Second Don: Ardulum, Book 2 Page 31

  She shook her head. “Never. Yorden kept saying we should go, but none of our runs ever took us past Mars. Earth is a little backwater. Not like Neek, but close.”

  Nicholas nodded and looked back up. “So, we only have one moon. One sun too, but that is pretty normal, and only one wormhole connection. Our people never really unified, like on a lot of other worlds, so we’re still pretty culturally diverse, too. Probably have a couple of thousand gods, if not more. Some are more popular than others, but trends in that change over time, too.”

  “I really don’t want to talk about this, Nick,” Atalant said, tension creeping into her voice. “It has been a long day.”

  “Then why are you out here with me, sitting on a wood slab, instead of talking to Emn?” Nicholas turned onto his right hip and regarded Atalant. “I know things got out of control. But this is a big deal, Atalant.”

  “Seems like everything we do these days is a big deal,” she muttered.

  “No,” he countered. “Rescuing and defending a lost child was the right thing to do. Trying to even the odds in the Crippling War was a reaction to circumstances. This—” He pointed to her calf. “—is different. This isn’t us mucking about in events beyond our control, or even us trying to alter someone’s fate. This is something cosmic, maybe mythical. I don’t know the right word. You’re the leader of a planet that is worshipped by other planets, including your own. That’s big.”

  “Yeah,” she muttered in response. “I know.” Atalant kicked her heel at a pile of leaves and sent them skittering into the wind as she debated her next words. “My telepathy is back, but I still get all this feedback from the andal. All the time. It’s sort of like the whole planet is breathing in my head, if that doesn’t sound too nuts.”

  Nicholas bumped his shoulder into hers and grinned. “Nope. Sounds just nuts enough for this crew.”

  Atalant shifted and leaned against the youth. “Arik’s in it too. The andal wants him—for a decent reason, I suppose—except he’s too young to flare into his Aggression Talent or some nonsense like that, so he’s got training marks instead. Old Corccinth was trying to explain it to me on the walk, but eventually, I stopped listening.” She picked up one of the leaves and traced its veins with her thumb, soothed by the topography. “There has to be a third, logically, since the Eld are a triarchy, but who knows when zie will flare or, if zie has, where zie is hiding out. I’ve got a populace to soothe, a capital to rebuild, and a bunch of families to apologize to for the death of their loved ones. I don’t have time to go looking for another eld.”

  Atalant took a deep breath and blew as she exhaled, making a loose whistling sound with her lips. “Oh, and the andal wants to reproduce. Did I mention that? I assume that means there are some suitable planets in this system, and tomorrow I have to go down to meet the inhabitants, convince them to plant andal monocultures, and, according to Ardulum, interbreed with their populace.”

  “Or you could, you know, fuck history,” Nicholas offered. “You’re in charge now, more or less.”

  “Technically, I think the andal is in charge,” Atalant returned.

  “But it listens to you, doesn’t it? Can’t you make suggestions? Have deep, philosophical conversations about invasive species and the long-term health effects of andal plantations?”

  Atalant sighed. “Probably. I’m taking the night off though.” She caught herself as Nicholas moved away, taking her support along with him. He stood, brushing the dust from his pants. “Hey!” she called out, indignant. “I was comfortable.”

  “Our time is up,” he quipped, moving back inside. “I’ll bill you for the whole hour. Besides, there is someone here to see you.”

  As Nicholas moved back through the doorway, a taller figure took his place. Her long hair was tied back, and she was wearing fresh clothes similar to the ones the inn owners had given Atalant.

  “Hey,” Atalant said gently as Emn took Nicholas’s spot on the wood step.

  “Hey,” Emn returned, looking at anything but Atalant. They’d been keeping their distance, both mentally and physically, since the move. Atalant didn’t want to pry, so instead, she studied Emn, visually tracing the black patterns on her skin in the moonlight. Flares. She’d have to do something about them, too, pretty soon—and that didn’t even include “unfracturing” the Ardulans the flares hadn’t managed to kill, if there were any. She wanted to curse, but realized that most of the Neek and Terran curses she knew involved a form of the word “god.” She’d have to come up with some more colorful language.

  “Lot of things to come to terms with,” Atalant said, hoping she wouldn’t scare Emn off. It wasn’t fair that Atalant had managed to work through all her baggage just in time to have the tables turned. The andal probably thought it was funny—like her life was some big cosmic joke.

  “Yeah,” Emn returned, her voice muffled in her legs.

  When Emn didn’t continue, Atalant decided to let that conversation die. She’d have to have a discussion, a long one, with the underground flares soon. Now, however, wasn’t the time. Instead, Atalant let the silence stretch, filling her mind with the sounds of night—the strange insect chirps and leaf rustling that reminded her so much of her own homeworld.

  When Emn turned her face to Atalant, the pilot tried again to engage her. “Want to see them?”

  “See what?”

  “The markings.”

  “Oh.” Emn sat up, curiosity evident on her face. Atalant grinned and hoisted the right side of her shirt, exposing the hexagons. She let Emn trace each with a soft fingertip before letting the shirt down and showing her calf. Atalant hadn’t realized how intimate the touch could be. Maybe her markings were more sensitive because they were new. Maybe they were more sensitive because this was Emn. Either way, she wanted Emn’s hand to stay there, on her skin, instead of pulling back. Maybe if they went inside…

  Whoa. No. Now she was the one that was pushing. And blushing. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. She decided to diffuse the situation. That was what she did best, wasn’t it? Avoidance? “You didn’t tell me they hurt when they come in,” she joked. “They itch, too.”

  Emn pulled her hand back, and her face fell. “I guess I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry.”

  They were back here again. Damn it. Atalant sighed silently and again tried to change the subject. “How are you feeling?”

  “I don’t think there are Common words for it,” Emn responded as she rested her head back on her legs.

  That reminded Atalant—she had to start learning the native Ardulan language as well, and probably the dominant language of this new system. She could possibly squeeze that in between tomorrow and the end of her sanity, which was a quickly narrowing time frame.

  “Yeah,” Atalant agreed. She reached over and put a hand on Emn’s shoulder. They were still at the shoulder stage, right? That wasn’t intruding, surely. She’d need to do something more, though, to put them back on track. Not something big, just…something familiar. “I get that. We’ll talk—you, me, Corccinth, and Arik. But not tonight.” She moved her hand to Emn’s head and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Come sit with me?”

  Without looking up, Emn scooted herself over to Atalant until their hips touched. With a sigh, she turned her head and looked up at Atalant. “You’re my Eld,” she said in a soft tone.

  “I’m your friend, too,” Atalant responded. “Unless things have changed.” It didn’t come out as a question, although she realized it probably should have been.

  In a surprising move, Emn sat up and wrapped an arm around Atalant’s shoulder, pulling her in. The gesture was relaxing, and Atalant gratefully rested her head. The multitude of tasks ahead slipped from her mind, drowning in Emn’s heartbeat and the chirping of nighttime insects. The andal rested, for now, in the corners of Atalant’s mind—stacked neatly in its crystal latticework and content with its present form. Here, now, in Emn’s arms, Atalant almost felt the same. Friends. It wasn’t what Atalant
wanted—it wasn’t what either of them wanted—but it was a good place to start.

  They sat together in silence. Atalant watched the slow progression of the moons, every so often finding her eyelids too heavy to keep open. Her telepathy was back to rights, but her link with Emn was different now. Sharper. Her link with everything was sharper, which meant the needs of the flares, her friends, the populace, and the andal all rang in her head. Why did there have to be so much to do? Maybe if she asked Emn really nicely, she could convince her that they should all fly somewhere remote…

  WISPS OF GOLD and orange were just starting to color the horizon when Atalant next opened her eyes. Her body had slouched in sleep, and her head now rested in Emn’s lap. The morning was chilly, and despite the warmth coming from Emn’s arm and the thickness of her shirt, Atalant shivered. Her hip was sore from digging into the wooden platform beneath her, but she felt rested, if only a little.

  “Morning?” she asked as she sat up. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, keeping her body close to Emn for warmth.

  “I think so,” Emn responded. She pointed up at where Atalant could see faint gray streaks in the auburn sky. “Flybys are happening. I’ve seen at least four different shapes of craft, already.”

  Atalant groaned and put her head on Emn’s shoulder. The fabric smelled of andal sap and the scented water the young woman used to wash her hair. It took her a moment to realize that other smells were starting to waft to her as well—andal cooking, along with the blissful aroma of frying meat. That likely meant Nicholas was up.

  “Nicholas and I have been watching them for the last two hours.” Emn ran her hand up and down Atalant’s arm, and the pilot smiled, grateful for the warmth. “He’s got a communicator hooked up to the Ardulan grid. You can broadcast to the planet whenever you’re up to it.”

  “Anyone tried to contact the ships, by chance?” Atalant asked, refusing to move her head. “Maybe apologize for screwing up gravitational forces or whatever else Ardulum managed to do when it got here?” The waft of meat was growing stronger, overtaking the andal and making her stomach rumble.

  Emn’s hand stilled. “No, not yet. That’s your call to make, not ours.”

  That made Atalant scowl. The rest of them were just as capable of making decisions today as they were yesterday, godhood or not. In fact, screw yesterday and everything that had led up to it. She was going to make some decisions, right now, that she probably should have made a long time ago. Atalant raised her head and caught Emn’s eyes, bringing a cold hand to the young woman’s cheek before she could turn away. “I’m not interested in a solo gig. I’m doing this with you, or not at all. And I want…” She paused, fumbling for the words as Emn’s eyebrows rose. “Friendship is great, but I’d like something more. With you.”

  Emn’s face broke into a smile, the tension smoothing from her forehead. Atalant couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face in response. Emn took Atalant’s hand from her cheek and stood, pulling Atalant with her. “Breakfast is ready—yours and mine. Best to address the planet on a full stomach.”

  “Is that a yes, then?”

  Emn paused and turned back, meeting Atalant’s eyes. There was humor playing at the corners of her mouth, but Atalant caught the hesitation as well. “What is it you’re asking for, Eld?” she whispered.

  Exasperated, Atalant dropped Emn’s hand and pointed to the stars. “I’m asking for your help! Arik is too young for flaring and has to go through some weird training with the andal, and I have no clue who the third eld is. I refuse to do this alone!” Her tone softened. “I need your guidance. I need your power, in as much as you can handle safely. Help me guide these people and this ridiculous planet, Emn. Please.”

  Emn stared, unblinking. That question—the one Atalant had been avoiding, that hung unspoken between them, was back. Atalant looked at the ground. She dug her big toe into the soft springwood of the flooring and thought about the andal groves her brother had shown her as a child. She thought about her uncle, how proud he’d been when she’d applied to join the Heaven Guard. She thought about her family, the loss of her mother, and what it would be like to walk into her childhood home in the robes of an eld.

  She thought about the woman in front of her, who had been so patient, and who was waiting, now, for words Atalant owed her a dozen times over.

  Atalant raised her head, looking into green eyes, nervous and hopeful. “I’m ready to stop running.”

  Emn’s arms were around her then, the younger woman’s cheek against hers, a heartbeat—hers? Emn’s?—loud in her ears. “From everything?” Emn asked cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Atalant laughed then—happily, loudly—a sound she couldn’t remember having made in a long time. She pulled the tie from Emn’s hair, ran a hand through the thick strands, and then pushed up ever so lightly on her toes so she could meet Emn’s lips. The kiss started as a light brush, but Emn was pulling Atalant in a moment later. Atalant hadn’t known what to expect—her time on the Pledge hadn’t often come with enough shore leave to explore something as intimate as kissing, but Emn had no problem taking the lead. She pressed their bodies tightly together, their breasts aligning almost perfectly thanks to their near identical heights. Atalant’s tongue gained entrance and gave ground as Emn pushed back, exploring territory no longer restricted. Then, Emn’s lips were on her cheek, and then her jawline, before they met her own once again. The silly remainder of Atalant’s hesitation sparked into desire. Why had she waited so long for this? Why had she ever thought this would be anything less than perfect?

  They stayed there, kissing and laughing and holding one another, until the sunlight on Atalant’s neck became too hot and she had to step away, moving into the shade of the main room. Emn followed, their hands still gripped together. Inside, a long wood table was set up, covered with a dark tablecloth of woven andal bark. Nicholas was already seated with his elbows on the table and a smug grin on his face. Atalant knew her face had to be crimson, but fuck it all, she didn’t care. She was an eld, wasn’t she? She’d kiss whomever she damn well pleased.

  Two pots of steaming andal sat in the middle of the table, surrounded by small platters of bilaris fruit and thin strips of crisp meat. The inn owners stood just behind the chair at the head of the table—two elderly men in pressed cotton suits. The taller man pulled a thick wood chair out for Atalant, bowing his head as he did so.

  “Take it.” Arik approached from her right. His skin wasn’t as sickly today, although the dark circles under his eyes told Atalant plenty about his night. “Emn will be welcome next to you. I’ll take the other end, if it is all right.”

  Nicholas held up a small disc communicator and waved it in the air. “When you’re ready, it’s all yours. Just hit the main button and you can talk to the whole planet.” His grin got wider. “Some of us were working this morning.”

  Emn laughed and squeezed her hand. Their time had been much better spent, in Atalant’s opinion, but her smile broadened anyway as she looked around the circular room. The Ardulan patrons lined the walls, staring at her with a mixture of awe and confusion. She felt their hesitation and reverence and wondered how she looked to them in her crumpled clothing, dried stuk still clinging to parts of her skin.

  Nicholas threw a soft piece of andal at her arm. It slid from the slippery fabric and hit the floor with a wet plop. “You going to sit and eat so the rest of us can? You can contemplate godhood after breakfast.”

  She and Emn likely wouldn’t have a chance to be alone again for a long time, so Atalant leaned to her right and kissed Emn, in front of everyone, shaking off the events of yesterday as easily as she had Asth’s robe the night before. Keeping a tight grip on the younger woman’s hand, Atalant moved to the head of the table and sat, releasing Emn at the chair nearest hers. Their eyes met for a long moment and the warmth Emn sent along their bond buoyed Atalant’s confidence enough for her to turn away and address the room.

  “Okay, everyone,” she said
, clapping her hands together, and reached for the bacon. “Food first. Then, we figure out how to fix this mess.”

  Glossary of Ardulan Talents

  SCIENCE: Skills of creation, including biology, chemistry, agriculture, design, art, healing, and telepathy.

  Markings: Three linked, black circles on the inside of each wrist.

  AGGRESSION: Skills of assertion, including innate knowledge of weapons, warfare, trade, land development, leadership, and exploration.

  Markings: A variable number (usually seven to ten) of hexagons linked across the right side of the torso. Can span from armpit to hip.

  HEARTH: Skills of domesticity, including the arts of protection, shielding, child rearing, teaching, spiritual guidance, animal husbandry, public relations, and construction.

  Markings: Exactly four hexagons aligned side by side on the left shoulder.

  MIND: Skills of critical thinking, including piloting, problem assessment, mathematics, music, and physics.

  Markings: A set of three equilateral triangles, intersecting at one point on the back of the left calf.

  About the Author

  J.S. Fields is a scientist who has perhaps spent too much time around organic solvents. She enjoys roller derby, woodturning, making chain mail by hand, and cultivating fungi in the backs of minivans. Nonbinary, but prefers female pronouns. Always up for a Twitter chat.

  Email: chlorociboria@gmail.com

  Website: http://www.jsfieldsbooks.com

  Twitter: @galactoglucoman

  Other book by this author

  Ardulum: First Don

  Coming soon from J.S. Fields

  Ardulum: Third Don

  Prologue

  JANUARY 12TH, 2061 CE

  “I’ve just lost my last engine! We’re making repairs, but if we can’t dodge another hit—” The audio cut off. A small, blue light on Ekimet’s console went dark.

  Inside the Neek’s main temple to Ardulum, Ekimet laid zir head in zir hands and, not for the first time, tried to will the light to come back on. It didn’t work. It never worked. All the power of Ardulum, and Ekimet couldn’t save even one Ardulan life.