Wednesday

Twenty-Five

Budur has been shaking too much lately – she seems to have taken over the timid personality that Samira shed – so I asked her if I might take her place to guide in the ship. She agreed.

In a very literal sense, guiding a supply ship into port is a headache. I was unable to get out of bed for a day because of the pain. Ihsan stayed with me while the rest of the women – in stony silence, I’m sure – unloaded the ship. Vivien was able to finally get the octopuses to leave the barrels alone, however, so we were able to send our first water shipment off to Earth. Ihsan said the ship navigated itself away, once it felt the final barrel click into place. That hardly seems fair, but I’m sure Breathe Easy has a good reason for a human to land the contraption.

I was finally able to get up and take a look at the supplies. My fellow Gadhavi, Chloe, was taking inventory in the agriculture store room when I walked in. She looked me up and down, something behind her eyes clicking into place enough to speak to me.

“We have more strawberry seedlings than I thought we would,” she finally said. I smiled and nodded, gingerly, in hopes to avoid the strain-caused migraine I’d overcome at last.

“We have some cucumbers as well, more fish and bivalves, and it looks like tube worms,” she continued. “Nothing medicinal, not even an herb. They might have caught on to us about that, so our supplies will be low.” She raised her eyes, and I felt her pupils grinding into my mind. I blinked hard and looked away, feeling the queasiness of migraine returning to my stomach and freezing the tips of my fingers. “If you get sick again, we won’t be able to help you, I think.”

I shrugged as slowly as I could manage. “I am sure I will grow accustomed to piloting the supply shipments, if that is what you mean.”

Chloe nodded, but I could still feel her pupils scraping against the back of my head. She said, voice low and sharp, “You will help us stay on good terms with Breathe Easy, because we cannot afford for these shipments to be disrupted.”

“I know, this is only our first one,” I replied, turning my eyes away from her but trying to raise myself up to my full height. I would not allow her gaze to crush me. “I want this colony to succeed.” It is a diplomatic thing to say on Rabbah these days.

Chloe nodded again, and turned away from me.

The colony seems to be split, unevenly, and I have been trying to hold everything together like a good Gadhavi. It is exhausting. Yuda, Zariah, Vivien, Samira, and Chloe spend as much time together as they can, looking askance at Haven and Budur whenever either woman passes by. Budur and Haven return the glares, and do not speak to any of the women in that group. Meanwhile, Durada, Natsuki, Ihsan, Ghadir, and myself do our best to bridge the communication gap. Durada says that she sympathizes with Samira’s words, but it is none of her concern. Ihsan says that it is why she is glad to be gone from Earth. Natsuki is unsurprised – she is from a long line of Ikin migrant workers, and she said that she sees and understands that treatment. The Ikin, she says, have much the same attitude as the Araboa – they keep themselves separate from the other castes, only interacting with the rest of the world when necessary. However, she says, she has always seen the benefit to her for working for Hou “enslavers,” and she does not plan to stop now. Ghadir has not said much at all – she stays in the kitchen most days, working diligently on our food preservation problem. I suspect because she is taking my lead on the problem.

I took some seeds and began walking toward the garden, when Haven cornered me. “I am glad that you are awake again,” she said, but there was no kindness in her voice, only an edge of desperation. “Budur and I need your help. I am afraid that the colony is falling apart.”

“So is Chloe,” I replied in a voice just too harsh, and I had to lean against the wall to stop the vertigo. I want all of the unintentional factions to understand each other. I could feel the tendrils of migraine creeping up my throat and into my skull, so I tried to smile and took a deep breath. The air smelled a little metallic.

Haven heaved a sigh. “When you next send a missive to Breathe Easy, please ask about the next group of colonists, alright?”

“What do you want me to ask, specifically?”

“Nothing specific, except timing. And please let them know about the criminal talks that have happened here.”

“What if they leave us to die because of our conversations?” I asked. I do not think that would happen, truly, but I needed her reasons.

“They won’t,” Haven insisted. “I think, if they supplement our numbers sooner rather than later, we can put an end to this … outburst. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

So I have sent word to Breathe Easy, but I have yet to receive a reply. The situation here is growing too tense, and I am concerned we may not be able to work together for much longer. Our food reserves are, as ever, just barely enough, and our air filters need replacing. But our octopuses are working with us – we have four more babies that have hatched, which I will name soon – and a few tomatoes finally. We are successful in our own way, I know that we can be of use to Breathe Easy with just a little more assistance, although it might be more useful in the form of supplies rather than people. But whatever the company thinks is best.

Please.

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