtocallus Mating Females untilJessandCallasetthemstraight Ofcourse,VynandKovelonlyjoinedthegroupabouttwoweeksago,whenRosereturnedtoHomeCavewiththetwoof themintowandannouncedtheywereherforeverMates.
You’dthinkwithsomanylargementhere’dbealotoftestosteronebouncingaroundthecavern,butthere’sactuallyaquiet equilibrium amongst the males of our group, the result of each being thoroughly smitten with their human Mate and safe knowingthatthey’re all workingtoward a commongoal the safetyofthe group Theymightnotalways agree how bestto achievesaidgoal,butnobody’sshouting,notreally.EvenTorksten,lookingoverhisshoulderagain,appearsmoreconcerned aboutthepossibilityofanexternalthreatthanhe’sworriedaboutKovelandVyn,whowestilldon’treallyknowallthatwell
Bythelightofthecookingfire,thetwonewestmembersappearmorebronzethantheirusualgold.VordenandKerrokhave skinthecolorofcharcoal,whileTorkstenissodarkblue,he’salmostblack.Noneofthemsharecoloringwiththeangelinthe basement,who’ssowhitehemight’vebeenaghost
WhenIclosemyeyes,Icanseehimas clearlyas ifhe’s chainedtothewall infrontofme.Ican’tstopmyselfglancing acrossHomeRoomtothefarwalljusttocheckIhaven’tgonecompletelyinsane ForamomentIhangsuspendedintime,but heisn’tthere.
Ofcourseheisn’tthere
Ashakybreathescapesmypartedlips.
‘JustbecausetheCartel sentyouhere,doesn’tmeantheyknow youstayed,’Roseissaying,bumpingher shoulder lightly againstKovel’sthickarm
‘Thisistruth.’HelooksdownatRose,who’smorethanaheadshorterthanhim,evenseated.Hisicyexpressiondoesn’t change,althoughhisholdonVyn’sarmtightensfractionally VynleansclosertoRose’sotherside,thethreeofthemreassuring themselvesandeachotherthatthey’restilltogether.Thatthey’reinseparable.
Iresolutelyignoretheunwantedacheinmychestatthesightofthem Iabsolutelyhatethateverytimesomeoneshares a smileoralaughorisjustplainhappy,guiltwellsupinsidemelikeI’mabucketcatchingrainwater.
Anditneverstopsrainingonthisfuckingplanet!
It’s my fault Myinnervoicescreamsaccusationsinmyhead It’s all my fault we ’ re stuck here Sure, Vynand Kovel aren’ttechnicallystuckonRainland;theystill have their spaceship. Buttheywon’tleave because Rose won’t leave And Rose won’t leave because Calla won’t leave And Calla won’t leave because Kerrok and Vorden ruinedtheirshipkillingtheHovwhofirstabducteduswomenfromEarthandthendumpedusonthisplanetandthentriedto abductusagain.
AndtheHovonlyabductedusinthefirstplacebecauseIbasicallylitagreatbigbeaconontheinternetthatscreamed I’m here!Take me!
Blinkingbackhottears,Igropeblindlyfortheentrancetomybedcaveandammetbyroughfabric.
‘Whatdoyouthink,Sonam?’asksEmeryel.
Goddamnit Torkstenmightnothavegivenmeaway,butEmeryelmusthavenoticedthathe’dnoticed Itakeashuddering breath, kickoffmybetrayingmud-soaked shoes, scrub myface cleanonmycurtain-door and turnto face them, prayingthe shadowshidehowpuffywithcryingmyeyesare
‘I ’They’realllookingatme,andit’sclearIwon’tbegettingawaywithasimpleshrugornon-committalanswer.Iclear my throat, attempting to buy myself time as I think furiously ‘I don’t really know what you’re talking about,’ I end up confessing.‘Imissedthebeginning.’
Ihatehow loudIsoundinthevastexpanseofthecavern,mostofwhichis empty.Mywords bounceoffthewalls,as if they’re following the stairs fromone balcony to the next until they reach the ceiling The glow worms wiggle in protest, sendingflickeringlightovereveryone.
‘We were discussingwhatwe should do withVynand Kovel’s ship,’Jess tells me She smiles, and Itrymyhardestto returnit.She’salwayssopatientandhasneveroncecomplainedabouthowmuchIcry.Atleast,shehasn’tcomplainedwithin myhearing Myimaginationhassuppliedmewithcountlessexamplesofwhatshemightbesayingaboutmebehindmyback Whenshetouchesthespacebesideheronthebenchcarvedfromstone,indicatingshe’dwelcomeme,Ibitemybottomlip tokeepitfromquivering.I'mthatgratefultobeofferedaplaceinthegroup.
It's ridiculous thatshe kind ofreminds me ofmycookinginstructor backatculinaryschool For starters, Jess and Iare aboutthesameage.AndJessneveryells,whereasChefRoanwasalwaysyelling.Regardless,there’ssomethingreassuringly confidentaboutJessinthewaysheholdsherself It’sasifsheknowsexactlywhereshefitsintheuniverseandwhatherrole is.
There’s silence except for the occasional crackle of the fire as I walk toward her and the others. My head aches, my templesthrobbing.I’mgettinganotheroneofmystressheadaches,forwhichthereisn’tanymedicationonRainlandtotemper.
‘Wefiguretherearetwopossibilitiesforwhatwecandowiththeship,’Jesscontinues.‘Wecouldleaveitintact,orwe…’ Iswallowaroundthehardlumpinmythroatandtakemyseatbesideher Therockbenchiscoldandunyielding Ihaveto takethesandnutfrommypocketorelseIwouldn’tbeabletobendmylegsproperly.
‘Pantry,’Imutter,implyingthat’swhereIgotitandpre-emptingquestions
There’saflickerofsomethinginJess’seyesassheglancesattheenormousgapofemptybenchbetweenus,andIrealize withapainfulthrobofmyheadthatImadeamistake.Ishouldhavesatcloser.Ofcoursesheexpectedmetositcloser.ButI can’tmovenow,oreveryonewillknowthatIknowI’vestuffedup.
Igritmyteeth,wantingtoburymyfaceinmyhandsandtakerefugeinthedarkofmyclosedeyes,butIdon’tevendaredo thatforfearofdrawingevenmoreattentiontomyself Mybodyisstiffwithstress
‘Yes,’Kerrok says. ‘Or we could strip the Freighter of parts and repurpose those parts around the caves.’Either he’s thinkingJess lost her trainof thought whenI sat downor he’s wantingto turnthe conversationto the possibilityhe’s most interestedin.Asanengineer,Iimaginehe’dbeexcitedtohaveapotentialnewprojecttoworkon.There’salmostnotechon Rainland,andwhattechwehavewedon’treallyuseforfearofbeingdiscoveredbypassingships.
‘Whataboutthetechbeingtracked?’Iask,mainlybecauseIcan’tstayquietforeverorImightforgetthesoundofmyown voice.
EvenRoseiswatchingmeclosely,althoughthere’sasoftnessinher expressionthatwasn’tthereafew weeksago Ican onlyhopeI’mnotannoyingherasmuchasIusedto.
‘Ifweleavetheshipintact,wecannotoperateanypartofitwithoutfearofdiscovery,’Kerrokagrees ‘Butifwewereto striptheshipofparts,IamsureIcouldpowerthemthroughourhydrosystem.’
‘Whichisvirtuallyuntraceabletopassingships?’TheslightupwardtiltofCalla’svoiceturnswhatI’dassumedwasgoing tobeastatementintoaquestion
Kerroknods.ThesmilehegiveshisMateisforced.He’sobviouslybeenpracticing,asit’snowatleastrecognizableasa smile
‘Ifwestrippedtheshipofparts,wecouldhaveaworkingtoiletinoneofthesidecaves,’Emeryeltellsme,gesturingtothe rowofemptycavesthatlineHomeRoom Hereyesshine
‘Butwewoulddestroyouronlymeansofescapingthisplanet,’Vordenputin.
‘Wedonotneedtoescape,’Torkstensays.‘Rainlandisourhome.’
There’satensesilence Theothers,all sittingintheir littlegroupsoftwosor threes,feel amillionmilesawayfromme ThegapbetweenJessandIisachasm.
Easily,myimaginationfills someofthespace Inthetimeittakes for myhearttobeat,I’veinventedaMateofmyown He’ssittingonthestepbehindme,histhicklegspressedtomyback,supportingme.IalmostleanbackI’vecastsuchavivid image.
He’dhavewings,Idecided.Wingssolargehecouldwrapmeupinthem,creatingacocoonthatencompassesjusthimand me, shielding us from the rest of the world. And maybe … I look from Torksten to Vorden, seeking inspiration before I
comprehendexactlywhatI’mdoing.
Fuck.Isnapmyeyesshut,banishingtheimaginedalienasfastasI’dcreatedhim.Renewedlonelinessandguiltclawatmy throat,andIwrapmyarmsmorefirmlyaroundmyself,tryingtofeelalittlelessofanoutcast
It’s me!I’m the reason we ’ re stuck here, thevoiceinmyheadyellsinretributionatthemomentofsolaceIfoundinfiction, whileIworkhardatkeepingallbetrayingexpressionsfrommyface
‘WemightwanttogetthefuckoffRainlandiftheHovreturn,’saysJess.‘IknowwecanneverreturntoEarth,butsurely weshouldn’truinouronlymeansofescape’
Idon’treacttohermentionofhome.WemighthaveKovelandVyn’sFreighter,butEarthisn’tonanyofficialstarmap,and consideringthesizeoftheknowngalaxies,wecouldsearchforahundredlifetimesandstillneverfindit.
No,returninghomeisn’tanoption EvenIacceptthat
‘We cannot live constantlywaitingfor anattack.’Again, Torkstenglances over his shoulder, reassuringhimself that his formercaptorsaren’tloomingoverhim ‘Imorethananyoneunderstandthis’ Emeryelkisseshischeek,butthatdoesn’teasethetensionholdinghisbodyfirm anditcertainlydoesnothingtoeasethe tensionholdingontome
It’s all my fault!
Jesspinchesthebridgeofhernose.Clearly,hersenseofresponsibilityforthegroup’ssafetyiswarringwithhersympathy for Torksten Of everyone, he’s suffered the most at the hands ofthe Hov, as evidenced byhis brutal scars ‘So what’s the decision?Howdowepick?’
‘Byaraiseofhandswewillmakethisdecision,’herMatesays,andJesssmilesgratefullyatVorden ‘Whowouldhaveus dismantletheshipandrepurposeitsparts?’
Emeryel, Torksten, Calla and Kerrokall raise their hands. Ibob myhead inthe same yes-no gesture Ma used whenshe didn’twanttooutrightdisagreewithDadinpublic.Italwaysmeantanargumentwasonitsway,andassoonaswegothome I’dhideinmybedroomuntilthey’dfinishedshouting.
‘Whichleaves five againstthe idea’Rose points to eachofthe five who didn’thave their hands raised, clearlyhaving missedmynon-committalheadbobble ormaybebecauseofit.
Calla rolls her eyes ‘Come on, Rose Ifwe’re beingcompletelyhonest, we all know Vynand Kovel are copyingyour answer.Theydon’treallymindonewayortheother.’
Roselooksbetweenhertwoalienmen.
‘Wewouldspendtherestofourlivesonthisplanettobewithyou,’Vynsays.
‘Orwewouldfollowyoutotheendoftheknowngalaxiesandbeyondifthatwasyourwish,’Kovelfinishes.It’slikethey knowexactlywhattheotheroneisthinking
RosepracticallyglowsbythestrengthofherMates’possessivestares,thenreturnsherattentiontohertwin.‘Icouldsay thesameaboutKerrokandyou’
It’stheclosestI’veseenthemcometofighting.Ileanbackaninch,wishingIcouldremovemyselffromthebattlefieldby thesheerstrengthofnotwantingtobehere.
‘Inthatcase,’Jesshurriestointervene,‘eachcouplecancountasonevote Sothat’stwofortakingtheshipapart,andtwo forleavingitbe.’Shelooksatme.‘Sonam,youhavethedecidingvote.’Sheemphasizesthe son partofmyname,ratherthan thetraditionalHindipronunciationofSo-num, herAustralianaccentmakingitsoundharsherthanneedbe
Iwince.It’sonlythenthatherwordsreallyregister.‘Me?But…’Myheadthrobswitheachwordasifmymouthisdirectly responsibleforthepainbehindmyeyes Ilookdownatmyclaspedhands,keepingmygazeavertedfromthebrightlightofthe fireandeveryone’sexpectantlooks.
HowcanIpossiblyberesponsibleforsuchadecision?
Time is immemorial Memories flicker throughmymind, insubstantial as morningmist Itryto take hold ofthem anyof them buttheyflinchawayfrommyreach,leavingmeinperpetualdarkness. SurelyIhavenotimaginedanotherperson SurelyIreallyheardfootsteps Ihave beenalone so longIdo notthinkitis possible to remember whatitfeels like to be near another person. So they couldnothavebeenafigmentofmyimagination Istraintohearsomethingmore,anysmallsound,andammetonlybychokingsilence.
Hanriell
Sonam
Thepoundingofmyheadbeatstotherhythmofmyheart Sleeplastnightremainedelusive Halfdreamsoftrappedaliens andspaceshipsspedaroundmyheaduntilIcouldn’tthinkstraight,andeverythingwasmuddledintoonegiantmess. This morning my headache remains firmly in place, like I don’t have more important matters to be worried about Exhaustionandworryareaterriblecombination,andIcanonlyimaginehowdarkthebagsundermyeyesareasthereareno mirrorsonRainland
Breathingdeep,IshuffleforwarduntilI’masclosetotheedgeofthemountainsideashumanlypossible.Rainlandstretches outbeforeme,anemeraldseaoftrees,brokenonlybythesurroundingmountains,theirpeaksmuchtootallandmuchtoorocky foranyplantstogrowon
Rose’sexcitedvoiceechoesaroundthevalleywalls,butassheandhertwoMatesfollowtheothersdeeperintotheforest andoutofmysight,hervoicetoofadesawayuntilI’maloneagain
WhentheyaskedifIwantedtogofruitpickingwiththeminthetreetops,mydeclinewasalreadyoutofmymouthbefore I’d thoughtabouthow Iwas goingto answer. Clearly, whenyouspend two months keepingto yourself(longer, ifI’mbeing entirelytruthful,sincebeforetheabduction)itbecomesahabitratherthanachoice.Iignoremyregretatmydecisiontoremain behind, knowingit’s for the best that I keep mydistance. The more time I spend withthe others, the more I might become temptedtotellthemthetruthaboutme,aboutwhytheHovabductedus
Sometimesitfeelsasiftheguiltfillssomuchofmeitbecomesmyentirepersonality.SometimesIlieinbedimaginingmy fleshandbonesturningintoliquidguiltasthoughmyskinisabagholdingallofmetogether Istretchmyarmsovermyhead,tryingtostandatmyfullheight.Mymusclestenseinprotestafteryesterday’sexertion.I’d havethoughtthepainacrossmyshouldersanddownmylegswouldmakememoremiserable,butI’mpleasantlypleasedbythe ache.TheacheisevidencethatyesterdayIleftthecavesandactuallydidsomething.
It wasn’t anything particularly productive. I didn’t even collect enough sand nuts to make an entire meal. But I did something, andthat’salotmorethanIdidthedaybeforeorthetwomonthsbeforethat Iwalkfromonesideoftheopenhangardoorstotheother,abouttwentystepsintotal.TheneedtobemovingisanitchI can’tquitereach Iwanttodosomething Iwanttogosomewhere
Maybe I could prepare a meal for everyone when they return. Or I could tidy my bedcave, which I’ve been sorely neglectingsinceImovedintoit.It’sbeenmoreofahidingplacethananactualbedroom.
ButIdon’tmoveawayfromtheopendoorsandthefreshair TogetbackintoHomeRoom,I’dhavetowalkthroughthe hangar stretched out behind me, passing Vyn and Kovel’s Freighter, and I can’t quite bear the idea of seeing the ship I’m supposedtobedecidingabout ScrapitforpartstomakeourlivesonRainlandmorecomfortableandfarmorepermanent,or leaveitintact,aconstantreminderthatIcould’vebeenlivingacompletelydifferentlifeifonlyIhadn’tsothoroughlytempted fate?
How isitthattodayIfinallyfeel braveenoughtodosomethingbutnotbraveenoughtodothethingsI’msupposedtobe doing?
Iclosemyeyes,focusingontheraindropsrollingdownmytoo-hotface,andtheanswercomeseasily:iftheothersknew how responsibleIamforusbeingstuckhere,theywouldn’thaveaskedmetocastthefinal vote.ForthatreasonIcan’tturn aroundandfacetheship
IfonlyI’dbeenhappywithmylifeasithadbeenbackonEarth,filledwithluxuriesRainlandwillneveroffer.IfonlyI’d
beenhappywithculinaryschoolandmygymregimeandmylittleapartmentwithaflushingtoiletandaworkingdishwasher,I wouldn’t have writtenthat stupid novel inthe first place. Iwouldn’t have beentempted to post weeklychapters to AO3. I wouldn’thaveimaginedmylifeinspaceamongthestars
ButIhadwrittenthatbook,takinginspirationfromthelikesofStar Wars and Star Trek and Blake’s 7 andothermoreerotic stories AndIhadposteditonline,essentiallylightingabeacon,tellingtheuniversethatIwasaneasytarget,thatIwantedto beabducted,thatIwantedalienstofindme andfuckme.
Irecalltheplatform,watchingitascendthemountainside
Iwasafuckingidiot.Iliterallydidn’tknowhowluckyIwasuntilitwasallsnatchedawayfromme.Iwouldtradeevery word Iwrote, everyfollower Igained, everykudos a reader gifted me to be backonEarthlivingmyold life. Iwould give everythingto nothave beenthe reasonJess and Emeryel and Rose and Calla were abducted bythe Hov Theymightall be happynowwiththeirMates,buttheircurrenthappinessdoesn’tabsolvemeofmysins.
Thesleepingangelisn’tquitehowIrememberhim.I’dforgottenhowextremelywhiteheis.Comparedtomybrownskinand blackhair,heappearsinsubstantial Aghost Oraspirit IfIcouldjustreachoutandtouchhim,myfingerswouldprobablyslip straight throughhis body, confirmationthat Ihave indeed invented him. That he is nothingmore thananother figment ofmy overactiveimagination
Or perhapshe'sinpurgatory.Trappedbetweenheavenandhell.Trappedbetweenbeingaliveandfinallydying.AndI’m filledwiththeabsurdneedtoswitchoffhiscryostasismachineandtowrenchthetubefromhisthroat tolethimliveordie byhisownchoice Surelyhavingachoiceisbetterthanbeingchainedtoastonewallforcountlesscenturies?
ButofcourseIdonothing.
I’mnotentirelysureforhowlongIstareathim Atsomepoint,Isitonthehardground,mylegspressedtomychestandmy armswrappedaroundmyknees.Istareathimfor solongmybrainplaystricksonmeinthehalf-darkness,andIcanalmost swearhiseyelidsflickerasthoughhiseyesareabouttoopen
You’re imagining it,Itellmyself.It’salwaysbeensoeasyformetocreatemonstersoutofshadows.TobuildMatesoutof myloneliness.Toliveinfictionandtoignorereality.
ButIknow exactlywherethatgotme andIshakemythumpinghead,tryingtoshakeloosemytraitorous imaginings,as onemightshakeawatchtostartthehandstickingagain.
Thebacksofmyeyeshurt,andI’msotiredIenduprestingmychinonmyknees,mybodygettingheavierandheavier IfI couldn’tsleeplastnightinmyownbed,Ishouldn’tbeabletosleepdownhere,surroundedbytombsandfacedwithacaptive alien Still,Ican’tstopyawning,nomatterhowhardItry Hecan’thurtme.Heisn’tafigmentofmydelusions.
MostofallIstareatthepointwherethechainscutstraightthroughhiswings,wonderingifthey’relikeearrings,wherethe skinhealsaroundthemetal?Orifthey’reopenwounds?Ican’tseebloodstaininghisbleachedfeathers
Iliedown,cushioningmyheadwithmyhands.I’msotiredthehardflooddoeslittletodistractme. Maybehiseyelidsareflickering Maybehe’sdreaming
Somethingwakes me I don’t know what, because whenI sit up everythinglooks the same as before I glance to the door, thinkingmaybeoneoftheothershasclimbeddownthestairs,butIcan’thearanyonetalking,norcanIhearfootsteps.
It’s impossible to tell the time with no natural light Days could have passed, and I’d be none the wiser The dark is repressive,andIsuddenlydon’twanttobedownhereanymore.Imusthavebeenhalfdelusionalwithexhaustiontohavefallen asleep, and when I look at the armI was lying on, I see red lines and indentations fromthe not-quite-smooth floor, as if somethingofthegreatcavernhasetcheditselfontomyskin
Irubatthemarks.Alreadythey’refading. Whatisn’tfadingarethe pinprickscars thatdotmyinner forearms Idon’tknow how Igotthem All Iknow is thatthey didn'tusedtobethereuntilIwokeuponaspaceship,eonsfromEarth. Isteptowardthesleepingalien He'satemptationfor myimagination,whichalreadywantstoweavemorestoriesabout howhemighthaveendedupdownhere.Iignoremynaturalinstincts,crossingmyarmsovermychest. There’s a furrow across his forehead I hadn’t noticed earlier. Like he’s frowning or trying to frown and not quite succeeding Andthenhiseyessnapopen.
Hanriell
AFemale stands before me. She is no figmentofmydelusion and neither amI. The painsearingits waythroughmybody assuresmeallthisisreal.Iamfinallyandirrefutablyawake.
Iblink, the lightfromthe bioluminescentinvertebrates like brightstars to myover-sensitive senses. The Female takes a stepcloser,hermouthopen,displayingtwosinglerowsofwhiteteeth,thetopfronttwoslightlyoverlapping,animperfection thatisfurtherproofIamnotdreaming
Blackspotsfillmyvision,thechainstyingmetothewallaretheonlyconstraintskeepingmybodyinonepiece.HadIthe choice,Iwouldrathercollapseintomyindividualpartsthankeepexistingthroughthisunbearablepain
ButbearitImust.Ihavenootherchoice.
‘No,no,no.’TheFemalefluttersherhandsbeforeherasifnotquitedaringtotouchme.Herskinisabeautifulsoftbrown. Hereyesarelargeandglisteningwithunshedtears.
‘Breath.You’renotbreathing.’Shegrabsthecryoapparatus,hittingandshakingthemech,searchingfortheswitchtoputme backunder Ascreamclawsatmythroat,butthereisnoairinmylungs HowthescuddingfekamInotbreathing?
‘Please!’Thetearsarerunningdownhercheeksnow,buttheblackspotsinmyvisionareswelling,andtheFemalefades outoffocus
Icannotdrawbreath.MychestisasstillasitwaswhenIwasinstasis.
‘Comeon.’Sheistouchingmenow,herhandsatmythroat,hertouchhotonmyicyskin,andthensomethingisbeingripped outofmyrawthroat Atube,Ithink
Airfillsmylungs,burningasthoughitcontainsembers,butIdonotstopgaspingmoreairintomybody.Notevenasthe darknessovercomesmeonceagain,andIfallmercilesslyintooblivion
Sonam
Hanriell
was wrong Before, locked incryostasis, Ithoughtnothingcould be worse thanbeingchained chemicallyand physically Now,Iknowbetter.Thisisworse beingfreetomove,knowingIhaveabodytomovebutbeingmuchtooweaktoevensit up
Instead,IliewhereIwoke,myfacepressedtothestonefloor,onearmtrappedawkwardlybeneaththerestofme.AllIcan doisfocusonmybreathing
In. Out. In. Out.
Thatatleastissomethingtobegrateful for.TohaveairflowinginandoutofmylungsisaprivilegeIwassureIwould neveragainexperience
Andthenthereisthesoundofmybloodbeingpumpedthroughmyveins.Intheeeriesilence,Icanhearthattoo,mypulse strong Ialsohearsomethingelse,somethingthatisnotme
TheFemalepullsinshortandshallowbreaths.IwishIcouldturnmyheadjustalittlesoIcouldseeher.
‘OhmyGod.OhmyGod.’
Hervoiceissoft,althoughIcannotunderstandherwords.SheisspeakingneithertheCommonTonguenoranylanguagemy translatorknows.ButIdonotneedtounderstandherwordstohearthepanicinhervoice.Ithinkshedidnotmeantowakeme. Aferalragewashesthroughmeattherealization Hadsheherway,Iwouldstillbechainedtothewall,lockedinunending stasis.
Instinctively, Iclenchmyfists, and eventhat slight movement drains awaymyfuryand myconcentration It is all Ican managetothinkofmybreathsagain.
In Out In Out
Had my eyes still been closed, I would have sworn there was an enormous weight on my back, but I am free of my bindings.Freeforthefirsttimein…HowlonghasitbeensinceIwasforciblyrestrainedanddrugged?
How longsince the caves liningthis larger cavernwere filled withthe dead ofthe Shadrax’os and Iwas left to guard them?AneternalpunishmentforacrimeIdidnotcommit.
NowIamasweakasanewborn,asunfamiliartobreathingasonewhohasnevertastedairbefore
Smallhandsgraspmyshoulders,andtheFemaleturnsmeovertolieonmyback.Myarmscrapsagainstthefloor,rough stonebitingintomyskin,andmywingsgettrappedunderme,afewofmyfeatherssnapping.IwishIcouldstillbeangry,but evenmyfleetingragetooktoomucheffort,effortIdonothavethestrengthtospend
ItisimpossibletocomprehendhowlongIliethere,staringupattheceiling.Icanhearhermovingaroundthecavern,her breathspanicked,herfootstepshurried Ilosecountofthenumberoftimesshestepsforward,nevercloseenoughformetosee her,andthenmovesawayagain.
Myskinisclammy Uncontrollableshuddersandshakesrackmybody,thebloodinmyveinssocoldIcanactuallyfeelitin eachofmylimbs.
IthinkIblackoutafewtimes.Iamnotentirelysure.Evenmywingsaretooheavytolift.Thewoundsthroughwhichthe Shadrax’oslacedthechainsthroblikeasecondheartbeat
‘Areyou…Areyoustillalive?’
IblinkastheFemalesuddenlyfillsmyvision,leaningoverme,herhandscoveringhermouth Asweepofhair,nearlyas darkasouterspace,fallsforwardoverhershoulders.
Sheisashen,forallthatherskinisdarkerthanmyownnear-translucentcoloring.Tearsclingtohereyelashesandglisten overhercheeks.Assheleansafractioncloser,Icanseethegoldenflecksinherbrownirises,starsinagalaxy.
Shehasnowings
OtherwiseIthinkwearenottoodissimilar.
Whenshetouchesherhandtomythroat,herskinisnotaspainfullyhotasthefirsttimeshetouchedme OrperhapsIamnot as cold, althoughI find that incrediblyhard to believe. Her fingers rest onmypulse, her gaze dartingover myface, never lingeringlongenoughonanyonespot,scaredtomakeeyecontactIthink ‘Idon’tknowwhatI’vedone.IswearIdidn’ttouchanything.’
Ipartmylips,intendingtospeak,butmytonguesuddenlyfeelsmuchtoobigformymouth,andtheonlysoundImakeisa hoarsegrunt,mythroatasdryasadessert
‘Oh.’Hereyeswiden.‘Waithere.’Shestumblesback,beforeturningandfleeingfromthecavern.Herfootstepsechoupthe walls,reverberatingovertherock,loudereventhanmyownbreaths
Shehasnoweapons,atleastnonethatIcandetermine.Shewearsnoarmor.Shehasnoclaws,sharpteethorspikes.Ican seenothingwithwhichshecandefendherself YetIknowthisisnotherbirthplanet
AndsheisnoShadrax’os,for all thatsheiswithinthecavestheycarved.Shehasnottheir antennaenor their protective plating.No,sheisnothingliketheoneswholockedmeinstasis,nothingliketheonesburiedintheirsarcophagusesaroundus. Theytrappedmedownherewiththeirdeadandthentheyleft,abandoningthisplanetjustastheyabandonedme Iponderherlackofweaponsandarmor.HaveIbeenlockedinstasisforsolongthatthegalaxieshavechangedsomuch? Areweaponsanddefenseunnecessarynow?
Thenagain,hadshenoweaponbutastone,Iwouldnothavebeenabletoprotectmyself;Icouldnotfightabioluminescent invertebrateinmycurrentstateandexpecttowin.
As sherushes away,exactlyhow utterlydefenseless Iamis morethanapparent.Icannotfollow her.Icannotstandup.I cannot even turn my head. I suppose I should be grateful that she did not leave me lying face down on the ground, as unimportantasadiscardedcarpet
ButIcanconjurenoemotionsstrongerthanmildalarm,tooweakeventoworryabouthowcloseIamtodeath.
Sonam
Iscoopwaterfromthelargepoolintomycuppedhandsandstartbackdownthepassagetothecavern.Waterleaksoutfrom betweenmyfingers,andIstumbletoahalt,myhandsalreadyempty.
Shit Heneedswater Atleast,ifhewerehuman,he’dneedwater Vorden,KerrokTorkstenandRose’stwoMatesalldrink water.Sosurelytheangeldoesaswell.
Ihaveliterallynothingbutmyhandswithwhichtocarryit,butevenI’mnotsopanickedastokeeptryingsomethingthat clearlywon’twork.Instead,IstripoffmyT-shirt,gratefulI’mwearingatanktopunderneath.IsoakmyT-shirtinthepooland don’twringoutthedripsasIrushbacktotheangel.
He’slyingexactlywhereIlefthim,andIdripwaterfrommyT-shirtintohismouth,liftinghisheadalittlesohedoesn’t choke.Hislipsareslightlyparted,andasIwatchtheycrackenoughthatdarkbloodoozesout.Itlooksmorelikesyrupthan blood,thickandsticky
Afew dropsofwaterlandinandaroundhismouth,andthenIusemyshirttodabathisforehead,liketheydoinperiod dramaswhennursingsomeonebacktohealth
I’vegotnofuckingideawhoheisorwhyhewaschainedtothewall,butIcan’tnothelp,notwhenhe’sclearlysosick. What if he dies? mybrainasks.Ican’tburyhimhere,whereeverythingismadeofrock.
Hiseyesflickerlikehe’stryingveryhardnottoclosethem Idon’tblamehim Iwouldn’twanttofallunconsciousagain, notaftercenturiesofunconsciousness.Hisirisesarewhite,bleachedofcolor.Justhispupilsarevisibleanddilatedsowide it’slikestaringintotwoblackholes,pitchblackagainsthispaleskin
‘Whatdoyouneed?Morewater?’
Butofcoursehedoesn’trespond;Idon’tthinkhecan,notafterhavingatubedownhisthroat Histhroatisprobablyasdry assandpaper.Thatthoughtgetsmemovingagain backandforthIhurrybetweentheangelandthewatercave,usingmycotton T-shirt.
It’slikecarryingrawriceinameshsack MostofthedripsfallbeforeI’vereachedhim,butslowlyIgetbetteratbundling thefabricinsuchawaythatitkindofdripsbackontoitself.
Hedoesn’tmovethewholetimeItrywettinghislips,mouthandthroat
I also use the T-shirt to clear the blood awayfromhis mouth, and while his lips staycracked, at least theydon’t keep bleeding ifthatwasreallyblood.
Ishudder
I’mnotanurseandI’mcertainlynotadoctor.Iknowalittlefirstaid.Everyoneatculinaryschoolhadtoknowhowtotreat aburnlongenoughtogetthepatienttohospital,butburnsareentirelydifferentfromcryostasis,andI’mcompletelyoutofmy depth.NotthatI’vegotmuchtimetostopandthinkaboutwhatI’mdoing.Iferrywaterfromthelaketotheangelforwhatfeels likehalfanhour
Ofcourse,ifIwasstrongenough,Iwould’vecarriedtheangeltothewater,butevenemaciatedasheis,Icouldhardlyturn himovertoliefacingup.
When sweat is pricking my forehead, I sit back on my heels, taking stock of the situation If I’d thought his skin was translucent earlier, I was kidding myself. Now he’s so pale, I can actually see the pulse in his neck. Veins decorate his otherwisepaleeyes,andhebreatheslaboriously,producingaraspinsteadofacleanwhoosh ofair
Thisisreallynotgood.Butitseemslikethere’snothingelseIcandobuttokeepshepherdingwaterintohisparchedmouth. Hoursmustpass Tirednesspullsatmybody,butIdon’tstop,notuntilIseehisfoottwitch,atinymovement Atinywin Panting,Isitbesidehim,brushingastrandofcolorlesshairoffhisface.It’sshavedshortatthesides,alittlelongerontop. Clearlyitdidn’tgrowwhilehewasinstasis,andneitherdidhisnails.
It’sonlynowIrealizehowmanyofhisfeathersarebentatstrangeangles,probablybrokenwhenIreleasedhischainsand hefelltothefloor.
‘I’msorry’Iwince,movingtositcross-leggednearhishead Leaningforward,Iliftoneofhisshouldersofftheground, just high enough that I can slip my other hand under his back to smooth his outstretched wing into what I hope is a more comfortableposition.
Theall-whitefeathersaren’tsoftexactly.Certainlythey’renotdownyfeathersyou’dusetostuffapillow.Thesearemuch longer, each at least as long as my forearm flight feathers, I think they’re called. And I’mfilled with the uncomfortable knowledgethatallIknowaboutwingscomesfrommystudiesatculinaryschoolwhenwecertainlyweren’ttryingtopreserve feathers.
WhenIaccidentallybrushmyhandovertheholewherethechainhadcutstraightthrough,hewinces ‘Sorry.’ButI’mnotreallythatsorry.Awinceisamovement,andit’smorethanhecouldmanagewhenhefirstwokeup. He’salsostoppedshaking,althoughhisskinisstillicy,socolditstingsmyfingertips.Idon’tletthatstopmefromliftinghis othershoulderandsmoothinghisotherwingstraight orwhatIcanreachofitnowhisheadisrestinginmylap.
There’sasmalllumpinhisneck,behindoneofhisears,andit’ssickeninglyeasytofeeltheshapeofit,hisskinclammy andthin Atranslator Well,that’ssomething ItouchthesmalllumpofmytranslatorwithmyotherhandatthesametimeI’m touchinghim.Aboltofwhatfeelslikeelectricityzipsthroughme,andIcan’thelpbutsnatchmyhandsback.
‘Hello?’Myvoice is tentative inthe otherwise near silence I’ve burntthroughall myadrenaline and amleftwithonly tiredness.‘Canyouunderstandme?’
Hiseyesflicker,buthesaysnothing,soI’vegotnowayofknowingifIsuccessfullysyncedourtranslatorsornot.
Islumpuntilmybacktouchesthecavernwallbehindme,theweightofhisheadnumbingmylegs Howhorribleitmustbe tofeelsocoldandtobetrappeddownherewithnofreshair.
Chapter Seven
Hanriell
mustsleep, a true dreamless sleep, because whenInextopenmyeyes myhead is restinginthe Female’s lap One ofher handsisrestingonmyshoulder.Hereyesareclosed,andherbreathingissteady.
Excruciatinglyslowly,Isitup
Mybones ache,butalittlestrengthhas returnedtomymuscles,andImaneuver myselftositbesideher,restingmyback againstthecavernwallasthoughitisthemostluxuriousofchairs
Onlymywingsremaincompletelylimp,themajortendonsdamaged,andwhenIattempttomovethemnothinghappens,the commandgettinglostsomewhereinmybodyasittravelsfrombraintowings.Iclampdownonthepanicthreateningtosurge upmythroat Mywingscanwait RightnowIhaveothermatterstoattend
Seatedsidebysideasweare,IturnmyheadtowatchtheFemale.Sheissmaller thanIfirstnoticed,atleasttwoheads shorterthanme Herarmsarethincomparedtomyown,eveninmyweakenedstate
Therearefrownlinesaroundhermouth,anddarkshadowsunderhereyes.Eveninsleep,herbodyholdstension.Icansee itinhershoulders,herneck,herjaw.She’sclenchingherteeth,andamusclejumpsinhercheek.
Concentrating,Iliftahandtotouchherarm.Herskinissoft,andwearealmostatthesametemperaturenow.Shemutters unintelligibly,shiftingtorestherheadonmyarm.
I thinkshe did not meanto wake me More importantly, she did not abandonme Evenwhenshe could so easilyhave walkedawayandleftmetoperishshechosetostay.
Sonam
Iwake witha start. Ididn’tmeanto fall asleep again, and it’s impossible to know how muchtime has passed. Ilookatthe cryostasismachine,butofcoursetheangelisn’tthere.Norisheintheenormouscavern.
Scramblingto myfeet, Isearchthe small ground-floor caves leadingoffthe maincavern Atthe center ofeachone is a grave.Carvedfromstone,they’reaboutthreefeettallandaslongasIamtall.Inonecave,therearetwoofthesegraves,only oneissignificantlysmallerthantheothers
Theangel isgone.Iclosemyeyesandpresstheheelsofmyhandstomyeyelids,flightingafreshwaveofunshedtears. Shouldn'tIbe pleased he left? Ifhe never comes back, Iwon’thave to admitto the others thatIwas here whenhe woke. I won’thavetoadmittohavingmadeanotherhugefuckingmistake
Weallagreedthattheriskofwakinghimwastoogreat.Weknow nothingabouthim.Hemighthavekilledallthepeople buriedinthistomb
Myheartseemstodropintomystomach.Whatifhe’salreadyfoundtheothers?Whatifhekillsthemtoo?
Isprintfromthecavernandthroughthecontrolroom Racingaroundthelake,Iskidtoahaltatthebottomofthestairs He’s inthe lake, floatingonhis backwithhis wings spread outoneither side ofhim. He’s stripped offhis clothes and dumpedthemtooneside.Ialmostmissedseeinghim,he’ssostillandpale.
Hell.Iwrapmyarmsaroundmystomach,wishingIcouldslowthedesperatebeatofmyracingheart.
Hiseyesareopen.He’sstaringupattheceiling,watchingthereflectedwaterdancingovertherock.Hislipsareslightly parted,butIcan’tquitereadhisexpressionforallthatwesharesimilarfacialfeatures Heisn’trelaxed,Ithink There’stoo muchtensioninhisshoulders.Butheisn’texactlyonhighalerteither.
The skinofhis chestis justas translucentas his face andhands His legs are long,his bodyslim,althoughIcansee the shadowsofwitheredmuscles.Ithinkheusedtobealotbroaderandmoredefinedacrosstheshoulders.
There’s a softscatteringofhair over his chest, culminatingina small triangle thatpoints to his flaccid dick He doesn’t haveanypubichairthough,andIhurriedlyavertmygazebeforehecannoticewhereI’mlooking.
‘Areyouokay?’
‘Icanunderstandyounow’Hedoesn’tsitup Hedoesn’teventurnhisheadtolookatme
‘Yeah.’Itakeastepcloser tothewater’sedge.Shallow waveslapattherock,ripplingoutfromhisbody.‘Isyncedour translators’
‘Howlong?’
Iclearmythroat IwishIcouldthinkofsomewaytochangetheconversation,butIsupposeIcan’tputofftheinevitable forever.‘Youwere incryostasis for a longtime,’IsayinwhatIhope is mymostgentle voice.‘We’re notsure exactlyhow long,butwethinkitwasseveralcenturiesatleast.’
Hecloseshiseyes Abreathrattlesuphisthroat
‘Youdidn’tleave…’Hisvoicetrailsaway,andImisstheendofhissentence.
‘Sorry?’
Finally,hetwistsslightlyinthewatertolookatme,sendingmorebabywavestolapatmyfeet.I’mstandingsoclosetothe waterthetoesofmyshoesgetwet.‘Youareapologizingforstaying?’
‘What?’Ifrown.‘No,ImeanIdidn’thearwhatyousaid. Sorry, asinsorry, could you repeat what you just said.’ Hestudiesmeforalongwhile.Ican’tstopmyselffromshiftingfromfoottofoot.Idon’tenjoybeingstaredat,particularly bysomeonewhoseexpressionsIcan’tyetread Hecouldbethinkingabsolutelyanythingaboutme,andIwouldn’tknow Irubthebackofmyneck,pretendingI’mcheckingmytranslatorjustforsomethingtodowithmyhands.
Thewholetimehelooksatme,hedoesn’tonceblink Earlier,Ithoughthewastryingtokeephiseyesopenbecausehewas afraid offallingunconscious after so longinstasis. Now, I’mwonderingifnotblinkingis his normal state ofbeing. Idon’t thinkInoticedearlier ifhehas anyeyelashes.Ifhedoes,Ican’tseethemnow.Either they’retoopaleor he’s toofar away. Whateverthereasonforhimnotblinking,it’sunnerving.Blackpupils,whiteirises,darkveins.
BeforeIcanbeginmyretreat,hereturnstofloatingonhisback,hisgazebackontheceiling.
‘Isaid youdid not leave me whenIfell asleep’There’s anincredible amount ofpaininhis words, and whenhe says asleep, itsoundsalmostasifhehastoforcethewordfromhismouth.
MaybeIshould’velefthim MaybeIshould’vesprintedawayasfastashumanlypossible MaybeIshould’vepretendedto everyone,evento myself,thatIdidn’tknow he was awake. ThatwayIwouldn’thave to take responsibilityfor wakinghim afterIagreedwiththeotherstoleavehimsleeping.
Idrop mystill damp T-shirt onto the ground, toe offmyshoes and unbuttonmyjeans before Icanthinktwice and stop myself.Strippingdowntomypantiesandtanktop,Isitattheedgeofthewateranddanglemyfeetin.Ican’tfeelthebottom.In fact,thewater’ssodark,Ithinkthebottommustbedeepindeed
BeforeRainland,Iwouldneverhavestripednearlynakedbeforeaman,especiallyastranger.SinceRainland,I’veslowly cometorealizepeopleseeingmeinmyunderwearistheleastofmyworries AlthoughIstillhavetoresistthenigglingurgeto crossmyarmsovermytummy.
‘Iwasn’tsureyouweregoingtomakeit,’Itellhimtruthfully.‘Icouldn’thavejustleftyoulike…’Like that It’smyturnto trailoff Idon’twanttodrawanymoreattentiontohisvulnerablestate Foronce,I’mnottheworst-offintheroom Imightbe onthevergeofcryingagain,butI’mphysicallystrongerandhealthierthanheis,andthatgivesmealittleboostofconfidence. Or maybethatknowledgejusthelpsknockalittlesenseintome Nomatter how crapmylifeis,there’salwayssomeone who’sgoingtobehavingaworsetimeofit.
Ijustforgotthatfor a bit, seeingas I’ve spentthe lastfew months surrounded byhappycouples Butthe world doesn’t beginandendonRainland.
Theworlddoesn’tbeginandendwithmeandmyoverflowingemotions.
There’sanentireuniverseoutthere,beyondtheclouds Andbeyondthatuniverse,maybethere’sanotherone Maybethere arecountlessuniverses.Allfilledwithaliensdoingtheirbesttosurvivewhateverlifehasthrownatthem.
Islipintothewater,paddlingjustfarenoughawayfromtheedgethatIcancopytheangelandlieonmyback I’vealways loved swimming, always loved the feelingofwater holdingonto me. Myhair fans around me, darkas night, and I’mnearly weightless.
Nowonderhecamehere:aftersomanyyearsofbeingtiedup,alittleweightlessnessmustbenice,forabodyisaheavy burden.
Hanriell
ou were in stasis for a long time Several centuries at least TheFemale’swordsmarcharoundmyheadasifIamStar Academyandtheyarethestudentsflyingtotherhythmofthebeatingdrums.Myhandsclose,seekingthehiltofmysword, longsincediscardedbymycaptors
IhavenothingofthemeagerpossessionsItookwithmefromhome.Notmyweapon,notmyclothes.
WouldmyownclotheshaveevensurvivedthosehundredsofyearswhileIslept?WasthatwhyIwasdressedinthatitchy tunicandbreeches?DressedinallblackasthoughIwerealivingstatue,alwaystoremainguardingthedeadIdidnotkill. Iscoopwaterintomyhand,anditescapesfrombetweenmyfingers.
Several centuries at least Several centuries at least
Thatishundredsofyears.MoreyearsthananyInnark’osissupposedtolive.Andthenathoughtcomes,asthoughbeforeI hadnottheenergynorthecapacitytothinkit:everyoneIhaveeverknownisdead Ipressmyeyestightlyclosed.Theyarealldead.AndIamherestill,inmyownwakingnightmare. Theyarealldead.Alldead.Alldead.
AngerlikeIhaveneverfeltbeforesurgesthroughme.IwanttokilleverysingleShadrax’oswhodidthistome.Nobody shouldoutlivetheirtime.Nobodyshouldremainsurvivingwhentheirentireworldhasdied. Iwillkillthemall
Iwillhavemyrevenge.
‘Idon’tevenknowyourname’ Ijump.Watersplashes.IhadforgottenIwasnolongeralone.
IturnmyheadalittletoonesidesoImayseeher.Sheisfloatingashortdistancefromthefurthesttipofmywing.Herlegs are bare, and the small sleeveless undershirtshe wears has turned nearlytransparent, giftingme a tantalizingglimpse of… anotherundershirt?Iamconfused.Thisoneappearsonlytobecuppingherbreasts,breastswhichareconsiderablylargerthan anyoftheFemalesofmyownspecies Iamcaptivatedbythem theshape,thesize Largeenoughtheywouldfillmyhands HowhadInotnoticedhershapebefore?Sheisallcurvesandsoftness.Herskinislikesilk,completelysmoothoverevery inchofherIcansee
Acravingtotouchhertensesmybody,mycockstirringforthefirsttimein…inhoweverlongIwastrapped.
Several centuries at least Herwordscontinuetheirmarcharoundmyhead.
‘Idonotknowyournameeither’Ireturntostaringupattheceiling ‘Really,wedon’tknowanythingabouteachother.’ Ihear rather thanseeher movinginthewater,andIresisttheurgetocheckifshehas movedcloser Thetipofmyright wingtinglesinanticipationofhertouch.Itdoesnotcome.
‘Thisisnottrue Iknowyouarenotplanet-bound,butnorareyouofanyspeciesIhaveencounteredbefore Youmusthave traveledfartoreachthisplanet.’ Noresponse.
‘Youarenotafighter Youcarrynoweapons,nordoyouhaveabodythathasbeentrainedforcombat’ Moresilence.ThistimeIcannotstopmyselffromlooking.Shehasmovedtothelake’scenter,puttingsomespacebetween us,andIstraightentoseeherproperly Herhairislikeinkonthesurfaceofthelake Iwouldrunmyfingersthroughit,butI fearitwoulddisappearbeforeIcouldtouchit.IfearshewoulddisappearbeforeIcouldtouchher.
No longer floating, my long unused muscles ache with the effort of treading water, and so I rely mainly on the natural buoyancyofmywingstokeepmyheadabovethesurface.
‘Youareahealer,’Icontinue,myvoicecrackedwithdisuse ‘You ’
‘I’mnot.’Shecutsthroughmywords,herownvoiceclearandcrisp.‘I’veneverhealedanything.I…Imademistakesthat hurtpeople’Hercheeksdarkenprettily ‘PretendIdidn’tsaythat’
‘Pretend?Ihavespenttoolongbetweenwakinganddreamingtowanttopretendanything.’
‘Whywereyoutiedup?Whatdidyoudotodeservethat?’Shekicksthewater,propellingherselfevenfurtherfromme I envytheeasewithwhichsheswims.Herbodyrespondstohereverycommand.Sheisnoweakling.
‘Ididnothing.’
‘Youdidn’thurtpeople?Youdidn’tkill anyone?Areyougoingtohurtme?’Sheasks thelastquestionas ifitis oflittle importance.Perhapsshealreadyknowstheanswer.Whyelsewouldshehaveclimbedintothewaterwithme?
‘Iwillnothurtyou Youaretheonewhosavedme IcouldnomorehurtyouthanIcouldhurtmyself’ Already,freshwavesofexhaustionarepullingatmybody.IdonotthinkIcanstayawakeformuchlonger.Iscrubatmy stingingeyeswiththeheelofonehand,forcingmyselftostayalert Iwishtoneverneedsleepagain Surelyhundredsofyears isenoughsleeptosustainaMalefortherestofhislife.
‘I’vebeenthinkingaboutitalot,andIknowIdidn’twakeyou.Inevertouchedyour…machine-thingy.Ijusthappenedto benear whenyouwokeup Ididn’tdoanything’Shereiterates thelastfew words withasternnod,as iftryingtoconvince herselfofthetruth.
‘Youwoke me’Iamnot surprised bythe convictioninmyvoice, evenifshe evidentlyis Her neat brows rise as she continuestotreadwater.‘Ifeltyourpresence.Itremindedmeofwhatwasrealandwhatwasnot.Youbeingsocloseproved tomethatIstillexist.’Itouchahandtomyveryreal,veryaliveself.
Iamalive,forallthatIhardlyrecognisemybody.
Several centuries at least.
‘IamHanriell’ItfeelsimpossiblyimportantthatIspeakmynamealoud IneverwanttolosesenseofwhoIamorwhereI am,yetIcannotresisttheurgetosleepformuchlonger.
‘It’s nice to meet you I think’She gives her head a little shake, her longhair settlingaround her shoulders, sprawled carelesslyoverthelake’ssurface.‘I’mSonam.’
‘Iwishyouonlygoodthings,Sonam.’The traditional greetingfalls easilyfrommymouth,andImeaneveryword,more thanIeverhavebefore.
Easily,sheswimsbacktothelake’sedgetoourdiscardedclothes,butshedoesnotclimboutofthewater.Ifollowherand gratefullytakeholdoftherockledge WearenearenoughthatIcouldreachoutandtouchher Ithinkshewouldnotpullback Sheiswatchingmeclosely,butthereisnothinginthewaysheholdsherselfthatsuggestsshefearsme orthatIneedtofear her Thewaterlapsslowlyinthenarrowspacebetweenus
Asshebreathesout,Ibreathein.Ifonlyitwerepossibletobreathealittleofherlifeandherstrengthintome.
Closingthegaptakesalmostnoeffort,andIbowmyhead,movingslowlyenoughthatshecouldeasilyleanaway.Herlips aresoftandplumpagainstmine Icannotstopthemoanoflongingeventhoughitisabriefkiss,achastetouchingofourlips andnothingmore.
Shetastesof of somethingthatismorethanjustair Shetastesoffreedom
Her eyes widen, and she pulls back. ‘What ’She presses a hand to her mouth. She has bluntwhite-tipped nails, and a smallburnscaronthebackofherhand,runningupherlongestfinger SuchasmallimperfectionIcouldneverhaveimagined myself.Itisbeautiful,andIwouldkisseachofherfingers,ifonlysheknewaboutkissing.
‘ToanInnark’os,thepressingtogetheroflipsmeansmanythings,’Iexplain.‘Ashowofgratitude,ashowofappreciation.’ Adeclarationofattraction
AdesperateattempttoremindmyselfIamnotalone.
Several centuries at least
Herfaceheats,andshedropsherhandbackintothewaterwithasplash.
‘Youstillhaven’tansweredmyquestion’Aglanceatme Ahurriedlookaway ‘Whywereyoutiedup?Whywereyouin cryostasis?Id-deservetoknow.’Theslighthesitationbetraysherself-doubt.
‘Youdodeservetoknow,’Iconfirm,forallthatIdonotwishtospeakaboutit.‘I
’Nowthetimehascome,Iamnotsure where to start ‘Have youever seenothers who looklike me?’Iheave myshoulders straightand liftmychin The muscles alongmybackscreamtheiranger.
HadIknownwhatwouldhappentomeonthisplanet,Iwouldhavevoluntarilyflownstraightpastthisplanetevenifithad meantflyingintotheendofexistence.
Apause.ThenSonamshakesherhead.Icannottellifsheisbeingtruthful.AsIknowofnoreasonforhertolie,Iaccept heranswer.
‘TheInnark’osareanoldspecies,’Isay,usingtheCommonTonguenameformypeople.‘Wehaveexistedformorethana
hundredmillennia.’
Nosignofrecognitionlights her amber eyes.Isuddenlyfeel like Ihave livedfor a hundredmillennia,the weightofmy storyheavyonmyshoulders
‘Ahundredmillenniaistoolongatimeforasingleplanettoremainsustainableforanyonespecies.Wecouldnotcontinue inhabitingInnarkifwewishedtosurviveanotherhundredmillennia Somanyofmypeopleweresentamongthestarsinsearch ofanewplanet,anewhome.Includingmyself.’
Fromchildhood,IhadbeenamongthosethousandsofadolescentschosentotrainatStarAcademysothatwhenIcameof ageIcouldbesentintothegalaxies,onemoreInnark’ostocontinuethesearch.
OldpainsigniteasIthinkofthedayIfarewelledmydyingplanet,knowingIwouldnever returnbutfilledwithafierce determinationthatmaybeIwouldbetheonetosaveusall
‘Itraveled into uncharted space, hopingthatitmighthide a planetwithinits depths. We need … needed ’Ifalter, not knowinginwhichtense to speak Are the Innark’os still searching, or did theyfind a new home while Iwas imprisoned in stasis?
Several centuries at least
‘YoufoundRainland.Imean,youfoundthisplanet.’
‘Is that what you call it? Yes, I found Reign-land.’An apt name; it has reigned over me. ‘There was already a small settlementhere,anotherspace-travelingspecieswhohadcolonizedthisplanetforsimilarreasons Theirpopulationhadbeen depleted,andtheywelcomedmyarrival.’
IhadthoughtIhadfoundtheperfectnew home IthoughtIhadachievedwhatsomanycountlessStarAcademygraduates hadfailed.Until…Iclearmythroat,wishingitdidnotsoundsorawandfullofpain.‘Soonaftermyarrival,therewasaplanet quake.Manybouldersfellfromthemountains.’
IsuddenlydonotcareifIfallasleep.Ijustneedtoliedown.Iattempttopullmyselffromthewater,butmyarmsshake, andmyelbowsgivewayundermyweight.
‘Here’Sonampressesahandtomybackbetweenmyuselesswings,andpushes Sheisnotstrongenoughtoliftme,buther touchis the pushIneed,andIheave myselfup.Iamnotgraceful,kickingatthe water topropel myself,butIslide ontothe rock Heedlessofbendingmorefeathers,Icollapseontomyback
‘Peopledied,’sheguessesassheliftsherselfouttositbesideme.Icanonlybejealousoftheeaseinwhichshemoves. ‘Theydid.’
‘Andthesurvivorsblamedyou?’
Theconfirmationsticksinmythroat.‘WhenIfirstfoundthisplanetandtheShadrax’oswhohadnewlycolonizedit,Ihad littleunderstandingofjusthow superstitiousaspeciestheywere Myarrival coincidedsocloselywiththeplanetquakethat theylinkedthetwounrelatedeventstogether.’
Several centuries at least
‘Theycovered their touchskininpermanentink,’Itell her. ‘Theythoughtdifferentsymbols placed ondifferentparts of theirbodiescouldprotectthemfromevil.Asifevilissomethingthattakesformorthatdistinguishesbetweenonepersonand another’Ishakemyhead,disbelievingly ThereislittleIknowoftheShadrax’osasIwasonlyonReign-landforafewdays before the planet quake and mysubsequent imprisonment, but their inane superstitions developed over the lifetime of their specieshadbeenimpossibleformetomiss,forallthatIdidnotimmediatelyrealizehowdangeroustheywouldbecome
‘MyAjjiwassuperstitious,’Sonamsays.‘EventhoughshewasaChristian.Sheusedtothinkthatifshedrewablackdot onthebottomofsomeone’sfeetusinganeyelinerpencilbeforetheyleftthehouse,shecouldprotectthemfromsickness But …Iguessthat’snotquitethesamething.’
Notall her words translate. Before Icanaskfor clarification, she plucks atthe sheer fabric ofher undershirt, pullingit awayfromherskin,distractingme Assoonasshereleasesthedrenchedfabric,itgluesitselfbacktohercurvedbody There are many similarities between us we share the same number of heads, torsos, arms, legs, fingers and toes but it is the differenceswhichfascinateme
Withnowings,her backissmooth,unmarkedbytheropesofmusclesneededfor flight.Infact,all ofher issmooth.Her skin,her hair Unlike myownspecies,Ithinkher skinmustbe made fromsilk,woventogether intoher ultimate formbythe handsofthegoddessoftheoldworld.Iwouldtouchherdampskinjusttofeelherbeatingpulse,justtoreassuremyselfthat sheisstillherewithme.
Foramoment,Iholdmybreath,listeningcarefully,thinkingthestillnesswillbetrayher,butIcanhearherbreathing Itis musictome.
Allthatmarkshercomplexionaretheharshshadowsthatdarkenherface,exaggeratingthesunkensemi-circlesunderher eyes.ShelooksalmostasexhaustedasIfeel.
Several centuries at least
Notmuchaboutthislakeanditscavehaschangedinallthattime.Iwatchthebioluminescentinvertebratescrawloverthe ceiling,specksoflightoverdarkrock,thesoftrippleofthewaterreflectedbackatme.Itisbeautiful,andatthesametimeI
