Date Point: 14y6d AV
Weaver-class troop transport, approaching the Three Valleys, Gao
Specialist Michael Murphy, 1-325 INF (Airborne), 82nd Airborne Division
Weavers were a hell of a step up from a C-130 or a Chinook. Sure, they strongly resembled a Chinook in a lot of ways but they were fuckin’ quiet inside. Civilian passengers flights were noisier.
Nothing wrong with their performance, either. The damn things could hit escape velocity, which meant that across the ground they could pull a comfortable multiple of the speed of sound.
It put the whole planet in arm’s reach, now that the sky was under control. And apparently there was somethin’ valuable for them to grab and hold.
Just his luck that Michael had got stuck riding with the captain, though. Not that there was anything wrong with Captain Landry, he was one’a the good guys. But the flight out was quieter than Michael woulda liked.
The Guys were talking about that awful fuckin’ Workhouse-themed Gaoian soap opera.
“Niko totally wasn’t the killer, though! He’d just fought a mating duel the night before and won a contract, right? He was too busy gettin’ laid to be skulking around the Housefather’s quarters!”
“Okay, but who’s that leave? Suno?”
“Bullshit. He’s tiny even for a Gaoian, and he’s meek as hell!”
“Bruh, it’s the little quiet ones y’gotta watch for.”
“Nah, that’s just a Hollywood trope. Does…Gaoianwood? Do they do that?”
“Gaoianwood’s a hole in the ground now, bruh.”
That ended the conversation very abruptly.
Carter never ever knew when to shut up. “…What? You musta realized that shit ain’t gettin’ made no more, right? That cliffhanger was the last ever episode.”
Johnson groaned. “…Fuck. Okay, this fuckin’ war just got way more personal.”
“Well…the Great Father guy said they were sending all their women and children to Cimbrean, along with supplies and stuff. Old dudes, too.”
“Yeah, but Long Johnson gotta get his soap opera fix or he gets cranky,” Michael chimed in. “And I kinda doubt the first thing they’re gonna do is set up a production crew.”
“…Hey, I wonder if any of the actors had implants? Like, instead of a teleprompter…” Carter mused. “They could just read the lines off a HUD or somethin’. They’d never forget their lines!”
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Captain Landry commented. “Except for the whole ‘getting possessed by digital demons’ part.”
Carter paused, grimaced, and went quiet. Johnson meanwhile was wearing the conflicted look of a man who might conceivably have to shoot one of his favorite actors.
Landry’s expression was unreadable behind his sunglasses and the keffiyeh he wore around his neck against Gao’s cold climate. “Right. Knock off ‘yer jawin’ and get ready. ETA in two minutes. Master sergeant, if you please.”
They got ready. The Stonebacks at the front of the Weaver were already on their feet and readying themselves. They weren’t expecting trouble—the whole point of this op was to relieve a force of survivors from HMS Caledonia and take over the farm they’d commandeered as a springboard for securing a huge swathe of farmland and vital rural territory. But there was apparently a small army of Clanless waiting for them, and the ‘Backs were big on first impressions.
They were good at first impressions, too. Nothin’ said ‘don’t fuck with us’ like a fist full of claws, teeth that’d have a wolf cowering in the corner and a thick layer of shaggy fur.
And yet…
After seeing and meeting Daar he’d expected all the Stonebacks to be goddamned monsters. And to be fair they were, all great big shaggy-furred dudes with claws that could tear through walls. Michael wouldn’t ever wanna fight any of them. It was just…well, they weren’t Daar. He was a giant that put them all to complete shame, with his short-cut fur only emphasizing the enormous difference. The Great Father was so impressive that he could comfortably hang with the HEAT, according to reputation. He was riding along on the other Weaver with Lieutenant Moore, leading from the front, and the other Stonebacks looked at him kinda like a regular Gaoian looked at a Stoneback.
Then again, they looked that way at their smallest Brother, too. Fiin was something like Daar’s second-in-command, and what he lacked in size compared to the others it was hella obvious he made up for in massive smarts. He absolutely radiated danger, too; he was still a big dude and he had claws. And he watched everyone like a hawk.
He prowled up the Weaver now to share a word with Landry. “Great Father says the LZ might be clear, but we have no guarantees about implants,” he said. “Standing orders remain. We are to treat everyone in the compound as potentially an enemy, and terminate any implanted or resisting males or Humans with extreme prejudice.”
“How extreme are we talking, Brother Fiin?”
Fiin bared his fangs. It looked like a grin but it really, really wasn’t. “Instantly and without remorse.”
Michael nodded to himself. He could do that. It was gonna suck if he had to ice one of the Caledonia survivors, but if they had implants they were dead already. More like puttin’ down a fuckin’ zombie than a person, so they said.
Maybe he’d believe it too, if he repeated it long enough.
Landry simply nodded. “Right.”
Behind him, the Weaver’s ramp dropped and all the noise they’d been missing throughout the flight came pounding into fill their ears.
It was a simple enough landing. The farm had a basic compacted-dirt helipad ready and waiting for them, but the Weavers set down in the field some distance away where huge round bales of the local version of hay gave them plenty of concealment. They’d built a decent defensive wall, too. Banked earth ramparts, good fields of fire. Not bad at all for workin’ with just what they could scrounge up in the field.
They were challenged correctly, responded appropriately, invited to enter. Michael was on the entry team along with his sergeant, Fiin, Daar, one of their Brothers, and the lieutenant. They found the camp’s occupants waiting for them in a posture of surrender—the Clanless Gaoians were all standing four-pawed, while the humans were lined up against the farmhouse with their hands pressed to the wall.
Everyone moved as swiftly and aggressively as they could to secure the situation. Michael only remembered his part, where he advanced towards the back of the farmhouse right behind his sergeant, and checked over a Gaoian with all-white fur. Was he an albino? Michael honestly didn’t know.
The entire encounter lasted less than ten seconds while the bulk of their forces quickly secured the farm proper, checking for any nasty surprises that might be laying around. In short order the both teams reported their objectives secure.
What happened next was weirdly and entirely Gaoian. Once everyone had scanned each other’s heads and found their skulls free of alien tech, the Great Father instantly transformed into…an entirely different person. One second he and the Stonebacks were ready to tear everyone into pieces, and the next…
It was like they were all old friends.
The Stonebacks helped their fellow Gaoians off their feet and immediately sniffed noses exactly like dogs did. Michael felt a little embarrassed but helped his albino up, who seemed like he suffered from poor eyesight. He wobbled gratefully to his feet and flicked his ears in all directions at once, and generally made a fuss of the moment.
They didn’t sniff noses, though. That was a little too weird for Michael.
Daar tried at first to restrain his natural boisterousness, and about five seconds later gave up and let loose on everyone. He greeted the humans with barely-contained glee, especially a teeny blonde woman whom he swept up off the ground and bear-hugged.
“I am very proud of you!” He exclaimed and actually chittered, somehow managing to make it a bass noise. “No direction, nothing other than ‘yerselves and ‘yer wits, and a nice chance meeting…now you’ve already got the area secure!”
“You’d be Lieutenant Kovač?” Landry asked, as the medics bustled inside to start seeing to the wounded.
“Uh, yes sir,” Kovač confirmed as Daar put her down. The wonky-ass upside-down Air Force chevrons on her arm said tech sergeant rather than lieutenant, which told a whole story all by itself, and the exhaustion on her face told a second one.
Damn, it felt good to be the cavalry.
“And now you get to boss ‘Horse around, too!” Daar boomed.
“Please, I already do that,” Kovač grinned. It was obvious she and Daar really did go back a ways. She cleared her throat and indicated one of the nearby Clanless, a skinny silverfur who had that nose-in-the-air look that said he thought he was important. “Uh, Great Father Daar, captain, this is Yeego. He rallied the local Clanless workers. They’re the ones who helped us get this all set up.”
“The escape pods?” Landry asked, all business like he usually was.
“All accounted-for,” Kovač reported. “Everyone who made it off Caledonia and checked in is here.”
There weren’t a lot of them. In fact, the survivors numbered only a few dozen people, out of a crew of probably a couple hundred people. That was a lot of experienced ship crew the Brits had lost to this fight, and Michael knew they were gonna feel it. One of the sailors—an east indian chick—looked like she was choking back tears.
He couldn’t blame her. If his battalion had lost that many people, they’d be hurtin’ bad.
Landry grunted. “…You’ve done well, in the circumstances,” he said. Coming from him that was a jaw-dropper of a compliment, and Kovač seemed to realize it.
“Thank you, sir.”
Yeego cleared his throat the way Gaoians did. It sounded more like a sneeze than anything else. “So…What happens next?” he asked.
Landry gave him an unreadable look from behind his sunglasses. “There’s no time to stand on ceremony. I’m assuming command. You and Lieutenant Kovač will tell Great Father Daar and me absolutely everything about the surrounding area. Our mission is to expand and hold a safe zone free of biodrones and begin training your Clanless up into an effective fighting force. As soon as I’m satisfied that I know everything I need to, the SOR technicians will return to Farthrow, and the Royal Navy personnel will be evacuated to Cimbrean.”
He stepped aside as a couple of medics barged through carrying somebody on a litter. The Stonebacks were assembling a field jump array in the barn, and the medics laid the stricken sailor next to it before returning to the farmhouse for the next one.
Yeego looked like he wanted to object to having his little kingdom taken over, but Daar gave him a feral look that made the much smaller male go weak at the knees and flatten his ears submissively. “There ain’t a problem,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“N–no, of course not. My Father.”
Daar instantly snapped back into a happier persona. “Good! We’re gonna need competent ag managers, Yeego. I ain’t got any doubt you’ll be one of ‘em, right?”
Somehow that wasn’t a question, either.
Yeego straightened. “I will give my best and more.”
“Outstanding.” Daar used that word exactly like the saltiest NCO would when wielding it like a weapon, and Michael loved him completely for it. All the humans and Stoneback Brothers caught his meaning: Yeego didn’t, and preened a little.
“There’s a lotta mouths gonna need feedin’,” Daar continued, “And a lotta rebuildin’ to do. Clanless are gonna be the foundation fer that, as you always have been.” Daar turned to the watching workers. “All’a you. Now more than ever the future of Gao rests on your shoulders. I know you’re up to it.”
Captain gave him and the rest of the crew a Look, which Michael’s sergeant took to mean they should get lost. They found stuff to do quick enough. Carter got the job of making sure the latrines were up to standard, Johnson was universally acknowledged as their cooking and fire guy, and vanished to start getting that all set up…
Michael found himself doing a slow circuit of the perimeter, inspecting the earthworks. Not that he really had any idea what he was lookin’ at, but he sure as shit wouldn’t have a problem putting that much dirt between him and incoming firepower so they were probably good.
Behind him, the litters and their patients were loaded into the field jump array, which fired with a thump. A stack of boxes, ammo cans and crates came back the other way.
“‘Ey up, mate. Any chance I could bum a fag?”
Michael eyed the Brit suspiciously. The man was a Royal Marines corporal with exhausted lines all over his face and a week of beard growth, who rolled his eyes and translated after a second. “Have you got any cigarettes?” he asked. “ I’m fuckin’ gaspin’ for a smoke.”
“I got a dip…” Michael offered.
“Fuck it, sure. If it had nicotine in it I’d snort dog shit right now.”
Michael chuckled and broke out his tin. “Here you go, bruh.”
“Cheers.”
The marine took a modest pinch and tucked it in between lip and teeth.
“Gross habit,” Michael commented, by way of making conversation.
“M-hmm,” the Brit agreed. He returned the tin and then offered his hand to shake Michael’s. “Corporal Wilde.”
“Specialist Murphy. You guys did pretty good for yourselves out here.”
“Too bad we never got the showers working,” Wilde sighed as the nicotine started to hit and leaned against the earthwork. “Just wet naps and airing out daily. The Gaoians think it’s funny as shit.”
“Yeah, you uh… got a little somethin’ on you there,” Michael said, diplomatically. Wilde’s gear was heavily stained, and a lot of it looked like it had maybe been something’s guts once.
“M-hmm. Hunter. Doesn’t come out.”
Michael didn’t know what to say about that. Nor about the bullet hole right in the middle of Wilde’s chest plate. Both details were downright unnerving, though he tried to keep himself game…
“I take it ‘yer green, mate,” Wilde observed, not unkindly.
“…Yeah.”
“Well. Don’t you worry.” Wilde looked back at the farmhouse, then out across the field towards another point of light off in the distance. “I reckon you’ll be securing that town next. Bad rumors coming out of there—You won’t be green for long.”
“I don’t think any of us will be.”
“Nope.”
“Any idea what’s next for you?” Michael asked him.
“JETS I reckon, if they’ll have me. HEAT is…not my style. But I tell you this, I definitely want to work with the SOR some more. Even their bloody nerds are good.”
“They’re the bestest.” Great Father Daar had appeared behind them, apparently looking to prowl about while the officers did their handover. “All of ‘em.” Brother Fiin stood guard a respectful distance behind, once Michael looked around. “Yer right, too. We’ll be securing that ag station tomorrow morning. It’s got a comm relay an’ stuff.”
Nobody really understood how exactly to deal with the notion that the supreme dictator of all the Gao was among them. Michael in particular didn’t know how you had a smoke break with someone like that.
Wilde either knew, or was long past the point of giving a shit. Considering how heavy and dark the bags under his eyes were, it was probably the latter.
“You using us for that maneuver tomorrow?” he asked.
“Nah, y’all done your part. I’m hopin’ t’get you shipped out tonight, in fact.”
“…Thank you.”
The big alien-bear-thing flicked his left ear and chittered. “Go get some shuteye. There’s a nice corner over there you can curl up in.”
Wilde creaked upright, clapped Michael on the shoulder with a nod, gave a rather more respectful nod to Daar, and shuffled off in the direction Daar had indicated. “You’ll do fine, mate,” he promised.
Daar watched Wilde leave then fixed his stern, unrelenting gaze on Michael, who felt like he was suddenly undergoing the worst inspection of his military career.
“Nervous?”
Honesty seemed the only answer. “Yessir.”
“Good.” Daar’s expression softened into something much more kindly. “Do me a favor, though. Don’t let the Clanless see that if you can. They’ve gotta look up to you, y’know.”
“I’ll try not to, sir.”
Daar duck-nodded like Gaoians always did. “He’s right. You’ll do fine.”
Michael couldn’t help himself. “How do you know?”
Daar chittered somewhere in the infrasonic and shook his pelt out. “‘Yer human.”
“So?” Everyone kept saying that and it was starting to annoy Michael.
“That’s plenty, trust me. I know you don’t get it yet but you will.”
“I mean…you say that, but you’re the Great Father. Also you’re like four times my size.”
Michael had seen videos of Daar in action. The way he just blurred through a battlefield and plowed through everything in his path…it was hard to imagine much of anything hurting the Great Father, especially when he was wearing that incredible armor of his.
“Yeah.” Daar duck-nodded sagely. “But so what? Size ain’t everything.”
“Wh–?” That was rich coming from him. “How–!? Bullshit! You’re huge and you move like a goddamned demon!”
“I do! But again, so what?” Daar chittered in his deep voice. “I like you, y’ain’t afraid to tell it like you see it! You get into all sortsa trouble back home, don’tcha?”
…It abruptly occurred to Michael that maybe he should tone it down a little while talking with the leader of the Gao. It was even worse because Daar had him pegged, too. Michael had dug some pretty deep holes in his short military career with his quick mouth and maybe quicker fists…he suddenly felt like his ears were burning.
“Oh, relax. I ain’t gonna eatcha!” Daar didn’t seem to give one wet shit. “But don’t worry too much about any o’ that. I’m damn near the biggest an’ strongest dude there is in most any thinkin’ species but a bullet’ll kill me dead just the same as you. Maybe easier ‘cuz I’m a big target! Hell, I’m a good match for most o’ HEAT, too…but you wanna guess how I do when we spar?”
“…You lose?” Even saying it, that seemed hard to believe.
Daar shrugged his vast shoulders. It was an odd gesture to make while he stood on all fours like a talking wolverine. “Not allatime, an’ I’m way better now than I was at first…but yeah. I still lose enough t’keep me learnin’ an’ grounded. Wanna know why?”
Michael nodded dumbly.
“It’s all up here.” Daar rested his gigantic paw on Michael’s head. “Bein’ a monkey helps a lot, bein’ built for supergravity helps too, but the thing is? In the end, even that don’t really matter. An enemy can adapt to the physical problem an’ you can always assume there’s someone better. What matters more’n anything is fightin’ instincts.”
Michael eyed Daar suspiciously. “…Instincts.”
“Yeah. I don’t know what in Keeda’s name happened in ‘yer evolution t’make your species the way it is, but y’all are natural born fighters. Human instincts are better’n anyone’s, even mine, and mine are pretty damn good if I do say so myself. I don’t know if that’s just ‘yer nature or if we’ve had our instincts suppressed by the Hierarchy an’ we gotta relearn everything, or whatever, but it don’t really matter, same result regardless. Every time I spar with Clan SOR I learn just a ‘lil bit more about how much I don’t know about real fights, especially when I spar with Highland.”
Michael had to ask. “Isn’t he, uh, one of the ‘smaller’ guys on the HEAT?”
Daar chittered happily. “Yup! Physically I’ve always been better’n him. Still don’t matter. There ain’t any good reason anymore he should ever win against me, but more often’n not he still yanks my tail. Sometimes he wins hard, too. I think only Righteous is a more naturally dangerous dude, it’s scary. It’s ‘cuz they got real fight in‘im. Most all you humans do, and I can tell just by watchin’ you today that ‘ya got it strong, too.
“Well, if you say so, sir.” Michael didn’t know how else to respond.
“I do! You should listen to me, I know these things.” Daar gave an unmistakably sly sideways look. “So don’t worry so much! Trust me, you already know how to win. All you gotta do tomorrow is follow ‘yer training an’ don’t die. Easy!”
Easy. Sure. Michael really had no idea what to say to that, but Daar’s unstoppable force of personality apparently extended to compassion. He rose to his hind feet and clapped his enormous paw on Michael’s shoulder. “It’s natural t’be nervous. Balls, I sure as fuck was ‘fer my first go. But we’ve got ‘yer back, Friend. You should get some rest. I bet captain Landry will post watch pretty soon so may as well get a nap in, yeah?”
“I’ll do that.”
Daar duck-nodded, and ambled away into the dark, leaving Michael feeling…he wasn’t sure what he felt. What the fuck did being human have to do with anything? There were nukes and shit in this war. Hundreds of humans were already dead. It was a spit in the ocean next to the uncountable millions of dead Gaoians, but…
He put the thought aside and did as the Great Father had suggested. If nothing else, he’d face tomorrow well-rested and with a full belly.
Somehow, he knew that would be enough.
Date Point: 14y6d AV
Three Valleys, Planet Gao
Brother Fiin, of Stoneback
Daar wasn’t following his own advice. He’d encouraged practically everybody in the forward operating base to get some sleep if they weren’t on guard duty, insisting that everybody should be rested, fed and ready for the operation to come in the morning.
Ordinarily, Fiin knew, his Champion—the Great Father, he reminded himself—would have joined in some jawin’ and chewin’ around the fire and snuggled up with everybody else.
Tonight was different. Daar apparently was on a hair trigger to pounce at the first moment of alone time he could get.
The ways of Champions and Great Fathers were still something of a mystery to Fiin, but before all those other things, Daar was a Brother. His own words. And if a Brother was hurtin’…
“Aren’t you going to turn in, My Father?”
If Daar cringed just for a microsecond at Fiin addressing him so, Fiin knew better than to comment. He was very glad he didn’t have to wear that title.
Daar wore it well, though. He gave Fiin one of those calculating looks that said there were some very deep thoughts indeed going on behind that feral forehead, then shook his head and shoulders. “Nah. Got somethin’ important ‘ta do first. Could use the help, if ‘yer willin’”
“Of course.” A ‘Back never shied away from work.
“Good. It’s somethin’…personal.”
Fiin followed him out a ways, past the packed earth flat bald patch the FOB’s builders had called a Helipad, down into a little scrappy corner of the perimeter that was still inside the base, but well tucked away and unused. A couple of Daar’s personal Claw of Stonebacks had hauled in some scrap wood. He of course hadn’t wanted a security detail, but Garl and Fiin had been insistent, even in the face of a growled threat.
“Thanks,” the Great Father grunted, and set about piling the wood as he wanted it. Fiin and the other two pitched in and between them quickly had a stumpy, flat-topped pyramid of dry wood, perfect to burn. Especially when Daar stuffed its innards with dry hay.
“Bit’a old lore for ya, Brothers,” he said, stepping back and dusting his paws off once it was finished. “Way back when, the Clan gave every fallen Brother a proper pyre. Din’t matter if a hunnerd of’em fell in one battle, din’t matter if it was a thousand. Din’t matter if there wasn’t enough left of him to scrape up and stick on top, he got a pyre.”
He chittered darkly. “Big Hotel wanted us t’forget,” he said. “Figger they think it was some imperfection or somethin’. Kept us thinkin’ about…that.” He looked up and gave the night sky his thoughtful attention. “Life, the universe. All the big shit. ‘Cuz when you get down to the dirt, why’s it all matter? Even stars die, in the long story. Shit, the whole universe is gonna die, in the longest. An’ if it’s all a big story, an’ if there ain’t nobody out there hearin’ the story an’ rememberin’ it then…why? What’s it all for, huh? Why keep fightin’?”
Fiin shifted uncomfortably. Such melancholy just wasn’t… it wasn’t Daar.
“…‘Cept it does matter,” Daar declared. “It matters to us. An’ if there ain’t nobody out there to say otherwise, then our opinion’s the only one that counts. If we say it matters, it fuckin’ matters. If it matters to us, we keep fightin’. It don’t have to make sense.”
He sighed, reached into a pocket and produced a lighter. It was the work of seconds for him to touch it to the hay and have the little pyre they’d made crackling into bright, fierce life.
“…I don’t know why it matters, but it does. An’ I know that in fightin’ for a future, I’m gonna send a lotta Brothers into their final missions. We’re gonna kill, an’ wreck, an’ destroy a lotta shit that mattered ‘cuz other things matter more…But no way am I gonna forget the fallen. Not never.”
Fiin’s head duck-nodded all by itself, unbidden. So did the others’.
“…Rebar taught me a lot. I taught him a lot. He…He was important. There’s a trillion billion stars out there that don’t matter for shit, but he mattered. That’s what this is about.”
Daar looked into the fire for a long moment. Before long it had grown into a raging inferno, and was causing enough air current to ruffle the longer fur around his neck.
“…How many Brothers we lose so far?” he asked after a silent while.
Fiin knew that figure all too intimately. “Ninety-seven, My Father. We’ve been…lucky.”
It was painful saying such a thing, but it was the truth. The Fangs had better equipment, tactics, growing air support, and supply lines. They were elite even by Human reckoning and better than the Enemy in every single way. Except for numbers. Any Fang in any engagement was routinely outnumbered by over a thousand to one, and against that great press of biodrones, and even with modern weapons and tactics, losses were inevitable. The war needed to turn, and turn soon, or there may not be any Stonebacks left to save the Gao.
A thought which weighed heavily on the Great Father, it seemed. “Way too many.” He shook his pelt out and declared, “Every one of ‘em gets a pyre. Don’t hafta be right away, and if we need th’wood for somethin really important we can put it off. But Every. One. Of. Them. Gets a pyre. Am I understood?”
“More than understood,” Fiin assured him.
Some bit of decrepit farm scrap wood deep inside the pile popped and the heap sagged. A volcanic puff of bright embers leapt upwards and spiralled away on the smoke.
The Great Father sighed and watched them wink out, high above. “…Goodbye, Brother.”
Date Point: 14y6d AV
Planet Akyawentuo, Ten’Gewek Protectorate, Near 3Kpc Arm
Xiù Chang
“Hello, Sister.”
Everybody was being so helpful that it hurt Xiù deep in her heart. Gratitude was…painful in its way—to be surrounded by so many wonderful people whose own souls ached to help her…But of course, they couldn’t. That was what hurt.
Sometimes, even the most gregarious person needed solitude. Or maybe the chance to speak, alone, with somebody who wasn’t there. There were some places where even the people she loved most needed to be locked out, just for a little while.
She’d made a tiāndēng to keep her hands busy while her thoughts bumped, knocked and jolted around in her head, and half-listened to the conversations that came and went nearby as different people checked on her. It was kinda rough and it definitely wasn’t made from traditional materials… but it would do.
It was ready. And the person she did want to speak to right now was right there, waiting and listening.
“I know you’re up there, Singer.”
If it was possible to drop out of a tree sheepishly, the Singer managed it.
“You always know,” she said. “How?”
Xiù tapped her nose. The Singer didn’t stink, far from it. She smelled pleasantly like supple leather and wet dirt after rain, but robustly so. All the People had a very physical scent…and they were completely unaware of it, their own sense of smell being practically nonexistent.
The Singer sighed. “You want I leave you alone?” she asked.
“…No. No, it’s okay,” Xiù said. The young Ten’Gewek shaman nodded and sat on her tail beside her, examining the lantern with her head slightly tilted.
“…Is…what?” She asked.
“It’s a prayer.”
The Singer nodded. “This Ayma…very important to you. A sister, from another…what is word? Spicey?”
“Species.” A little smile touched Xiù’s mouth. Amazing, considering how bleak she’d felt only a few hours earlier. She considered the lantern in her hands. “…It’s funny. I’ve always been kinda… stuck, I guess,” she said. “Not one thing or another, you know? Stuck between my parents and my friends, between my…” She paused and considered her words. The People didn’t have divergent ethnic groups any more, there were too few of them. “…Between the tribe of my ancestors and the tribe I grew up in…like…like when a child reaches for a branch that’s too far away and they can’t pull themselves back but they can’t go forward either.”
The Singer nodded, though a spark of mirth lit her own face at the description.
“Then I was…taken,” Xiù continued. “Stolen from my tribe by another who wanted to poke at me and prod me and learn about my tribe by taking from me. And they did the same to the Gaoians. Ayma was taken too, by the same people. That’s how we met.”
“You escaped together.”
“Yes. Fought. Killed…a lot of people. Not good people, weak and greedy people…but still people. And Ayma…she called me a sister and gave me a home, for as long as I needed it. She made me feel not stuck.”
Tears prickled the back of Xiù’s eyeballs, and she stopped to compose herself. She’d done a lot of crying already, and she wanted to do more, and more, and more and just let all of the hurt out…but that was the problem with crying. It didn’t really let the hurt out, it just gave it a voice. If she cried as much as she wanted, she’d never stop.
Instead, her hands fidgeted on the tiāndēng
“She was…a simple person. Pure. I was her Sister, and if she had to pull a moon out of the sky for me—for any of her sisters—she would give it everything she had. She went so much further for me than I ever went for her…”
“She sound more like mother than sister,” the Singer observed.
Xiù couldn’t help but give a heartbroken nod. “…Yeah.”
There was a long silence full of thoughts, before the Singer gently nudged her back to the present.
“…You should use that prayer,” she prompted.
“…I don’t know if it would mean anything to her.”
“You thought to make it, so it mean much to you,” the Singer pointed out. “You are you because of her. Do what matter to you, it will honor her.”
“What matters to me…” Xiù echoed. She considered the lantern a while longer, then stood up, unfolding her legs out from under her and rising to her feet in one smooth movement.
Allison and Julian were nearby, leaning against a tree and being present but not imminent. She gave them a small smile and they were immediately beside her.
“Ready?” Allison asked. Xiù nodded.
“Ready.”
“You forgot this,” Julian said, and handed her his lighter.
“…Of course I did,” Xiù managed to laugh at herself. She sighed, hefted the lantern in her hand and then turned to face the setting sun.
“Ayma…I’m going to miss you more than I know how to say. And I know it’s weird to say considering how we met, and…everything….But I don’t want to imagine what my life would have been like without you.”
She lit the tea light in its base, and balanced it out on her fingertips at arm’s length as the hot air lifted its weight.
“…Thank you.”
The Singer took an astonished step backwards as the lantern left her hand and drifted skywards. Xiù lost track of it in the sunset quickly, though—her vision was far too blurry with restrained tears.
It was enough. She didn’t feel great…but she felt like she could continue.
She shut her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of warm, comforting hands on her back while the Singer shielded her eyes and tried to watch the lantern vanish.
“That is…how your people say goodbye?” the Singer asked, eventually.
“No,” Xiù shook her head. She turned away, and set her thoughts on the future. “It’s how I say goodbye.”