The four of them—Kaley, Mecca, Ronika and Awichin—travelled to many cultural places of interest. Hotel Clio was central to a number of attractions, not just the botanical gardens, though they were easily Kaley’s favourite.
They zipped up to the observation deck of Ning Tower, which Kaley’s specs informed her was the tallest building on Femme. Her specs displayed the height at 848 metres, but she didn’t know if it was taller than everything on Earth or not. Her specs didn’t offer world knowledge beyond Femme and Ronika didn’t seem to know. Kaley made a big deal out of Ronika not knowing something, which made the other girl laugh.
Mecca was uncomfortable with the height and wouldn’t join them at the window when Awichin first prompted then teased him. Mecca looked pale and nervous when Kaley asked him if he was okay. Perhaps he thought she’d order him to join them. She instructed him to remain where he was and he smiled his thanks. She understood why he continued calling her mistress while they were out but it reminded her that there was something unresolved between them.
They were so high up that Kaley could see the curvature of the world. The city below them seemed insignificant and it was only now that she realised how empty the skies were. Oh, there were the hover-cars, which were like miniature personal jets, but they only belonged to Femme police and there were only a few of them flying around. Ronika explained that they only flew somewhere when they had to be somewhere fast, which wasn’t often.
She could see the river snaking away from the city on the south and the mountains on the south east. Somewhere halfway up that mountain was Winhao, where she’d had a lovely meal with everyone and where she’d offended the other girls with her higher values. Thinking about the confrontation she’d had with Charlotte this morning made her angry now, rather than upset. She swallowed the memory and it stuck in her throat. Mecca helped wash it down by offering her an anxious smile and in her compassion for his fears, she forgot about her indignation.
“Come on, let’s rescue this wuss,” she said playfully. He didn’t say anything until they were in the elevator screaming down at a gut-churning rate—which he seemed fine with.
“What is ‘wuss’?”
“Pikoro,” Awichin said, prompting Mecca to mock offence. Kaley didn’t know what a pikoro was, but it certainly got the right response from him. When Mecca looked at her she gave him a wink to show she was only joking and was energised by his return smile. The tension between them seemed to be over.
They hopped on a glide-train and visited the Shinuri River. Before getting on one of the watercrafts, Kaley and Ronika had to look into a scanner. It was the first time they’d had to pay for transport. When Kaley questioned it, Ronika explained that they could choose to travel all the way along the river to the wide mouth of the bay and into the sea beyond.
“This doesn’t look big enough to traverse an ocean,” Kaley said in surprise. The boat was barely bigger than the catamarans that her home city used to ferry people up and down and across the river. They certainly weren’t sea-faring vehicles.
“The Narrow Sea is incredibly pacific,” Ronika explained. “The waves are gentle. Nothing dares upset the environmental qualities of Ning,” she said in a way that Kaley thought mocking.
“But it’s not like they can control the weather,” Kaley argued.
“Can’t they?” Ronika said, widening her eyes.
“No!” Kaley insisted, smiling but wanting the joke to end. Ronika smiled back at her but she didn’t confirm or deny the comment. Kaley was getting used to Ronika’s personality and humour.
The boat cruise was relaxing. Finger foods were served and they were invited by a steward to spend their personal credits on some spirited drinks. Kaley realised that his choice of English—Authoritan— words was a mistaken translation for alcohol and not some kind of excitable beverage. She declined, as did Ronika.
Kaley had been assigned two thousand credits to last her the six weeks while she was here as part of the University’s setup. She’d initially wondered how long such an amount would last, but since their breakfast and dinner reservations had been covered by the University and lunch was complimentary via the Clio, she’d found little to spend her credits on. She wanted something quintessentially Femme for herself, just as she’d done for her mother. Perhaps she would buy one of the gowns, though she wasn’t sure even two thousand credits would cover the cost.
They disembarked quite a way upriver and headed for an arts centre that was dedicated for male performers. Evidently this was the kind of thing Awichin was involved with when Ronika was off-world. He played some kind of stringed instrument with special gloves. Ronika described it as being like two harps crossing strings in an X formation, then added whatever Kaley was imagining would likely be wrong but that she would understand why Ronika had described it that way when she saw it. Kaley’s dubious response attracted some laughter and they were light of heart when they all went in.
The shock hit her halfway through the performance. Kaley started replaying the conversation with Charlotte. She began to agonise over her reactions; all the things she should’ve said instead of a dumbfounded ‘what?’ all the things she should’ve done instead of walking away. A burning lump was forming at the base of her throat. It was like all of her rage and insecurity had bundled together into a hot ball and was making it difficult to breathe. She remained in her seat, trying to will it away but she could hear herself drawing deep, loud breaths and she couldn’t stop her hand from reaching up and touching her throat. Peripherally she was aware Mecca was now watching her instead of the performance but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him when trapped in this nightmare of a memory. She stood up and whispered her excuse me’s to woman and man alike as she moved past, not really caring if it was part of the social grace or not. Nobody voiced their disapproval, which was just as well because she wasn’t sure she could take any more.
She escaped into the foyer and then outside into the gardens, where the late afternoon made long shadows. She pressed her hands firmly over her mouth in attempt to hold in her sobs. Thankfully nobody was around because she wasn’t doing such a good job of it. A large leafy tree with a purple trunk was the only thing available to comfort her and she stepped off the path in order to press her forehead against it. It was smooth and papery, like the gum trees that lined the backyard of her mother’s home. She closed her eyes but the smells were too different. This wasn’t Australia, this wasn’t even Earth.
She heard his footsteps on the garden bed before she felt his touch. There was no point resisting when she wanted to be comforted by something more personal than a tree. Mecca held her as she shook in his arms, feeling stupid and vulnerable and safe, all at once. She didn’t understand why she was crying again—she thought she’d cried it all out of herself. Apparently the blow she’d received was worth more than a single sob session. Even breakups hadn’t been so bad. This feeling, this ache in her chest and constriction in her throat… this was something unfamiliar.
She spoke when she was able, though she kept her voice at a whisper.
“I don’t understand why this is happening now.”
He lowered his voice to match hers—it wasn’t a whisper but it was low enough for her to feel his words rumbling in his chest as he spoke.
“You are relaxed so it returns. You are grieving.”
She was grieving? She supposed it was true, she was grieving the loss of her academic pride. It had been so humiliating, to learn the truth that way, thrown in with a handful of other insults including how conceited she was.
“I’ve had to face a hard truth,” she said, feeling better now that she was tucked against him. He was so good for her, it was a shame she couldn’t take him back to Earth.
He tensed and she frowned and looked up at him. His face was turned away, his eyes closed. Her movement caused him to peek at her.
“Femme is full of hard truths,” he said gently, but she could sense there was something more behind the sentiment. They were in public, but nobody was around.
“Tell me what you mean,” she pleaded.
“I cannot.”
“Because it isn’t permitted?”
He shook his head. “Because you will feel differently about me.”
She couldn’t see how. He seemed sad yet his hold on her didn’t waver. His arms were steady at her back, pressing her against him.
“Tell me.”
“Is that an order?” he asked her and she wanted to tell him it wasn’t fair. She’d not yet treated him like a slave. He’d behaved like one but she’d always given him the choice. He didn’t trust her enough to share his fears with her, even though he’d just seen her face her own.
She squirmed in his hold. He immediately released her and she backed up into the tree. She’d forgotten it was behind her. Embarrassed, she turned her head while he remained where he was. She wished he would leave her alone. She didn’t need his rejection too. Again.
“I haven’t given you an order yet,” she said.
“You have not given me a chance, either.”
“You had your chance,” she snapped, her hands flying to her mouth to stop words already spoken. She looked at him anxiously, hoping he wouldn’t resent her.
“A good slave would have followed through,” he told her. “We would be lying in each other’s arms instead of standing here in confrontation.”
She knew already how noble he’d been, she’d apologised to him and thanked him for it—yet there was a nagging part of her that felt like being with him would’ve made it better. It would’ve been more than a band-aid though perhaps not a cure.
“My father was a police officer,” she told him. No doubt Mecca would be confused by the change in topic but to his credit he nodded and listened. “He died when I was very little. I don’t remember him really, except a few vague impressions. He was a giant, big and brave. He was a knight battling the world of dragons.”
“There are dragons on Earth?” Mecca asked, wide-eyed.
“No,” Kaley said, shaking her head with a smile. “Just a child’s fantasy.”
Mecca nodded his understanding and pressed his lips more firmly together, signalling to Kaley that he wouldn’t interrupt again.
“He was already a policeman when he met Mum, but she didn’t find out until the end of their date. He’d rescued her from the drunk guy she’d gone out with and then spent the night out with her instead. I think they were making plans to go out again or something, the story gets a bit hazy in that part when Mum tells it, but she found out he was a cop. A police officer,” she amended, uncertain if Mecca knew slang. “She told him that she couldn’t be romantically involved with a police officer, because she didn’t want that kind of anxiety in her life.
“They kept bumping into one another after that—turns out they had mutual friends—and even though she didn’t want to be involved with him, they’d find a corner and talk the night away, even if they’d gone to the party or dinner with different people.” Kaley was smiling as she told the story. “Anyway, he won her over and a couple of years later they got married. Then I came along a year after that.
“When I was about two, he was killed in the line of duty. Some domestic disturbance on a farm where the guy had a rifle. He didn’t actually shoot my father with it, he was hit in the head with the butt of it and died in the hospital the next day.” Kaley didn’t always feel the weight of the tragedy when she re-told this story—something she didn’t share often—but she could feel it pressing on her heart now.
“So Mum’s worst fear was realised. The man she loved died and she had to look after me alone. But do you know what she tells me? Every time she can bring herself to talk about it?” Kaley paused but she wasn’t expecting an answer. Mecca made an inquisitive sound as a prompt. “She tells me it was worth it. Every second that they had was worth it and the only regret she had was missing out on the few months that he was pursuing her because they could’ve spent it together. She’s told me not to be afraid, not to push anyone away because the relationship could be messy. She said I’d know when someone was right for me.”
Mecca was silent and Kaley let him think it over. It was because he’d refused her earlier that she felt confident to tell him this now. His refusal had taken great strength and courage, because she’d been emotional and he’d trusted her not to over-react and report him. They’d only had a short time together, but he already knew her better than some people who’d known her for years.
“I am right for you,” he told her. Gooseflesh broke out on her arms. There was a buoying moment when everything felt like it was rising within her, sweet and delicious. She was cake. “But I am no police officer.”
She found his words so effervescent that she laughed and bumped her head against the trunk of the tree at her back. She could feel her hairstyle shifting, but when she ducked and stepped away, it stayed correctly on her head. Mecca took the opportunity to pull her against him once more. He was a fan of the embrace, this one. She was grinning up at him, but not so lost in her merry thoughts as to overlook his stern expression. Her joy faltered into uncertainty.
“If I tell you, it will change things between us.”
He was adamant that her knowledge of ‘Femme truths’ would redirect her feelings for him. She didn’t understand the warning, but there was no doubt about the profundity.
“Is it a secret?” she asked.
“Not to those on Femme, no,” he said. “Not to the Authorities either,” he added, which made her more curious. What did the Authorities have to do with how she saw Mecca? Was he some kind of spy for them? “You’re worried,” he told her.
“Of course I’m worried,” she said. “You’re not making any sense. Just tell me.”
He took in a long, controlled breath and kissed her on the forehead. Her heart began to accelerate. This was starting to feel very wrong.
“I’m a low-caste Wanderer. Just enough blood to keep me away from Authority conscription, not enough to make me an attendant to the Round.”
He looked at her meaningfully, like his words were so dreadfully important and she didn’t understand them in the slightest.
“What’s a low-caste Wanderer?” she asked and his look of surprise would’ve been funny if the situation wasn’t so horrible. She hated not understanding something when it was being explained to her. This was different to the selective ignorance Charlotte had accused her of this morning. Had it really only been a few hours ago?
“A Wanderer can travel worlds without the Authority portal.”
“What? How?” she asked. Footsteps caused them both to look at an older man dressed in the performing centre’s uniform walking past them on the path. He glanced over at them but didn’t question their reason for standing in the garden. If Mecca had been by himself, Kaley was sure he would’ve been told off.
“Here’s not the best place. I’ll tell you tonight, at the suite.”
She didn’t want to wait that long. She had many questions to ask already and likely would have hundreds by the time they had the chance to talk it over.
The most pressing thing was; if he was a low-caste Wanderer that could move worlds without using the portal, why was he still here on Femme, living as a slave?