Playing God (6 page)

But they made it to the open door at last, to breathe the fresh air of the t’Aori peninsula, and to see that a thick curtain of rain fell outside.

“’Esaph piss,” muttered Praeis. She should have thought. There was no room for her to drop her bags and strip out of her sarong. She hated the slimy feeling of wet cloth on skin.

As soon as Praeis emerged from the shuttle, the rain spattered hard against her scalp and ears. The lovely, flowing sarong that she had worn expressly to show her sisters that exile did not mean beggary, began to stick to her shoulders, belly guard, and torso. She closed her first eyelid and surveyed the world through the film of the membrane.

The ramp to the ground was a smooth, slick affair that Humans could manage. All of them got to the ground without falling, however, and she felt strangely triumphant. She’d made it. She stood upright with her firstborn daughters on the ground of her home.

Theiareth waved her ears, spat energetically, and ground the spittle into the pavement with her heel. “Bless this ground of my Great Family!”

“Very pious, Theia, but we’re holding up the line.” Resaime yanked her sister to one side so a single female Human followed by a pair of smoky blue near-family sisters could get past.

Theiareth cuffed her sister’s shoulder. “You’re so excited you’re panting, Res, so don’t teach at me.”

Resaime closed her open mouth and looked up at Praeis. “Where are we going?”

Praeis narrowed her nostrils against the rain and looked sharply around. She’d hoped either her sisters or the Queens would send an escort, but she saw no sign of one.

The familiarity of the place reassured her, though. This was really an airport which had been adapted for spacegoing use, as the t’Therians had no civilian space capabilities and only extremely limited military ones. She could just see the towers and “guns” of the satellite launcher. The Humans were busy putting up new buildings left and right, but it was still mostly the port she had left with a dozen refugees in a Human mercenary’s cramped, dirty ship. None of them ever expected to come back, least of all Praeis Shin.

The shuttle’s passengers, some of them Bioverse advisors, some of them returning refugees, made their way down the ramps to mix with passengers from the few military and civilian planes that dotted the cement. They picked their way between clusters of booths whose owners, most of them stripped down to their belly guards for the rain, shouted about cheap transport, clean lodging, the ability to find anyone anywhere, reasonable rates! Fresh food! Clean water! Homecoming gifts for your mother, your sisters! Immunity!

Praeis’s ears jerked at that and swiveled to focus on the voice.

“Immunity! Immunity from joint rot and fever, all sorts! Guaranteed!” Praeis’s nostrils closed and opened again. More than one of the boothers were shouting similar promises. Paying customers clustered around them. The plague was good business for some.

Battered motor skids, pedal cars, and carts drawn by long-necked
alar
or huge, blocky
oena
waited in a ragged curve beyond the booths, along with a few of the gleaming, enclosed vans the Humans used for themselves.

Over it all stood the soldiers in their watchtowers. They wore pearlescent body armor and brown boots, and all kept their eyes and ears fixed on the crowd, even though their guns were at rest. Their pale skin, more grey than blue, declared them all to be t’Smeras. Technically, the port was on their land, and the paper peace gave them the right to defend it. Praeis noted with quiet satisfaction that their armament was no stronger than needed for normal security work. There were no shields up, no signs of heavy weapons. Things for the moment must be fairly peaceful, probably no more than the usual skirmishes on the borders with the t’Ciereth and the t’Ianain.

With the relocation due to start soon, even those might have stopped. Everybody might be too busy trying to prepare themselves to be moved onto the city-ships. She’d hear the defense status from her sisters, but until then she could allow herself to hope.

Praeis dropped her gaze back to the port in time to see a cluster of three sisters shuffle through the crowd, leading a father swaddled in a thick blue jacket. His ears lay flat back against his skull, and he sniffed the air restlessly as they pulled him forward.

Praeis bowed briefly as the sisters and the father passed. A small wind stirred, and she caught his rich scent. So did her daughters. Theiareth’s nostrils widened in surprise. The father touched Theiareth’s shoulder, pawing her briefly and staring with vacant, soulless eyes. The sisters pulled his hand back, murmured their apologies, and led him away.

Theiareth gripped the place where he had touched her and swallowed hard.

“Are you good?” asked Praeis. “That was not expected.”

“I’m good.” Theiareth’s skin rippled uneasily. “I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re about to vomit,” announced Resaime.

“Thank you for bringing that to our attention, Resaime,” said Praeis.

Theiareth was staring after the father with a mix of horror and fascination in her eyes. Praeis took hold of Theiareth’s chin and pulled on it, gently but firmly, until Theia was looking straight at her. “It is a natural part of life, Theia, and one day it’s going to be me and you.”

“None of us would allow you to be hauled around in public,” she grumbled. “Don’t they have any feeling?”

“The Getesaph let theirs wander loose in the street,” remarked Resaime, primarily to see what her sister would do, Praeis was sure.

“And that makes it good. Perfect reasoning, Res.”

“Theiareth, you are such a prude.”

“Oh, I suppose when your soul drops from your belly to your crotch I should—”

“Enough!” Praeis bared her teeth. “Do you have manners, and did I warn you to mind them? Are you going to make us all sound like barbarians to our blood family?”

In perfect chorus her daughters said, “But she—”

“If I cared, you would have known it by now.” Privately, she cursed the three strangers for bringing the father outside like this. The touch had unsettled Theiareth. She and Resaime both were old enough to feel the private swellings from the touch and scent. Both of them were squirming and trying very hard not to.

She pulled them both under the narrow overhang of a maintenance shed, out of the main flow of foot traffic, and temporarily out of the worst of the rain.

“Come on, daughters, let’s get out of these.” Praeis dropped her bags and unpinned her sarong, peeling it off her skin and belly guard. Her skin shivered with relief. Resaime and Theiareth relieved themselves of their kilts and tunics and handed them over to Praeis. She wrung them out and stuffed them into the carryall, hoping she hadn’t put anything with colors that would run in there.

“Praeis Shin t’Theria!”

Praeis straightened up immediately. A pair of arms-sisters, looking heavy and awkward in their body armor, shouldered their way through the crowd. As they approached, a delighted flush of recognition ran through Praeis.

“Neys! Silv!” Praeis embraced her old arms-sisters, laughing from pure joy. “What are you doing here?”

“What are we doing here?” Neys, short, tight-skinned and obviously still fond of good meals, filled her voice with exaggerated effrontry. “We’ve been sent to convey you and your daughters safely to the Home of Queens, and we’ve been standing in the rain waiting for you for the last hour.”

“Then you should meet my daughters.” Praeis brought Theia and Res in front of her. “Resaime Shin t’Theria, Theiareth Shin t’Theria. Daughters, my arms-sisters, Silvi Cesh and Neys Cesh.” Shoulder clasps were exchanged, heartily by the arms-sisters and hesitantly by the daughters.

“So, come along, come along! The Queens await!” Silv was as short as her sister, but much more sparely built. She grabbed up three of the satchels before Praeis could protest and strode unceremoniously back into the crowd.

Neys waggled her ears and grabbed up the other three bags. “All things must be as my sister commands,” she said cheerfully as she set off after Silv.

Praeis laughed and shook her head. Those two had not changed, except for the merit markings on their armor. While she had been building a city for refugees, they had served their people with diligence, honor, and bravery. She took Res’s and Theia’s hands and hurried after Neys and Silv before she lost sight of them.

Silv piled their baggage into a spotless frame car with ROYAL GUARD written in large letters on the front and urged them all to take their places and make themselves comfortable. Praeis crammed into the backseat with her daughters. Neys and Silv took their places in the front

Silv started the loud, choppy engine and drove unimpeded through the port gate, then across the gap between the first wall and the second. Beyond the flat, concrete security zone, they drove through ancient gates that had been reinforced with steel and titanium and into the city t’Theria.

Instantly, the car was overshadowed by narrow buildings constructed as a series of short, interconnecting corridors. They all had thick, small windows and brightly painted walls. Many of the murals had been faded by soot or had peeled off where no one had repainted them. Canals paralleling the streets ran black and choked with weeds, moss, and garbage.

They passed one of the debate walls. A small cluster of mothers, sisters, and even a few daughters read the essays fastened to the wall or sat listening to the two sisters who pontificated at the wall’s far end.

Shacks and shanties of scavenged material leaned against the sides of buildings where people paid enough fees for a solid roof and walls, but not enough for the owners to take care of the impoverished. Here and there the trees that grew beside the buildings and the vines that draped down them were broken and burned, showing that peace had not been complete or long-lasting here. A few boothers pulled carts loaded with their stands and wares down the sidewalk. A few near family scurried along as if they were afraid they’d be seen.

It was then that Praeis realized the city was almost deserted. Her memory crammed the streets and the branching overhead walkways with bodies. Families lived on their blankets in the alleys and hawked food and services to the passing traffic. Boats steered up and down the canals. The sailors cursed one another and the occasional idiot who decided to swim for it with equal vigor. Arms-sisters paced or paraded in blocks of two or three dozen, holding up all kinds of traffic.

But now there wasn’t enough noise to make itself heard over the frame car’s engine. She’d counted perhaps twenty pedestrians. The canals were completely empty.

“Ancestors Mine,” she breathed. “How many of us did the plague take?”

Silv kept her eyes and ears pointed straight ahead. “Half.”

“Half?”
The word choked Praeis.

“So far,” added Silv grimly. “At least we’ve cleared the corpses from the canals.”

Praeis’s ears drooped until the tips brushed her shoulders. She felt her daughters’ hands on her arms, but felt no warmth. She had seen the deaths in the colonies, she had lost her sisters and four of her daughters, but to watch the sisters falling in their millions…

Half so far. Oh, my Ancestors, how did we come to this?

Silv took a hard left, and the frame car rattled and banged over a canal bridge. The buildings opened out to form the broad mall that fronted the moats and bridges surrounding the great wall of the Home of Queens.

They were obviously expected. As their car approached, the main gate swung regally open, and Silv drove straight through into the ancient cobbled yard.

“Neys, take them to the doors.” Silv braked next to one of the guard shacks. “I’ll put the car away, stow the luggage, and bring the honor guard to meet you.”

“As you say, Sister,” Neys agreed amiably. “Perhaps we should make sure they’re checked in, first.”

“Perhaps we should,” agreed Silv dryly. Neys waggled her ears and climbed out of the car. Praeis and her daughters followed.

“She does believe in taking charge, doesn’t she?” remarked Res softly, but not quite softly enough.

“She always has,” Neys said slyly. “Has your mother told you about the time—”

“Later, Neys,” said Praeis desperately. “As Silv rightly pointed out, the Queens await.”

Neys took them into the guard shack, where a pair of bored third-sisters searched them for weapons, recent scars, or signs of illness, and eventually wrote their names in a log as passed for entry. Res and Theia bore the entire process without complaint. Praeis had warned them it would happen. What surprised her was how badly she squirmed while she watched her daughters poked and prodded by the guards.

“Fine children,” said Neys as she led them across the yard. “Your only?”

“I lost their sisters to the plague,” said Praeis. A sharp pain ran through her as she spoke the words.

A flicker of sorrow crossed Neys’s face. “We have all lost someone to sickness.”

Neys lapsed into silence to cope with whatever memories she carried. Praeis took her daughters’ hands but didn’t say anything. She kept her gaze on the Home of Queens. The crescent-shaped mansion spread its arms to embrace all the t’Aori peninsula. Like the city, though, the Home had fallen onto hard times. Of the three domes, only the central one still shone bright turquoise. The other two had been burned and blackened in some battle and never cleaned. Only three or four of the dozens of windows had lights in them.

The sound of boots on cobbles cut across her thoughts. Silv arrived with the promised honor guard: four arms-sisters who looked vaguely harassed. Neys, Silv, and one other arms-sister formed up in front of them. Three other arms-sisters fell into step behind them.

Praeis remembered the palace when it was blazing with light. Ministers, Councilors, Noble Sisters, staffers, and petitioners streamed in and out of the rooms, stood in knots arguing and negotiating with one another, or brushed past single-mindedly on errands.

Now it was a tomb. The gathering rooms echoed as they marched through. Shadows obscured vague shapes that Praeis remembered as elaborate statues and silken furniture, making her wonder what was really back there now.