Ears dipped again.
Umat bared her teeth. “The World Mothers stand beside us. We are their daughters, heart, blood, and mind. Because of what we do now, our daughters will be forever safe.”
The dayisen kissed their own knuckles in blessing, then they streamed out of the too-narrow door and into the streets, where all of Mother Night's stars still shone overhead.
For a moment Lareet and Umat just stayed as they were. Lareet saw fear and excitement shining in her sister's eyes, and it was that sight that truly brought home the fact they were preparing for battle. With the Humans. Who built this city that floated so easily miles above the ground.
Mothers stand with us. We will need all your help today.
The morning Klaxon banged overhead. Praeis lifted herself groggily out of sleep. Theia stirred where she was draped across Praeis's torso. Raising her lids one at a time, Praeis finally gave herself a clear view of the unpainted ceiling with its unforgiving, suspended globe lamps. All around her, the sounds of grumpy, reluctant wakefulness told her another day in the service had begun.
The Klaxon silenced briefly, then began to bang again, louder and faster.
Now, Praeis Shin, it is time to set a good example.
She lifted Theia off of her and stood up. Together, they started rolling up the blankets and sleeping mats into tidy cylinders. Around them, the rest of the administrative shift were doing the same.
Lockers were banged open. Mats and blankets were exchanged for buckets of soaps and scrub brushes. Praeis handed Theia hers. Theia accepted it, squeezed her mother's arm, and headed off to the baths with most of the shift.
It had become a silent routine. Theia would go to the baths, and as the room emptied out, Praeis would get the black box David had given her out from her locker. She watched her daughter join the stream of arms-sisters and noticed how small she looked, despite her years and height What was she feeling? Praeis shared the waves of sorrow that washed through her, but even then sensed that Theia held something back. Theia had watched four sisters die, and now her pouch-sister was gone. Res, broad Res, lovely, lost, oh Ancestors Mine, where is she? Res was not just her pouch-sister, she was her last sister.
Praeis closed her eyes and clenched every muscle she possessed.
I cannot give way. I cannot give way. The Humans will find her.
She opened her eyes and sat down on one of the long benches. She lifted the lid, revealing an injection pipette and rows of vials the size of the first joint of her little finger, filled with clear serum.
As had become her habit, she counted them. Fifty-three. She picked up the injector and slotted one of the vials into place.
Fifty-two,
she thought as she held the pipette to her neck and sank it gently in.
She had just pulled it free when the dormitory door opened and Neys and Silv appeared in the doorway. Their ears were plastered flat against their scalps.
Adrenaline shot through Praeis's veins. Her arms-sisters spotted her and all but ran across the room.
“What is it?” she asked, closing the box quickly.
“The Humans are evacuating,” said Neys. Her mouth twitched. She was keeping herself from panting, but with difficulty.
No. You did not say that.
Silv bared her teeth. “The Humans are pulling out. All their personnel. We've just come from the Queens. Apparently the Humans all got orders before dawn to pack up and get to the port, or to wait at their outposts for transport.”
Praeis very carefully returned her precious box to her locker. She closed the door and faced her sisters again.
“Why?”
“We don't know!” Silv slammed a fist against a locker, rattling the doors. “All we can get out of them is “This is what we were ordered, so this is what we're doing, out of the way please.’ “ She did a good imitation of a high, precise Human voice. “Ancestors Mine, you'd think none of them ever had an independent thought!”
That's what a lot of them say about us.
Praeis rubbed her own ears. “All right. Let's get the shifts changed. I'll see if I can find out anything.”
“Yes, Task-Mother,” Neys and Silv chorused.
Praeis touched both their shoulders and strode out into the corridor with her arms-sisters one step behind.
The third shift was still on duty outside, sitting at their desks poring over books and papers, sipping hot drinks, and trying to keep awake and busy until the changeover. Neys and Silv split off to oversee the shift change and all its routine details that had to be checked, cleared, and signed off on. Praeis went straight to the main administrative office. There was only one light on, and if there were staffers who used it on the dark shifts, they were all on other errands.
This was an executive room, so it had a door. Praeis closed and locked it. She leaned on the handle for a moment, trying to steady herself. The Humans were evacuating. If the Humans were evacuating, they weren't searching for Res and Senejess. That was not permissible.
The equipment in the room was all fairly standard: desks, duplicators, speakers, stacks of charts, books, and forms. One wall, though, had been cleared of furniture to make room for a gleaming, Human comm station. Praeis hauled a folding chair in front of it. She touched the keys, which had been relabeled in the t'Therian alphabet, and tried to think what to do. She couldn't call Lynn. Lynn wasn't there. She didn't know Lynn's assistants well enough to call them.
She typed the address for David Zelotes aboard the
Ur.
Outside the door, she heard voices and footsteps. The corridors filled with sisters on their way to breakfast, or to bed, or to wherever they were ordered.
The screen lit up. David, suited and dressed, but not helmeted, peered out at her.
“Praeis? What's happened? Are you all right?”
“I'm fine,” she said in English, forcing herself to mean it. “It's just a little crazy down here right now.”
David's mouth twisted into a half smile. “Yeah, I guess it must be.”
Praeis leaned forward. “David, I've got some very nervous sisters around me right now. Do you have any idea what this Human evacuation is about?”
He looked away quickly and looked back again. “They really aren't saying, Praeis. We're all supposed to hole up in the secondary domes and …” He shrugged irritably. “And I don't know what. I'm just behaving like a good little sheep and hoping someone will deign to tell me what's happening.”
They haven't found Lynn yet either, have they?
“I'm sorry, David. This must be killing you.” All this time, and she still had to force herself to realize that David and Lynn were sisters, or as close as Humans could come to that bond.
He waved dismissively, but his face was still hard and angry. “ ‘Sokay,” he said. “I know it's … You're …” He gave up. “If I find out anything, I'll let you know, okay?” It was all he had to offer right now, and it wasn't much, but Praeis felt small somehow accepting it. “I can get hold of you at this address?”
“Put a general call down to this station. One of my arms-sisters will find me.”
“All right.” He nodded. Then his expression shifted, and she was dealing with the doctor. “How are you feeling?”
“I'm good,” she said firmly. “The treatments work. I am not sleeping well, but that could be—” A high-pitched whistle cut across her words. Her ears searched frantically for the source for a moment, before realizing it was coming from David's side.
A soft voice came down the thread. “All personnel report to secondary domes. Repeat. All personnel report immediately to secondary domes immediately. This is an emergency order. Repeat. This is an emergency order. Respond immediately.”
Praeis felt herself beginning to pant. David's eyes widened. “I …”
“Go,” she told him, and he left, without cutting the connection.
Praeis stared at the blank wad for a moment before she reached out with one trembling hand and shut the station down.
The Humans were being evacuated from t'Aori and the Hundred Isles. The Humans were being sequestered aboard their own ship, which was full of Getesaph, who had altered the relocation schedule so they would be in space before the t'Theria were.
Praeis got up and unlocked the door. She sat down again and waited.
Eventually, the door handles rattled, and the doors opened. Theia came into the office with Neys and Silv trading behind her.
“Mother?” Theia crossed the room and laid a hand on her arm. “Are you good?”
Praeis's ears crumpled. “No. No, I am not.”
“Ancestors Mine, Task-Mother, what's happened?” asked Silv.
“The ‘Esaph aboard the
Ur
have rebelled,” said Praeis.
Neys and Silv's ears instantly flattened against their scalps. Theia made a small noise and rested her forehead against her mother's shoulder.
Praeis straightened up and wrapped one arm around her daughter.
Did I say this war must not start? Well, they have started it without our help. Now there are other things we must do.
“We are going in. Neys, Silv, get the Group Mothers. Ted them we are on the go. I will inform the Majestic Sisters we are operative.”
Silv gawped at her. “How can we move without permission from the Queens?”
Praeis bared her teeth. “We must go, or there will be civil war. The Queens will realize that, but the debate will take time we do not have.”
Time my sister does not have. Time my daughter does not have.
Anger rushed through her, at the Getesaph, at the Queens, at herself. The Burn nibbled at the edges of her mind. For a moment she wondered again if the troops would follow her, but she dismissed the thought. She'd felt the mood during the musters. They all wanted their chance at the Getesaph. The Queens were right. They would follow a thrown stone.
“We are not ready,” said Neys softly.
Praeis shook her head. “We are very close.” Both Neys and Silv stared. “I'm sorry, arms-sisters, I have been deliberately falsifying the readiness reports. I cannot now explain why. However, we do have a wave ready to go and two more that can follow in a hurry. All that's needed are my orders and the Queens’.”
Neys's ears waved uncertainly. “What if they forbid it?”
“They will not forbid it. Not to me.” Her blood sang in her ears. Res. Senejess. Her daughter and sister were out there in the country of the ones who had just broken the Confederation.
Silv's hand touched her forearm. “Task-Mother, you are not making sense.”
“No.” Praeis's nostrils clamped shut and flared open. “I am not. I must explain, mustn't I?” She laid her hand on the back of Theia's neck, but did not look at her. She kept her eyes and ears focused on her arms-sisters.
“Urisk Island, my arms-sisters. We were fighting the Getesaph for possession of that island and its four neighbors. We had four thousand of our Great Family on that island—mothers, sisters and daughters—all settled there. The Getesaph attacked and we fought and we lost and lost, and kept on losing. We were going to die, all of us. The Getesaph would have killed us all, because we would have done the same to them. I would have if I could. I had to get the Chosa ty Porath to help us. But the ty Porath wanted Urisk, and they wanted all four thousand of our Great Family removed.
“I tried to get the Great Family to move. I tried and Jos tried and Shorie tried. There were similar lands to be settled, there were other fathers that could pass along family souls. The ty Porath were ready to become near family if we gave them the island back. Think of that. One less enemy, one more family branch for our children and their children.
“But they wouldn't move, and the Council wouldn't make them, not for others, not even on the promise of them becoming near family. We'd all die bravely together they said.
“The ty Porath wanted the island clean, they wanted to take back the souls of their Ancestors that they say were stolen by our Ancestors who sailed there. All they wanted was one island, the Getesaph wanted all five. All ten thousand of us.”
“So, you gave it to them,” said Silv quietly.
“No,” said Praeis. “The Queens ordered me to give it to them. They could not, they said, be seen to be uprooting members of our Great Family, but if those same sisters died in battle, it would be quite another thing.
“I obeyed those orders. I believed it was better to lose one island than five. I served I serve, my Queens. I stood against Jos and Shorie until they also obeyed. I told the ty Porath how Urisk's defenses were laid out, where the comm towers were, how many of us were standing active, and how many were armed but at rest. Jos and Shorie helped acquire the exact details.
“And the ty Porath came in on our side, and the Getesaph fled behind their own walls. A week later, we lost the island to our erstwhile allies. Because my blood sisters and I ordered our troops to do nothing about it, we were hounded into exile. The Queens let us get away because they knew who had given the orders and that we would still be believed if we spoke before we could be killed.” Her skin trembled. Theia pressed against her, and Praeis could feel the waves of horror, sorrow, and confusion spilling off her. She wrapped her arm tightly around her daughter, and kept on speaking. “They will give their consent to this mission. They will not make me speak now.” She turned one ear toward Neys and the other toward Silv. “Are you with me in this?”
They hesitated just the barest instant. “Yes, Task-Mother,” said Neys. Silv echoed her a second later. Then, with surprising force, so did Theia.
“My Sisters.” Praeis grasped their hands. “My Daughter. We will do this. The Getesaph will pay.”
C
LANG!
Marjorie Wilkes, junior engineer and victim of the graveyard shift, shot straight up in her chair. She sat in one of the engineering center's side cubes, sneaking in a little study for her mid-grade exams. Outside, a jumble of shouts and curses were muffled by the calm, forceful voice of Ozone, the ship's overarching artificial intelligence, ordering everybody who wasn't already there into the secondary domes immediately. Over it all, the chief engineer, her Uncle Teige, shouted: