ReDawn (Skyward, #2.2)(14)

Aside from FM and Jorgen, only Cobb looked sympathetic. The rest merely stared at me like my problems were none of their concern.

Still, my only choices were to wait them out or return home empty-handed, with nowhere to run and no way to help my brother, or Rinakin, or the rest of the resistance.

“But I would appreciate that,” I said, trying to sound like I meant it. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

If they took too long, I’d have to come up with another plan. I couldn’t leave my people in Unity’s hands for long.

But I couldn’t save any of my people on my own.





Six


Because Cuna professed to be some sort of ambassador to “lesser species,” the humans allowed them to escort me to a low-ceilinged room with strange rectangular furniture. At home we carved our furniture from wood, and even basic inexpensive pieces would have designs carved into them. The more upscale furniture would be soaked and bent, the chair arms and headboards molded into swirling shapes. I stood in front of an armchair that consisted of a fabric cushion stretched over a metal frame, every piece forming a square angle.

I sat down on it. It was more comfortable than it looked, I would grant them that.

Cuna assured me that they would speak to the humans about my offer and then left me alone in the room. They weren’t gone more than a minute before there was a soft knock on the door. I could feel a congregation of cytonic resonances on the other side.

Jorgen and his slugs. “Come in,” I called, and Jorgen opened the door. FM stood on the other side with him, holding a basket of something green and flaky. They both stepped in and shut the door behind them.

“Cobb said we could bring you food,” FM said. “But we didn’t know what your people eat. Cuna said that algae wasn’t toxic for your people, so we brought some for you to try.” She pushed the basket into my hands. I knew what algae was, but I’d never thought to eat it. It grew beneath the surface bark sometimes, and could form in our atmospheric water generators if we weren’t careful to keep them clean. “Cuna also told us that you were more likely to eat fruits and tree nuts. We don’t have any nuts, and this was the only fruit we could find.” She shoved a small object into my hand. “Detritus isn’t the best place to grow things.” The fruit was red and roughly round and had a small brown stem at the top. It was much smaller than the fruits that grew on the trees at home, more similar to one that might grow on a vine on one of the farming branches.

    “Thank you,” I said. I moved over to a small table—also square, with straight-angled legs. The conference table had been the same. These humans were very fond of right angles.

“I’m sorry about my mother,” Jorgen said.

“Your mother?”

“Jeshua Weight. She’s…a lot to deal with sometimes. But she means well.”

FM looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t. At home it would be considered rude to comment on the failings of someone else’s family member unless one was specifically invited to. Possibly humans were the same.

There was another knock on the door, and Jorgen opened it. Three more humans stood there, each with a yellow taynix tucked into a sling across their chest. The humans all wore the same clothes—flight suits, with the same patch affixed to their shoulders. One was a woman with brown skin and long, curly hair that hung halfway down her back. It still surprised me that all of the humans had hair and skin in various shades of bark colors, like they’d been drawn in different tones with the same pencil.

    All except the last man who walked in. His hair was a shade of red nearly as bright as the stripes on Boomslug, and it contrasted against his pale skin. I wondered if that color was natural, or if humans sometimes dyed their hair the way my people did.

“We heard Alanik was back,” said the girl with the curly hair. “We wanted to see for ourselves, and Cobb said it was okay as long as we didn’t help her escape.”

I hoped he said that in jest. “I don’t need anyone’s help escaping,” I said. “I’m here of my own free will.”

“Of course you are,” FM said. “This is Kimmalyn, Rig, and Arturo.”

The one she said was Arturo—a man with brown hair—stood by the door staring at me. The humans had done that less than I would have thought, really. The only reason I could keep from staring at them was because there were so many of them.

This didn’t feel rude though. More like he was sizing me up. I stared right back at him to let him know I was up to the challenge.

He seemed more puzzled by that than anything, so maybe I’d misread the situation.

Kimmalyn came over and sat down next to me. “Are they feeding you algae strips? They could at least have brought you some dessert.”

“Cuna said the UrDail don’t artificially sweeten their food,” FM said.

Sweeten it? Most of the spices that grew on the vines were flavorful, but not particularly sweet. Which was good, because some of the fruits we grew were too sweet for my taste, especially when they were raw. “This is fine,” I said. “Thank you.” I lifted the fruit, testing the skin, which was thin and crisp.

    “You can just bite into it,” Kimmalyn said. “You don’t need to peel it or anything. Unless your species doesn’t like peel. We could bring you a knife—”