The Galaxy Game (22 page)

‘Where did—?’

‘I got them for you. You owe me. Don’t worry, we’ll sort it out later.’

‘I haven’t eaten. I have to freshen up—’

‘You do that too often. It’s not like a bath, you know. You have to let it go for a few days, give the algae time to establish itself for full effect.’

Rafi gave Ntenman a look of tired disbelief but privately made a note to get more detailed information on the scour-and-steam process just in case it was no joke.

‘If you must eat before going on the Wall, eat this.’ Ntenman gave Rafi a coiled ribbon of some compressed organic matter which smelled sweet and salty and looked rich with fat. ‘But not too much. You don’t want to unsettle your stomach.’

There were only two Standard days left until the full light of sunrise, but Rafi found himself almost irrationally resentful at the combination of natural darkness and artificial light. It galled him even more to know that when the long day finally began he would likely spend two Standard days outside rejoicing in the light, three Standard days acting as normal and the rest indoors as much as possible, complaining about the world being too bright. When he told Ntenman as much just before they took the fall down the emergency chute, Ntenman let out a great hoot of laughter that echoed eerily up the hard walls of the empty shaft, and Rafi could not help laughing in turn.

‘Give it a couple of months,’ Ntenman told him after they bounced out of the bodycatcher and strolled onto the green. ‘By the time you get back to Cygnus Beta you’ll be complaining about the speed of the sun and the tyranny of the twenty-four-hour clock.’

To Rafi’s newly cynical eyes, the festival on the green had a slightly jaded atmosphere. People moved with less energy and cheerfulness than the previous day, as if they too had done all they could to endure the long night and were more than ready for sunrise. Or perhaps it was simply the character of the new shift and the truly festive were now in their work mode, tucked away in offices below-ground or in the tower, waiting for the hours to turn so they could go and reclaim the green from their sluggish colleagues and kin.

When they got to the Wall, there were a few players and wouldbe players milling about in front of the screen. Rafi was pleased to see some bleary eyes and wide yawns in spite of the bright light that overhung the area, brighter than the last time when the players were lit up and on show.

He raised his hand in a non-committal greeting and tried not to let the awkwardness he was feeling show on the surface. Everyone there looked as if they were meant to be there. There were thick-bodied, heavyset boys who would be perfect as pivots or tippers; extra-tall, lanky types who could be ladders, slingers or hookers; small, wiry boys as quick-moving snakes; and one truly massive individual who could only be the team anchor. And then there was Rafi, a common if there ever was one – too short to be a ladder, too tall to be a snake, too skinny to tip, pivot or anchor and too weak to sling. Maybe, if someone else held him securely, he could hook, but he could barely run all the levels without tripping, and he still lost all sense of up and down when the Wall began to tip. He imagined that people were looking at him curiously, perhaps wondering if he was there to watch.

‘Rafidelarua.’

Rafi spun around instantly, recognising the voice behind the screen, the voice in the dark that commanded with timbre and tone rather than volume. Now he had the chance to see the face of the person who had chosen to remain in the shadows.

‘I am Baranngaithe.’ He was a small one, probably a retired snake, and his voice was all out of proportion to his body, but when he gazed up at Rafi with an expression that was as assured as his voice, Rafi bowed his head, raised his greeting hand and mumbled something he had never tried before – the traditional Wallrunning phrase from junior to elder. ‘I am your child, Revered Baranngaithe.’

Baranngaithe chuckled. ‘Not yet, but soon. In the first light of next sunrise we shall bind you to our blood, but till then you may still run with us. Do you know who I am?’

Rafi did not. He was still unable to do that double-tasking most Punarthai did, listening to their channel and having a conversation simultaneously. ‘You were Ntenman’s coach?’

‘Yes. I am the coach for four teams of Academe Surinastraya and a consultant coach at other Academes. I am also a nexus. You can train with my team, learn to run the Wall and carry yourself creditably, but as for the rest, there are few things worse than one nexus teaching another. When two come together, one must be the centre and the other the satellite. This can only be avoided by giving each their own sphere, and that is what I shall do. You will learn from a colleague of mine at Academe Maenevastraya. She is Syanrimwenil, and she has been involved in the logistics arm of the Galactic League for some time.’

‘But . . . she is not a nexus?’ Rafi spoke calmly but he felt an inner pang of excitement. The name was familiar. He was certain he had seen it on his aunt’s list when he scanned it for Hanekis and Mwenils after his talk with Lian.

‘She is . . . inactive. Don’t worry. She understands the nexus mentality and philosophy better than anyone.’

‘This is . . . I owe you much credit, Revered Baranngaithe. How may I serve you and pay my debt?’

Baranngaithe smiled. ‘Work hard. Fulfil your potential. We will talk of service after you have been trained.’

*

Rafi learned two things during training. First, he had not yet fully adjusted to the Punartam atmosphere; second, a weaker planetary gravity made no difference to the gravity settings on a Wall. Baranngaithe liked to run high gravity during training runs. Rafi understood the warning about losing little fingers – the dreaded shear was a real danger during a fast tip and higher gravity speeded up both tips and falls. And yet, because the focus was on form and not scoring, it was in some ways easier than running with the Lyceum team – not physically easier, not at all, but more structured, more predictable and thus easier for the mind to control the body. He noticed some older women and a few men watching them train with a keenness that went beyond mere spectating, and Ntenman explained to him that they were likely game strategists, come to see whether a Wallrunner with excellent form could be enticed away to a commercial team, even for a short stint.

Rafi doubted he could interest them, especially after he fell into the bodycatcher and vomited up the small breakfast Ntenman had allowed him.

He returned to quarters, cleaned up and collapsed in bed for a nap, and naturally woke up ravenous. He was scheduled to have a meal with Ixiaral at Academe Maenevastraya, but first he was going to use the directions Baranngaithe had sent to his channel, directions that would lead him to the retired nexus. He told Ntenman where he was going, but offhandedly and last-minute so that he could override Ntenman’s protests that he needed to come along and make sure Rafi did not get lost.

‘At least take the below-ground route,’ Ntenman advised. ‘There’s too much nonsense going on during the long night outside of the Academe walls.’

Rafi did not query further. There could never be enough ‘recycled sunlight’ to cover the entire Metropolis, and after almost nine Standard days of night he was feeling spooked at the mere idea of going beyond the safe, well-lit places. He followed his directions carefully and arrived at the work section of Academe Maenevastraya, a place that looked nothing like the government offices and university lecture halls of Cygnus Beta. It looked slightly like a Zen garden, but greener and twisty with soundproof nooks, paths for walking and thinking, and large tables at intervals for group meetings. People listened to their audioplugs or spoke messages destined for their colleagues’ channels. Rafi wondered for a moment why there was no such thing as a slate or handheld to be found, but then he realised that even the research was being dictated, the exquisite verbal control of the Punarthai ensuring that any transcription would be as clean and coherent as anything typed by a Cygnian. That made him think of Dr Daniyel and how she was doing, and whether she still needed to lean on a comm and handheld to get her work done.

He was feeling thoroughly homesick by the time he found the niche where Revered Syanrimwenil was waiting, an emotion that would prove to be extremely unhelpful as their conversation unfolded.

She was elderly; her dark hair was greying throughout, tied back but shorter than the usual masculine style. Her body was soft in a way that told of years spent sitting in quiet niches rather than walking and thinking, and yet there was something to her that reminded him more of Ntenman’s mercurial energy than Ixiaral’s gravitas. She barely glanced at him as she waved him to sit on a mat opposite her. He puzzled at her distraction for a moment, then realised she was listening to her audioplug channel. It appeared to contain more information on him than was comfortable.

‘Hmm. Your father. A man who wants a peaceful life, a loving family. No fretful babies or troublesome toddlers allowed. But I wonder what it was like when he started to feel you push back. Did you fight? Was it a tug of war, and if so, was it your mother or your sister who served as the rope? Or perhaps you crashed antlers together until one day you won?’

Rafi was speechless. He sat down and tried to steady the sudden shaking in his hands, placing his palms flat on the floor so that he would not hit an old woman.

‘You protected your sister but you didn’t know how to protect yourself,’ Syanrimwenil continued ruthlessly, still not looking at him. ‘And now you’ve left your sister and your mother. It must have become tiring, looking out for them constantly.’

Rafi blinked and inhaled sharply, now both angry and upset.

‘But you were their nexus. There were genuine bonds between you, however snarled and tainted they were. Strange that your therapists did not realise that. Instead of treating your sister and your mother solely for your father’s abuse, they should also have been weaning them from dependency on you—’

‘Stop it!’ Rafi shouted.

The background buzz in the sector dipped for a moment as heads turned and people stared at his breach of etiquette, but Syanrimwenil waved a hand gently to dismiss their concern.

‘I am done,’ she said, with no regret in her voice. ‘Now, as I have looked at your soul stripped bare, it is only fair that I offer a little of myself in turn. You did not ask, not by eyes or voice or attitude, and that makes you one of the most courteous Terrans I have met. But yes, I am a woman who was once a boy. Furthermore, I am that special oddity, a boy who was never a Wallrunning nexus but became a corporate nexus straight away. Naturally the two facts are related. Did you know that men were once barred from acting as corporate nexus?’

Rafi shook his head and said nothing, recognising the dig at his ‘courtesy’ but also aware that she would tell him everything more quickly if he refrained from interrupting with questions. He simply accessed his audioplug channel to get clarification on those terms and phrases he did not understand.

‘They were, and so I was forced to disguise myself to achieve my goal. You would think that impossible in this world, in this era, but my mother abetted me. I was Mwenilsyanri then, just another unclaimed brat running the Academe Walls and taking whatever work I could find below-ground for credit. She saw my potential, and she knew that my name would no longer hinder me if they took me to be a woman, so she claimed me and named me her daughter. I suppose it helped that she only produced sons after me, and she was very Ntshune – an unregistered daughter was more valuable than a legitimate son.

‘I didn’t need her help for very long. I am a strong nexus, and the logistics team I assembled and led became legendary in the Galactic League.’

Rafi hesitated, not wanting to lose that early compliment on his courteousness, but he was still Cygnian and he had to ask. ‘Did you mind, being a woman for so long?’

The corner of Syanri’s mouth quirked briefly downward, then she gave a slight grimace that was not so much disappointed as resigned. ‘I am not quite like your Lian, who cares nothing at all for such things. Perhaps I minded a little. But I tell you, Rafi, for any true nexus, there is nothing more important than the chance to be what they are, whatever the personal cost. I did not do this for my own comfort, or to embarrass and outsmart the matriarchs. I did this because I couldn’t imagine not being a nexus and there seemed no other way to achieve my desire.

‘I moved on and up through the hierarchy, and by the time they knew I had been born a boy I held too much influence and power, so they let me keep my place for a while. A girl who becomes a man is on an accepted path – the most he can do is run the Walls. But a boy who becomes a woman shows arrogant folly, especially when she dares aspire to run the Game. There is the difference. The matriarchs may have admired my talent and ambition, but they still felt I had overleapt my natural place in society. The ousting was slow but it was relentless, and now I cling to the fringes by the grace of the few friends who have not forgotten me and who have forgiven me for my necessary deception.’

She spread her hands wide and smiled with a tinge of bitterness. ‘And that is how I came to be a semi-retired corporate nexus. Be careful, Rafidelarua. My friends are indeed few. There is no fury like that of an abandoned network. You may be blameless, powerless, of pure intent, but their betrayal will not be rational.’

‘Then why be a nexus at all?’ Rafi retorted.

She looked at him finally. ‘Wrong question. You cannot help being a nexus. You
can
learn not to abandon your networks. You can learn to leave them strong and self-sufficient.’

‘Very well,’ Rafi said, his words short with irritation. ‘Teach me that, Revered Syanrimwenil.’

She laughed. ‘Very good! Very good! But you must call me Syanri. You are neither my student nor a test subject.’

Rafi felt it then. Perhaps she had been holding herself back previously, but now he could sense a light vibration, a tremor that buzzed along his nerves and raised the hair on his arms. He glanced around, almost expecting to see some kind of sway or shudder in the furniture and plants near them, but the physical world remained undisturbed. She watched him, her slight smile amused at his reaction and her half-lidded eyes assessing him.