A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers #2)(64)
For a long while, there was nothing she could do but lie there and hurt. Her mind had finally started to turn to can I even climb out of here with a broke-ass leg when she heard something – somethings – approach the hole. Jane held her breath. A dog came into view over the edge – a lean, sharp-eyed dog. There was a scrabbling sound behind it, a weirdly playful sound. Jane couldn’t believe it: two freckled pups, no longer than her arm from tip to tail. The big one had to be their mother. Jane had never seen pups up close. She knew better than to go into dog dens. They were too dark, too closed in. Jane and the mother stared at each other, neither making a sound. The mother broke her gaze first, looking at her paws, the sides of the hole, the drop to the bottom. She was figuring it out, just like Jane had been, trying to see if there was a safe way back up. Jane’s mouth went dry. All dogs were kinda scrawny, but she could see the ribs on this one. She could see the ribs on the pups, too. Where was their pack? Were they alone? Didn’t matter. This was a problem, a big f*cking problem. Even if she could manage the climb out, she couldn’t pull herself up with her weapon in hand, and – wait. Wait. She thought back to the moment she’d hit the ground. There had been so much noise, so much crunching . . . She grabbed the weapon rod and hit the switch. Nothing happened. She hit it again, again. She could hear the soft click of the firing mechanism inside, but nothing. Nothing. Her leg wasn’t the only broken thing.
She let out a yell from the very bottom of her belly, clenching her fists against her face. She could hear the pups startle. She turned her head to them, sharp and furious. ‘What? You scared? Raaaaaah!’ She yelled again. ‘Go away! Get out of here! Go! Go away!’ She threw a rock; it didn’t make it out. The pups backed away out of view. The mother looked wary, but she stood her ground, ears laid back, fur bristling.
Jane grabbed her satchel, torn and dirty from the fall. She pulled out the jerky she’d packed that morning. ‘Smell that?’ she yelled, shoving the handful of dried meat in the mother’s direction. ‘Huh? You know what that is?’ Jane took it between her teeth and ripped out a messy chunk. ‘Mmm! That’s you! That’s your pups! You’re f*cking delicious, did you know that?’ The words sounded good, but Jane shook as she said them. She thought about the empty click of the weapon. She thought about the shuttle, half a morning’s walk away. She thought about Owl.
She thought about Owl.
If the dogs could smell the jerky, they didn’t care. The pups rejoined their mother, who had sat down, muscles tight, head lowered into the hole. She was staying put. Jane was, too. She didn’t have a choice.
She and the dog stared at each other all day, despite more thrown rocks, despite Jane yelling until her throat was raw. They stared at each other until the sun went down. And even after that, Jane could see the mother’s eyes watching her in the dark, glinting green in the moonlight. Patient. Waiting. Hungry.
SIDRA
Sidra hadn’t been to the Aeluon district before. Their community on Coriol was less technologically up-to-date than their interstellar kin, but their neighbourhoods were a noticeable step up from Sixtop. The streets were well lit – rather to Sidra’s chagrin – and the buildings were clean, cared-for and, most importantly, aesthetically complementary. Everything was curved and domed, and the only colours beyond white and grey grew out of the ground.
Her quick-travel pod dropped her off outside the windowless establishment Tak’s location tag had steered her to. It didn’t look like much. There was no signage she could read, only a bright colour plate flashing soundless words on the wall. She started to make a note, then thought better of it. For a Human – even an ostensible one – recognising Aeluon emotions was a mark of cultural savvy. Understanding their language, however . . . that wasn’t something the average Human could do, and it was the sort of thing that could prompt questions. She closed her reminder list with a flicker of regret.
Tak was waiting for her. She stood in conversation with three other Aeluons, flashing their cheeks and looking congenial. She noticed Sidra approaching and called out: ‘Hey!’ The sound was startling in the silent street. She flashed something to the others, apparently bidding them farewell, then walked Sidra’s way. ‘Glad you could make it.’
‘Thanks,’ Sidra said. She glanced at the others. ‘Are we joining them?’ A quiet worry arose.
Tak smiled blue. ‘Nah, we just ran into each other. Some friends of one of my fathers.’ She leaned her head toward the nondescript building. ‘Come on, let’s get out of the cold.’ She hugged a woven sort of jacket around her torso as they went. ‘I should live in the Aandrisk district. They’ve got a hab dome heated warm enough for them to walk around naked – in this.’ She gestured to the stars that never set as they arrived at the outer wall. ‘So. I don’t know if you’ve been to one of these before,’ she said, pressing her palm against a doorframe. The wall melted to let them through.
‘One of—’ Sidra scrapped the sentence as she walked through the door. ‘Oh,’ she said softly, trying not to disturb the quiet within.
‘We obviously don’t have a spoken word for this,’ Tak whispered. ‘Klip just borrowed the Hanto for it: ro’valon. Direct translation is “city field”.’
The translation was apt. The large domed space was filled with rolling little hillocks, none taller than the kit, each covered with an inviting blanket of grass. Whatever framework rested below them had been sculpted to create leafy seats, living benches, private hollows to share secrets in, flat clearings to stretch out on. A few small trees were in there as well, creating subtle curtains and canopies. The curved walls surrounding everything were covered with projections of unending fields stretching outward, bright and clear as noon. It was realistic imagery, but the illusion had no effect on Sidra. She could tell that it wasn’t the real thing, which made it easy for her to know where to stop looking. For an organic sapient, though, she imagined the effect would’ve been quite convincing, and indeed, the people present seemed awfully content. They were mostly Aeluon, though Sidra spotted a few others (including an Aandrisk who had no qualms about lying spread-legged on his back, his discarded pants bundled beneath his head as he read his scrib).