Tempted by Celestial Bodies

Chapter 4

chapter four

irosabsuul

She sat at the table, mincing up the food for the fingerlings, while I did my rounds. “What will the Refugee Support Services do to me?” she asked, without looking up.

That the idea of support brought her distress didn’t make sense to me, but then, I hadn’t paid much attention to stories of systems without the Responders, who would help people meet their basic needs and identify their Call. Maybe I should’ve. “As I told you, they’ll look after you. They won’t ask for anything except that you answer the Call, which you’ll want to do, anyway.”

She expelled air from her nose in a manner that spoke of amusement, but not joy. “Is this true?”

Her intelligence wasn’t any lower than mine, so I knew she understood my statement and guessed this was an expression of disbelief. “Is your planet unsafe?” I asked, remembering how she’d asked about wealth accumulators multiple times.

“The answer is dependant on your comparison data,” she said, but beneath the translated words I could hear unhappiness in her voice.

I didn’t like that she’d come from a cruel place, but it might make it easier for her to settle here. “You can go back, if you want,” I told her. “We will provide you everything you need for the journey and return you safely.”

“Why in the intercourse would I go back?” she asked, as I’d suspected she might. “My existence vacuum sealed.”

If she’d been kept in a vacuum, she shouldn’t have such damage to her feet. Another turn of phrase. I noted it. “I thought it might help you feel better if you knew that you were free.”

“Your statement is consistent, but reality may not match it,” she said, shaking her head aggressively. “How long will employment be required of me? What category of employment? What are the circumstances, and the time? Do you permit unions?”

My heart ached at the grim tone of her words. Her hands held tightly to the tool in her hand. “I’m sorry I don’t know the customs of your culture,” I said, hoping the translator would carry my meaning clearly. “I would like to comfort you, and reassure you that no harm will come and nothing will be asked of you, but I do not know how.”

She went still, looking up at me. Her hair hung in dark streamers around her face and framed her neck. My mouth watered, but I wasn’t so young and foolish as to glance at that soft, exposed flesh.

“That is the sweetest concept anyone has ever vocalised to me,” she said. And then she gave another laugh that was without joy. “I am unsure how to formulate a response.”

I nodded, going over to the net. “No response is needed.” It seemed as if telling her was enough. Given her disbelief that she would be safe, it made my heart sit a little lighter that she could, at least, believe that I wanted to help.

I moved to where some net was stored, pulling it out heavily. As jobs went, it was my least favourite, but one of the most important to reduce the larger Trefinns which would compete with the Heartfins for food at their breeding ground.

“Tell me the tale of your existence,” she said, stretching out her inefficient, but delightfully curved, spine.

I didn’t let my eyes dip down to the pink line of her neck, forcing my gaze back to the thick green cord I was untangling. The nets hadn’t been used in decades. Many lengths were still as sturdy as when they’d been painstakingly woven together. But parts of it had disintegrated with age, and a net was only as good as its weakest point.

“I was Called young,” I told her, surprised to find I was happy to discuss myself. Maybe I’d been alone too long. “My sister and I trained under the Dreyth’khar researcher who tended these waters before us. She works further out, in the depths. If you’re still here in a tenday, you’ll meet her.” I doubted she would be, but stranger things had happened. “I’ve been here since.”

She was frowning at me. I didn’t mind. The food she was preparing would keep for a long time at room temperature, and any help she gave me was gratefully received. I found one end of the net and sat down on the ground, tugging it into my lap.

“You remain alone?” she asked. “How many cycles of the sun have you lived?”

“Eight-and-thirty,” I told her. “You should be wary who you ask that question of. Inferring people are too infantile can be distressing for some travellers.” I glanced up, hoping she hadn’t taken offence.

“Regrets,” she said, her big, unusually brown eyes full of guilt. “My cycles of the sun are similar. Thirty and six. What other duties should I identify?”

I shook my head. “You will be fully trained by the Responders. If I try, I might teach you the wrong, or overly simple, information. Responding is not my Calling.”

She made a noise that didn’t have a direct translation but sounded like a worried noise. “What are you undertaking?”

I held up a segment of the net. “Repairing.”

She accepted this in silence, but had spun around on the seat so she sat twisted at a strange angle, one foot beneath her curved behind. Her anatomy was curiously designed, superficially similar to my own, but softer, more delicate. She’d be vulnerable to temperature fluctuations and would need specialty equipment if she was to stay, moving between sea, shore and the underwater setup I called Sanctuary. I could vividly remember how her body had felt against mine, but I didn’t have words to describe the way our bodies met, and how it felt both entirely strange and like the most normal sensation.

I shook myself. She’d be gone soon, and while the trip to and from the surface to the sanctuary might not be comfortable for her, it was only for a little longer.

“I have not viewed any other beings,” she said, and I gladly accepted the new topic. “Does anyone else attend this location?”

“Every tenday or so I will receive supplies,” I told her. “And my sister will visit when it is beneficial for us.” That wouldn’t happen until after the twomoon. I hoped we’d be able to bask at the tidepools and compare stories with joy and only a few worries. I could imagine it now, the cze’lekk skewers she’d bring and the flasks of fermented esterbyrry I’d been saving to share, and the slow descent of the sun over the waves.

In my mind, the-woman-known-as-Before was there too, smiling up at the sky as she lay across my lap, her strange, beautiful hands moving as she spoke with animation about her first Heartfin migration.

“What of your other family or intimate companions?” she asked me.

I shook my head, giving the heavy weight of the net a flick and continuing to feed it through my hands as I checked it carefully. “I thought I had found a lifepartner, but they were a periodpartner.” I couldn’t resist the desire to look up and see her expression and found her watching me closely. Energy tingled down my limbs. “They remained with me for a period of my life,” I explained, hoping the translators might receive an update soon. “We enriched each other’s experiences for a set time, rather than our entire lifespan.”

She blinked at me again. “That is the most surprisingly benevolent method of description about a previous intimate partner.”

I suspected her sceptical nature had developed, probably unconsciously, to protect her from her challenging surroundings. The thought made me ache. My eyes went to one of the injured Heartfins, only visible away from the plants in its tank because we weren’t nearby. I knew what the Heartfin had suffered, in the storm-whipped seas. I didn’t know what she’d suffered, and it surprised me that I wanted to.

As I worked, I considered what I’d learned of her, and whether it was worth pushing through the barrier of the universal translator to try to gather more information.

“Do you have a lifepartner?” I asked her. The thought had barely even condensed in my mind before it had slipped from my traitorous lips, and I felt heat climb up my suddenly aching neck. She’d said she had no one, but did that mean they had passed on? Was she grieving, and that was why she was so withdrawn?

“No,” she said. Just one word. The tone was firm, and the statement final. Her shoulders were hunched over, like she had digestive issues, and her movements were aggressive as she finished up with the patients’ food.

She must have had a period-partner who treated her poorly. The rush of anger that swept through me took me off guard but I used it to fuel my work on the net, sorting and searching faster. The rope ran through my hand, a little stiff now it was dry. A frayed part caught my attention, but it wasn’t in the section I was searching. If I was doing this, I may as well do it properly.

From her place by the bench, she let out a noise of relief and stretched her spine. The movement made the damp fabric stretch tight over the soft folds of her body and I felt all the suckers on my digits contract in response. The net tangled up against me, piles of it falling awkwardly. She glanced over at the noise and, humiliated, I tried to extract myself.

The leg she’d been sitting on unfurled from beneath her like the graceful leaves of a freynza, reaching out toward the moons at night. “Are you adequate?” she asked me.

Adequate to what? I couldn’t grasp all of her at once. There was so much softness that it would overflow my hold. I hadn’t really tried, before. Not to hold her against me, to swim together, tangled up and tender. I’d held her like an injured party, yes. Not like a potential-partner. But I could adequately cradle her, I was sure of it. Our anatomy would work. I knew it would.

“Dreamdiver?” she asked, and hearing the words on her tongue made me jolt. That was my name, as she heard it. “Are you adequate?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, and finally my suckers released and the tangled mess fell at my feet. I ruffled the fins on my legs, trying to settle. “To assist you?” She was crossing to me, an awkward hopping shuffle that made my protective instincts compete with the desire to watch her body jiggle appealingly. “You will injure your limb further if you continue to move like this. The medicine stops it from hurting, but does not knit together bone.”

She let out a quick noise that sounded frustrated and reached out, steadying herself against me. The digits on her hand were both strangely firm and simultaneously limited. “I’m moderate quality,” she told me, and I managed, somehow, not to object. “Are you?”

“Am I moderate quality?” She was so close I could see the strangely beautiful pinkish brown tone of her skin and the deeper brownish orange flecks in the blue in her eyes.

Translator, I reminded myself. “Is your pain manageable?” I asked her, the words struggling to free themselves from my aching throat.

A smile split her face and my suckers flexed again against nothing, helplessly. “My health is moderate quality. What occurred with the net?”

There were words in my head but I wasn’t getting them out. I just reached over, trying not to fumble and hoping I wasn’t visibly shaking, offering her the offending tangle.

She frowned, her brow creasing in a way that made her round cheeks sit lower against her facial structure. I wondered what that roundness would feel like beneath my suckers. I wondered what it might feel like…beneath my lips.

“You require repairing of this item?” she asked me. “Can I assist?”

I nodded, mute.

Her firm-but-limited fingers grasped the threads with more confidence than I’d expected. “Where does the weave reside?” she asked. I stood and, wordlessly, retrieved the rope that I’d brought to do the repairs. Her broken limb stretched out along the floor and her small, bony digits grasped the rope firmly. “I do this for recreational activities frequently,” she said, and the words were cheerful. Then she paused and looked up at me. “Do I have permission?”

There was no chance of a word escaping through my throat. She looked unnatural, sprawled on the ground like that. But her eyes were huge and her throat bare, her hair curling softly to provide a beautiful frame for it.

Her lips rolled inward and the bottom flesh was caught between sweet little teeth. She worried at the surface as if it was irritating her. I tore my eyes away and removed myself physically, my body throbbing.

I’d seen the scans of her body. I knew exactly how we could fit together. But she was injured, and in my care.

Behind me I heard her working steadily on the net, the slip and slide of the twisted fibres slipping against the rock. I stored the food she’d prepared and busied myself until I had myself in hand. It took far longer than it should’ve. Long enough that I’d begun to be concerned for her energy levels. Which was hypocritical of me, considering what I’d wanted to do to her earlier.

My sanctuary in order, I found she’d made surprisingly quick progress with the net. With a clearer head, I was able to enjoy the sight of her digits deftly dancing over the twisted threads. The places she’d repaired would’ve been imperceptible if not for the way the colour had leeched from the old net.

“That looks wonderful,” I said, pleasantly surprised.

She smiled up at me, and it felt like the first touch of the water on my feet in the morning. “As I communicated, I do this frequently for recreation. Not this. ” She flopped the net. “But similar, at home.”

I shook my head, hope blooming in my chest. I struggled to contain it. “Are you willing to return tomorrow to help?”

“Without question,” she agreed, and held up her hands to me. “Can you assist?”

Bracing myself, I wrapped my digits around her arms and helped lift her to her one working limb. “We’ll get some dinner,” I told her, my mind returning to the issue of the stew I’d prepared and its impact on her. It shouldn’t be strong enough to keep her awake, but I wasn’t sure. “I will ready you a different meal. It may take some time.” Tiredness dragged at me, but she kept a hand on me as she hopped along awkwardly, and I was grateful for the slower pace as we crossed the sanctuary.

“I don’t brain,” she said.

I glanced over, but she didn’t look confused, so I let it go and slipped into the water with some relief. The soft tug of the current said it’s time to rest and my cells accepted the message.

She sat on the edge and scooted forward, her stiff limbs, the broken and the whole, dipping into the water. “My hair is going to be injured by this liquid,” she said, but she didn’t sound sad, so I didn’t try to make sense of the words. My digits coiled around her arms, my suckers clinging to the softness of her flesh and my throat aching.

Her mouth parted as she drew in a breath. My head swam. Stop. I clenched my jaws as I hadn’t needed to in over a decade, and guided her into the deep.