TAMO’L
Full tide had come in on Kuivahr, and the sanctuary domes were submerged. Tamo’l turned the mutable window walls transparent so everyone could watch the aquatic life in the rich, shallow sea. Strands of chained plankton and kelp nodules dangled from above, while crustaceans, fish, and wriggly sea creatures drifted among them. It made for a peaceful dinner environment.
One of the largest chambers in the main sanctuary dome was also a communal gathering place. When the misbreeds came to dine together, some were ashamed at their appearance, and others could barely move, but Tamo’l welcomed them all nevertheless. She assured the refugees that they were not merely perplexing specimens or distorted genetic jokes. She took the time to know every one of them, to understand not just their maladies, but their personalities as well. She wanted to ease their depression and personal misery, not just their physical pain.
For nearly two years now she had made a practice of joining the misbreeds for a daily meal. Attendance was not mandatory. Some misbreeds had such awkward and unsettling digestive requirements that they preferred to eat in privacy. Some huddled in their quarters, wrapping themselves in personal aches, living because Tamo’l gave them a reason to live, but waiting to die even so.
Staffed by attender kith, the kitchens prepared a diverse menu from pureed fish and weed gruel to raw shellfish to simple nutrient fluids to whole invertebrates. Each meal was specially prepared for individual patients to balance their nutritional and medicinal needs.
Tamo’l sat with the gathered misbreeds as bowls and platters were passed around, and everyone knew exactly who consumed what. Tamo’l had her own meal of fresh fish accompanied by stewed kelp flowers.
Beside her, a misbreed named Alaa’kh hunched forward, lifted a too-flexible arm, and tilted a bowl so that the runny gruel could pour down into a gaping mouth that had no chewing apparatus; the gruel simply trickled into his digestive system. Another misbreed down the table lifted a dark cloth to make a tent in front of her mouth as she consumed bones and scales and fish heads. More functional than some of the others, Gor’ka and Har’lc helped to serve their comrades.
Outside the curved transparent dome, a spiderlike crustacean lumbered along the muddy seafloor, one knobby leg at a time. It was half the size of a shuttle, but innocuous as it munched on drifting kelp nodules.
The misbreeds at the table discussed news they had heard, messages delivered by Solar Navy supply ships. Through the thism, they had sensed the terrible attack on the Hiltos shrine and the massacre of lens kithmen in Mijistra. They talked about the Shana Rei, expressing their desire to help fight the creatures of darkness.
“What chance do we have?” asked Alaa’kh.
“All misbreeds exist because of the breeding program,” Har’lc pointed out. “The Dobro Designate experimented with us, trying to come up with someone who could help the Ildiran race. We might all have some purpose—we just need to find it.”
“But we were bred as a hope against the hydrogues,” said Gor’ka. “None of us was born to stand against the shadows.”
“Maybe we have abilities they don’t know about,” said Alaa’kh.
Tamo’l nodded, encouraged the discussion. “That’s why I want each one of you to reach your potential. I believe every single misbreed is special in some way, but we can’t identify how if we don’t look for it.”
She had established this outpost on Kuivahr to be a refuge, yes, but she was convinced that at least some of these chaotic genetic combinations had an unusual inner worth. Regardless, she considered each of them valuable in their own right. If only she could keep them alive … if only she could make them healthy.
Shawn Fennis and Chiar’h joined the meal, but the two spent most of the time caught up in each other’s company. The human male and Ildiran female were an odd couple, married on Dobro and volunteering to work with the misbreeds without reservation. Now, as Tamo’l listened to their excited conversation, she heard Fennis and Chiar’h discuss remarkable test results from one of the new kelp distillates brought over by Zhett and Kristof Kellum. The two had run chemical comparisons, using volunteer misbreed patients.
Tamo’l caught their attention. “Encouraging results among the new extracts?” The attentive misbreeds looked up from their various foods.
The two glanced at each other, caught in their conversation. Fennis blushed red, a human display of embarrassment much like the color-infused lobes of a skilled rememberer telling a dramatic story. Chiar’h reported, “We tested all the new variants on our misbreeds and found some marginal successes that could be nothing more than a placebo effect.”
Fennis chimed in, “But we didn’t stop there. You asked us to look into Prince Reynald’s illness as well. We do have all of his records here.”
Tamo’l caught a breath. “Yes, of course! Osira’h very much wanted us to help him, but I didn’t think—”
Fennis blurted out, “One of the kelp extracts seems to have a strong effect on the microfungus that afflicts the Prince. It could be the basis for an effective treatment—not a cure, but sufficient to dampen symptoms, perhaps repair some of the neural damage.”
Chiar’h’s well-sculpted features made her look out of place among the scrambled misbreeds. “We cannot know unless we test him directly, of course.”
“My priority is to tend to these misbreeds, but if we can help anyone—especially the son of the Confederation’s leaders,” then she added more quietly, “especially a close friend of my sister’s, then we will do so.”
Smiling to herself, Tamo’l took another bite of her savory fish. The misbreeds in the dining chamber seemed genuinely happy to hear of a promising treatment, even one for Reynald of Theroc, glad to know that something might help another person who was suffering, whether it be the Confederation’s Prince, or a misshapen lump of limbs and poorly connected organs.
Tamo’l had attempted to contact Tom Rom, telling him she had more records to share, but so far he had not responded to her communication. Now, even more important, she would send a message to Ildira. Osira’h would certainly want to know about the possible treatment for her friend.