Page 15 of Tempting Fate

A new planet. A new start. How would I do the same?

But with my sister already departed, I had to find my own way, and I would not find it by moping.

I picked up my datapad. The screen stared back at me, daring me to delve into all the things I’d never been allowed. So much information, such a wealth of knowledge, a galaxy so vast I feared the weight of it would crush me like an unlucky bug underfoot in the garden.

Not yet.

The plant on the dresser was a delightful variety of tall-leaf I had not seen before, deep green leaves with vivid pink lines fracturing over their surface, and I smiled. My room was small but functional, and this little touch helped.

Someone had hung my picture on the wall, the nebula Shohari had painted all those years ago.

I rested my hand on the datapad, eyes closed. I had to understand everything before I could settle in. Why the sky was a rich shade of yellow, why the dawn was green like honeymint. How the speeders worked and how to fly one.

One year I had been gifted a remote flyer. Our family steward, Kimivha, had brought it to me, an older model his juvenile son had outgrown. But it had a camera. I’d practiced flying it low in my garden. When my parents had been off in the city, I would fly it over the enclave, watching the other residents on its onboard camera. They walked, rode hoverwheels, and when they left the enclave, they flew their speeders out of the tall, impenetrable gates. Every inch of the enclave perimeter was topped with sharp plasmawire loops, and whenever the gates slid open, they hissed and crackled, as if angry to let the residents depart.

I had noted the walls around the village here, much lower but also augmented with their own forcefield. Was this to keep us in, or others out?

Too much. Too much to think about.

Before long, the burn of kalidi worked its ills on my body. As I had the last few days, I brought my hand to my aching length, but kalidi stripped all strength from my limbs.

My hand fell back to the sheet. Why? Why was this happening to me?

Ah. I was no longer confined to my small cottage, a deformed disgrace to be hidden away. My mind spun painfully. I was not kri’ith. Even after two weeks, still it sounded ludicrous. I could sooner believe integrity was not above all or grass was not blue over this.

Yet the grass here was green.

I drifted in a haze, barely aware of the soft whoosh of the door opening.

The stranger, Orukem, stepped over the threshold. A stranger who was to now assist me. “Good morning, Airida. Are you rested?”

Resentment bubbled in my chest, another tight pressure ready to explode. But good etiquette had been trained into me since before my headspines grew in. I sat up as best I could, giving a polite head tilt as I could not bow. “Well enough, thank you.”

She clacked her jaw. “Lie back down, lad. I’m here to help you settle into the village, as well as assist with your kalidi. I know it must be a bit daunting, but everyone here has been where you are, and we know what you’re going through.” She pulled the chair close to the bed and sat. “Will you let me help you?”

“Why is it you?”

“What do you mean?”

I should not spend my energy talking, but I needed to understand. “How do they choose the one who is to help me?”

Orukem tilted her head in understanding. “Most of us take turns being kalidi attendants. There is a strict order, and it was my turn to help the next person who arrived. Whoever is after me on the list will help the next person, and so on. But it will only be me from now on, you don’t have to worry about it changing.”

“I see.” There was a logic to it.

“Let me help you?”

It was acceptable. She was kind, her manner soothing, and kalidi burned with relentless demand. Each relief would bring me closer to the end of it. “Please.”

Orukem chatted about Vadias as she tended to me, as efficient and understanding as Tokki had been. I focused on her words. Spring mornings, descriptions of vast lakes, and talk of events I didn’t understand were all hazy distractions from the pain, and after she’d cleaned up, she left me to rest.

Sleep evaded me, leaving me with my turbulent thoughts. I had to believe Mother and Father truly thought I had a genetic condition, truly believed I needed medication to manage it. Hadn’t they? I should remain grateful to them for allowing me to live on their property, even in the seclusion of my cottage.

The memory of home anchored me. The scent of familiar flowers blew in with a warm gust of wind, carrying the buzzing chiyi with it.

I was alive. I could give thanks for that.

I forced myself out of bed and managed a short shower, though it took longer than it should have done. But I didn’t fall over or need help. I’d take that as a good omen.