Playing God (42 page)

“They say what, Sister?” demanded Neys.

“They are calling for the Task-Mother. They say they have a friend of hers aboard. A … Lynn Nussba …”

Lynn?
Praeis bolted from the room. She ran onto the deck, barely aware that Theia followed on her heels. Warm rain pelted her face and shoulders. Her first lid closed against it automatically, and her nose and ears pinched down, but she didn't slow her pace.

“Where!” she shouted over the crash of waves, guns, and rain to a second-sister whose name she couldn't remember.

“Aft quarter, Mother!” bawled the second.

Theia caught Praeis's arm. Leaning on each other to keep balance against the pitch of the ship and the rain-drenched deck, they dashed toward the stern. A cluster of arms-sisters stood staring out at something, pointing and talking. Praeis followed their gaze out to the grey, choppy waves. Out there, a middle-sized fishing boat bobbed up and down on the rough sea. She could see white figures with guns, shooting into the water at the heads and ears of Getesaph soldiers protruding here and there from the waves.

One arms-sister clutched a pair of binoculars. Praeis lifted them out of her hand and focused them on the boat and the white figures. Three Humans, she saw as the lenses brought them closer. Two
men
and one
woman.
The
woman
was Lynn Nussbaumer.

“Covering fire!” Praeis barked. “Now! Get a team and a rescue boat in the water! Get me the PA speaker!”

An arms-sister appeared with the PA speaker box in her hand and an incredible length of cable trailing behind her. Praeis took the PA and looked out to the boat in time to see a contingent of six arms-sisters in light armor dive headfirst into the water. A Getesaph who'd ducked her head up saw them, too. She made it back under the waves. The bullet meant for her hit nothing but foam.

So much for surprise.

“Lynn! Lynn!” called Praeis. The PA bellowed her words out to the world. “It's Praeis! We're sending help,” she said in English. “Hang on! We'll get to you!”

One of the small white figures waved its arm. A geyser shot up beside the little boat. The craft dropped into a trough in the waves and listed sharply to port. Two of the Humans disappeared, leaving one on deck shooting into the ocean at things Praeis couldn't see.

It didn't take much guessing to work out what had just happened. A bomb had gone off close enough to hull the boat, and they were sinking into the water full of Getesaph soldiers.

The roar of a motor cut the sound of waves and bullets. A narrow troop carrier shot out from the side of the ship. Praeis brought up the binocs again. Neys sat in the bow with six arms-sisters behind her, all armed, ready to board or to dive. She trained the binocs on the Human boat.

Lynn and the
man
reemerged from the hold. The boat settled lower in the water. A Getesaph reached up to the rail and was jerked backward. Unseen hands dragged her back under the water. The troop carrier roared up to the boat's side. Lynn and the
men
let the arms-sisters help them over the side. Lynn staggered, almost fell, and slumped into a
man's
arms.

Praeis twisted her head around. There were still three arms-sisters beside her. “You!” she said to the closest. “Find out if we've got a doctor aboard who knows anything about Humans and get her down to meet that boat. Tell them to get an iso-ward ready!” Praeis wrapped an arm around Theia. “We'll go down.”

We have to,
she thought, as they headed down the narrow stairs into the cavernous hold.
Because we're both eating our hearts out hoping Lynn will know where Resaime is.

This is why we do not bring our daughters into combat. Too much distraction. Too hard to think of anything else. Too much your whole world narrowed down to their pain, their needs, their scent, their skin under your hand so smooth and strong and …
She shook her head.
Ancestors Mine, did I forget my doses this morning?

The launch door opened, and the troop carrier was hoisted inside with a wave of rain and seawater. A med team, looking uncomfortable and trying to hide it, stood nearby with a body board, respirator, and medical bags. Praeis doubted that any of them had ever seen a Human up close, let alone treated one.

Lynn and the two
men
climbed out of the carrier, along with the troops.

“Lynn!” Praeis stepped forward, stopped, and looked again. Lynn had no clean-suit on. She was wrapped in a sodden blanket. Half her face was swaddled in bandages and her skin was grey with cold and stress. She looked at Praeis like she'd seen the end of the world.

“Ancestors Mine.” Praeis turned to the medical team. “Take her to the iso-ward. Find fresh clothes and a heater blanket.”

“Yes, Mother,” said the second-sister. “Come with us.” She reached out a hand but let it fall back. The other two responded a little better. They held out the body board and Lynn lay down on it. They threw the restraints across her and carried her gingerly up the stairs.

Theia looked up at her anxiously. Praeis ruffled her daughter's ears and turned to the
men.
They were both clean-suited, but the taller of the two hadn't shaved in days. Hair coated his scalp and face like fresh-sprouted moss.

“Welcome aboard,” she said, in English. “Are you good? Do you need to rest?”

“I could sure use a sit-down and something to eat,” said the cleaner of the two. “That was a whole long list of things I never want to do again.”

“We can manage both. We'll put in a call to Bioverse to come get you.”
Never mind we're in the middle of a war. It's our war, not yours. We'll get you out of here if Theia and I have to take you ourselves.

“Are you Praeis Shin t'Theria?” blurted out the unshaven
man.

“I am Praeis Shin. This is my daughter Theiareth Shin t'Theria.”

The
man
stared at Theia, a little too wild-eyed. Theia laid her hand over her mother's.

“I'm Schol— I'm Arron Hagopian. I'm a friend of Lynn's.”

“She's said your name as a friend.” Praeis dipped her ears to him. “I hope we can meet again when the world is calmer.” Theia tugged at her hand like a child. Praeis touched her shoulder. Her own heart was straining, but what news there was would come soon enough.

“I … your …” He stammered.

Here it is.
Ignoring the chill that flowed through her, Praeis flicked an ear toward Neys, and the other toward the unnamed
man.

Neys caught the signal and stepped briskly up to the
man.
“If you'll come with me, please.”

The
man
nodded He glanced back at Arron, and seemed about to say something, but he just shook his head and followed Neys up the stairs.

“You have news for us?” said Praeis quietly to Arron. Theia pressed against her side.

Arron rubbed his forearms, a gesture most Humans who spent long amounts of time in clean-suits developed.
Strange people,
thought Praeis idly.
They won't touch each other, but they are constantly touching themselves.

Still rubbing his forearms, Arron started to talk. He talked about discovering the disparity in the Getesaph passenger rosters, about waking up in a cell, about Lynn being thrown in with him, and then Resaime, and no one else. He talked about their escape so they could save Res from their poison, about meeting
soldiers
who were friends of his, how they got a ride to Mrant Chavat, how the attack came, how the bomb fell, how the ’Esaph helped him dig until he was able to go down and rescue Lynn, and no one else.

Her sister. Her daughter. Another sister. Another daughter. Dead. Dead. All of them, dead, with her looking on and living on and trying and trying and trying …

“You killed her.”

It took Praeis a moment to reconcile the words with the voice.

“We killed her.” Theia sank to her knees on the deck.

“No, Theia,” Praeis dropped down beside her daughter.
My only daughter. My last daughter.
“You did nothing. Nothing.” She reached out to encircle Theia with what little warmth she had to offer.

“Don't touch me.” Theia got to her feet and walked away.

After that, Praeis lost track of time. People told her things, but it was as if they spoke to her through a wall of ice. Eventually, she moved, was moved, to an administrative cabin. She sat on a bench and stared at the wall. Neys and Silv came and went, but she couldn't move to touch them. She was distant, separate, isolated. Was this the Change? No. The Change was being immersed in the here and now. This was something else. This was her own personal madness caught up with her. It had enabled her to function alone, now it kept her from reaching out.

Good, good. Let me stay in here. Theia is right. I killed them.

The door opened. Neys and Silv came in and sat, one on either side of her.

“Mother, this cannot continue,” said one. She didn't know who. Her head did not want to turn.

“Mother, we need you back with us. We won the attack, but there is much more to do,” said the other.

Arms wrapped around her shoulders. She was leaned against a chest. Her muscles did not relax. She did not weep or rage. She did not care whether these two went or stayed, and she did not want to.

After a while, they left, and she was alone again. Alone was better. Alone was right and proper and natural for her. She had always been alone, really. Always been here in this closed-in place without daughters or sisters. Always.

The door opened again and somebody small and white and glistening came in. She was Lynn, Praeis realized after a moment. She did not sit down. She stood in Praeis's field of vision and folded her hands behind her back, wincing slightly as she did.

“I've been talking to Theia,” she said, speaking English, which had always been easier for her. “She's having a rough time. Half your people are shunning her for what she said. Calling it blasphemous. Half of them are not so sure. She's really confused.” Lynn paused. “She's angry and frightened and lonely. She didn't mean it.”

No, she meant it.

“She's an adolescent. They say things they don't mean.”

Human children do that.

Lynn rocked forward on her toes and looked down at the deck. “Your people are good. One of them got a line through to the peninsula, and somebody there got a hook up to the station. Keale's sending somebody out to get us.”

Why are you here? What do you want? If anybody can recognize somebody who should be alone, it should be a Human.

“Res held up great during the whole thing. You should have seen her, Praeis. She did her Great Family proud. The first we knew about her was when they threw her in a cell with me and Arron. Our clean-suits were already days old, but Resaime wasn't frightened.” She went on and on, describing every detail: how Resaime looked, how she acted, how brave she was. Slowly, Praeis felt herself draw closer. The ice thinned, just a little. Painfully, her ears turned themselves forward to hear how Res had acted courageously under fire. How she had not complained once as they fled through the woods. How she had carried herself during the long, tense ride through the tunnels. Brave, strong daughter Resaime. Your daughter. My daughter. My daughters.

“Praeis? Are you with me? Are you hearing this? Because I want to tell you something.” Lynn squatted down until her eyes were level with Praeis's. “I blamed you, too. When I was there, in the dark, and I was the only one to hold your daughter's hand. I could feel her skin twitching and blistering and the roof creaked, and groaned and gave and she didn't even have time to scream. I knew it was you out here. I knew whose orders had done it. I knew whose fault—”

“NO!” howled Praeis.

She lunged forward to grab Lynn, but Lynn dodged sideways, and Praeis fell onto the deck. She pounded the floor with her fists, screaming wordlessly.

No! No! No!

“Mother?”

Warm, familiar hands grabbed her and pulled her back. Other hands held on to hers. Praeis kept screaming until her throat was raw and all she could do was cough and choke out her rage and sorrow. Eventually, the foul noise stopped pouring out of her. She was able to relax into the arms that held her, and to identify them as Theia's.

She blinked her eyes open and looked into her daughter's tear-streaked face.

“Ancestors Mine.” She buried her face against her daughter's shoulder and held her close, and they both wept for their hard, bitter loss.

Lynn closed the cabin door and walked out onto the deck, favoring her bad knee and worse ankle. The t'Therian caretakers had bandaged them up tightly, but they hadn't been able to give her anything for the pain.

The guns had silenced, and the most prevalent noise was the smack of waves against the hull. A light, misting rain fell, covering her helmet and gloves with milky pearls. She shrugged further into the borrowed fleece coat that had been cinched up with somebody's belt so it didn't drag the deck. Despite the coat, the wind found all her aches, bandaged or unbandaged, and sharpened them.

Neys and Silv stood at the rail. Lynn walked stiffly over to them.

“Praeis will be good,” she said huskily.

“We saw Theia go in,” Silv touched her arm. “Thank you. We could not have done that.”

Lynn looked across the white-tipped waves. “Yeah, well,” she said in English. Then she switched back to t'Therian. “We all needed to find out if Theia would go back to her. How's the fight going?”

Neys waved her ears. “It is war. The ’Esaph are killing our sisters out there. We have been able to dig in on five of the islands and hold our own. We wait for reports. We got one of their airports, and they've stopped their flyovers for the moment. Soon their fleet will be here, and it will be our turn to remind them whose children we are.” She bared her teeth to the wind. “The Great Families who dispute our rights can declare themselves our enemies and we will take care of them in good time.”

Lynn felt herself go very still. “What do the other families say about this … attack?”

Neys said nothing. A shiver ran up Lynn's spine.
Oh no, no, not a real war. Not an all-out war. Bioverse would never stick around. They'd cut their losses. They'll scrap the whole thing, leave the Dedelphi here to die.
Her heartbeat doubled, and doubled again.