Authors: Pamela Foland
She fished the pop-pad from the factor pack still in her possession and keyed in the com- number of her foster parent’s quarters. After a few minutes of blank screen, the please leave a message -note flashed. Annette tapped in three words, “I did it,” and flashed a smile at the screen while toggling image capture. A small picture bearing her smiling face fitted itself next to her words.
Annette tapped send and the message went wherever messages go to wait to be opened by her parents. Now who else could she tell? No one in school or factor pre-training
had been particularly friendly. Really she couldn’t think of anyone she’d want to know other than Niri, and Niri already knew. So did Tawny, who’d had a front row seat on Annette’s lapel. Though Tawny might have a few suggestions . . .
“Hey Tawny, what should I do now?”
The pin made a static-ish sound, the equivalent of an electronic clearing of the throat, “Perhaps you should make that visit to Tina.”
Annette frowned, a visit to the clinic was hardly celebratory. Her stomach made an abrupt gurgling sound, she was hungry. She could shuffle back to her room, for the moment, and have Tawny feed her. Or she could try the cafeteria, it was an odd off meal hour but with the dietary needs of various species to take into account, food could always be procured. Maybe she could find someone to tell her news to there, maybe Carl? Annette felt heat rise in her cheeks at the surprisingly satisfying thought.
- - - - - - - - - -
Yllera pulled at the sleeve of her survival suit. It was tighter than she had thought it would be, but at least it kept her cool. The temperature sensitive band on her wrist was reddish gold, which meant the temperature of the desert air was around one hundred and ten degrees.
The uncovered portions of her face confirmed it. Yllera eyed the sun’s position, almost directly above her, her desert survival training told her to set up her shelter and rest out the hottest portion of the day, to conserve water and keep from overtaxing her suit, but she wanted to reach the mountains sometime today and wasting four hours seemed ridiculous. It was so hard to resist the urge to keep moving, knowing she had an continuous supply of water and rescue would be immediate should an emergency arise. She was a secondary factor now, and she was acting in an almost primary role. No factor had managed to get in with the Agurian nomads of the Jelarian desert before and there were no helpful tips in the primary report, and it was her job to write the secondary report.
Yllera noticed a flush of green up ahead. That meant water and probably rock. That decided it. She would go as far as the green and rest there. Yllera kept her focus on the ground beneath her glancing to make sure she was still on course. She placed each foot carefully. Just because help was available didn’t mean she wanted to end her first mission as a secondary with an emergency.
Twenty, thirty, one hundred-thirty paces the horizon was always farther than it seemed, at least the green had gotten closer. She could now tell that it was a patch of local succulents known as lifeweed. The sap of the plant had antibiotic qualities and jelled over to form a watertight seal when the plant was injured. The botanists back in Sanctuary theorized locals might use it for cuts and abrasions to prevent infection by the flesh eating bacteria indigenous to the desert sands.
Yllera increased speed as she drew nearer to the micro-oasis. It was a mistake. In her haste she missed the glint of a nearly invisible monofilament trip wire laced between two small hillocks. It didn’t give when she caught her left foot beneath it. She was tumbling head first towards the plants. She tucked her chin and turned it into a somersault. Though in the act of rotating, Yllera couldn’t deny that it seemed like the plants were arranged in rows. She came to her feet at the end of her roll, but the sudden slope left her overbalanced and she began to fall forward again. Before her face plowed into the dirt and she could process the thought of the plants being purposefully placed, a large hand stopped her fall by fastening around the back of her neck. She tried to turn to thank whomever it was but another hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled it
uncomfortably around her back.
“Nehumabshay zantgoneer eyef tay nemekmindcas gotheen con tazealtum neer littice!” A male voice full of malice growled loudly in her ear. Yllera sensed from him the immanence of her death, with her free hand she thought to pull her emergency evacuation activator. He must have sensed her because his neck hand quickly caught and secured her free hand behind her back, “Zantgoneer!” His word came with a painful jerk.
“I don’t speak Tanerian!” Yllera blurted in pain, “May nemekwurd ab. . . abshazeumwurd! I don’t speak Tanerian!”
“Humanspeak? You don’t smell human you smell like a breeder!” The man growled in stilted English. Telepathically he radiated clear mistrust, “I say do not move if you do not wish to meet your death on this day!” He hadn’t gotten any gentler especially as he managed to contain both of her wrists with one hand just long enough to use his other to wrap some kind of restraint around both of them it was thin and strong, feeling very much like the trip wire.
Yllera sucked in her breath. The tight restraint would probably have cut into her wrists, if they weren’t protected by the survival suit.
“I think there has been some sort of misunderstanding.”
The man growled and pushed her into a seated position. “Close mouth! Breeder!” He carefully circled around in front of her and quickly lassoed her ankles. A filter mask was fastened in the down position on the hood, so it covered only his chin, probably to aid in communication. His eyes, nose and most of his forehead were still covered and obscured by a reflective eye mask.
It was the second time he’d used the word “breeder” she suddenly realized he must think she was a fertile Tanerian female.
“I’m Agurian!”
“And I am a jewelbird’s dropping!” A woman shouted from nearby, in much clearer English.
The situation was serious, Yllera had missed not one but two people hiding in plain desert. The insecurities that brought to the surface made her next words fall flat, “I’m Agurian.”
“Prove it!” The hostile female growled.
The aggressive man with the big hands glared over Yllera’s head, probably at the woman. “How is the strange-woman supposed to prove. She cannot shift herself into anything. Even you Nelimu cannot do that.”
“I won’t have her here if she is some kind of royalist spy! She has to prove she has our blood!” The woman shouted and kicked dirt at Yllera’s back.
“Would you be satisfied if she proves she is not Tanerian?” The man asked.
“How do you propose?” The woman kicked up more dust as she moved to join the man. Yllera could see little of either of their faces because of their survival suits. The woman had similarly opened her filter mask though it dangled from a strap attached to her hood somewhere in the vicinity of her left ear.
“Go get flask,” the man grunted.
“Zantum sheiae!” The woman growled back.
“You are not a breeder either! She smells of a breeder. You can smell it. Get the flask and we shall know!”
“If she can do a shot and live, she can come with us, at least as far as the seer.” The woman, Nelimu ducked left around a dune out of Yllera’s sight.
With the absence of the woman Yllera felt safe to speak again, “Flask of what? Poison?”
“Only if you are a breeder spy!” Nelimu growled returning with a small brown flask. The woman opened Yllera’s filter mask and the flask, before shoving the flask in Yllera’s face. The smell of fermentation was strong. Suddenly, Yllera understood. It was alcohol they were going to test her with a shot of some kind of homebrew. Though it wasn’t necessary if she had been a Tanerian she would’ve passed into a toxic reaction by now. “Drink!”
Yllera complied, half because Nelimu had shoved the opening into her mouth and began pouring. Yllera swallowed quickly but far more than a shot poured down her front. Nelimu clearly wanted her dead if the woman really thought her a breeding Tanerian.
“Nelimu, enough!” The man had an almost satisfied expression on his face, “She is no breeder! She has our blood.”
“Uohvu, I am not sure of that and will wait for the seer’s determination.” Nelimu went back around the dune and retrieved two small packs. She replaced the flask in a compartment of one and slung it over her shoulder. “Are we to carry her? Or will you untie her feet? No, wait perhaps we drag her!” Nelimu’s face showed far too much pleasure of the idea of dragging Yllera across the potentially deadly earth. Yllera got the idea that perhaps Nelimu was jealous of any interaction between Yllera and Uohvu. Perhaps there was a pairbond there.
“I will untie her,” Uohvu said as he released both Yllera’s ankles and wrists from their bonds, apparently the alcohol test had been enough for him. Frankly it had been more than enough for Yllera, the brew had been strong enough to make her more than a little tipsy.
Still Yllera was alert enough to register Nelimu’s definite displeasure at the sight of Uohvu completely freeing her. “Regomiind mazeabhay! Mazetazeumpulm!”
“Premekwurd mazeabshay! Mazepulm netazepulm! Dohbay ticepask may mekwurd mazeabshay?” Uhovu replied heatedly, “Get up strange-woman!” He jerked Yllera
to her feet by her arm. Nelimu stood stunned almost in tears.
Uncaring about any consequences to herself Yllera felt pushed to Nelimu’s defense by the woman’s pain, “What did you say to her?”
“Not business of you!”
Uohvu growled shoving Yllera down dune.
Yllera dug in her heels and held her ground, “I don’t speak Tanerian, but I can tell you hurt her with whatever you said. And I’m not going anywhere until you explain yourself and or apologize.” Part of her briefing came back to her, “Pulm is heart, I remember that much from my teacher, pulm - pulmonary - heart! You said something about her heart. Ne- not, taze - your? -
heart! She must’ve been laying claim to you and you told her not to.”
Uohvu, looked at Yllera with threatening eyes,
“If you don’t speak Tanerian then how you know she is not in dark mood because I would not let her kill you and take your heart!”
Yllera felt a chill go up her spine, that idea hadn’t occurred to her, she shivered despite the heat, “If she wants my heart she can have it, but if you hurt her because you want me for a mate then apologize because I’m not going to date someone else’s promised one!”
Uohvu growled and snatched a pack from Nelimu. The woman smiled, “Keep your heart it is too big for me! You were correct; you speak good Tanerian for someone professing not to.”
“Really I don’t, I maybe understand a few words, just what stuck in my head during my briefing, I wasn’t sent her to make nice with the Tanerians.”
“You were sent here! So you are a spy!” Uohvu stiffened noticeably.
“I’m not a spy! I’m a factor! I’m here to open relations with your people,” Yllera hurried to reply.
Nelimu flashed a wary eye in Yllera’s direction, “Factors? Who are they? Another name for catalysts?” Nelimu
>
s English was definitely better than Uohvu’s. “I told you we couldn’t trust her” Nelimu pulled a dagger from her pack.
The bared blade made Yllera freshly aware of her peril, “No, they aren’t catalysts, though they do pretty much the same job they aren’t affiliated with any galactic council.”
“I bet they’re mostly Tanerian!” Nelimu said making a show of checking the edge of the blade.
“No, actually they’re mostly briaunti or human. Right now I can’t think of the name of a single Tanerian factor. “ Yllera kept her feet firmly placed but inched her hand towards her emergency return activator hanging from a zipper on her left thigh.
Nelimu threw her knife down “I bet the Tanerians are in charge. You can’t expect me to believe otherwise!”
Uohvu held up his hands. “Let her talk!”
“The factors were founded by briaunti, and most of the best are briaunti. The chief factor is a briaunti. Most of the leadership are. In the support staff there might be a couple of Tanerian department heads. . .”
“See!” Nelimu reached for her dagger where it stood handle up blade buried in the sand.