Chapter 14

This is crazy, I’m not a hero, what am I doing out here…

Oh right, I’m keeping Kristyl out of trouble…

Or company…

Or both…

Vasiht’h hunkered against the winds, his side bumping against Kristyl’s hip as they slogged down the path toward the trees where, if their scanner was correct, at least one person was hidden.

Or maybe it’s that I didn’t want to be left alone in there, thinking about how wrong everything can still go, or looking at everyone else and thinking about everything they’ve lost… He glanced at the human, eyes almost completely closed thanks to the rain. He hadn’t asked about Gladiolus. He hadn’t had to. If the Asanii had been among the rescued, she would have been at Kristyl’s side already.

Vasiht’h didn’t have to ask to know why Kristyl was out here.

The human pulled on his arm and pointed, which was easier than shouting through the wind. Vasiht’h nodded and followed her.

Anseahla had storms. The world tended toward wet and tempestuous, and the band where most of the Glaseah lived was semi-tropical, with rainy and dry seasons and all the riotous growth inspired by the heat and humidity. No stations finessed the weather, though when dangerous storms spun up over the oceans, they were dispersed. Vasiht’h didn’t know how that technology worked; it struck him as a terrible omission, that lack of comprehension of something so crucial. If he knew, then someone here would know, and would be doing it to the storm heading their way.

Magical thinking, but what was left to him? Faith, certainly. But faith was a form of magic, one that kept you going when hope was having a panic attack.

Vasiht’h had been caught out in storms, particularly as a child, pelt-drenched and chased home by thunder’s warning whipcracks. He’d thought he’d known storms. Had patted himself on the back for it, even.

The Goddess had a way of teaching the hard-headed. Usually involving sledgehammers. Which is what this wind felt like, when it gusted… like a wall smashing against him. These were only the hurricane’s warning blows, promises of the gales to come. They drove the water against his face and side until his skin was sore with it, and he wondered if he’d bruise under the fur.

His sole consolation was that as a short heavyworlder with four legs that ended in clawed toes, he had an easier time staying planted than Kristyl, which is why he kept himself between her and the winds.

They reached the questionable shelter of the trees, which were bending so far over Vasiht’h wondered why they hadn’t snapped yet, and began their search for the blip on their scanner. They’d been scouring their quadrant for nearly half an hour now, because the resort staffer had warned them that some people might not show on the scans for any number of technical reasons; Vasiht’h had stopped listening the moment the first had been ‘they might be unconscious.’ He suspected the staffer had stopped himself from saying ‘they might be dead.’ But they’d found no one, and Vasiht’h desperately hoped it was because there’d been no one to find, and not that they’d missed someone.

But they didn’t miss this person. Kristyl got onto her hands and knees and looked under a rock and found a small Hinichi toddler. She had to pull the boy out by herself, because Vasiht’h couldn’t lower himself easily, and the child himself had passed out. Injury? Fear? Exhaustion? He didn’t know, but the boy was a light burden.

Kristyl checked the scanner, then the timer. She pointed at the countdown and yelled, “Go on?”

Vasiht’h glanced at it. They had less than fifteen minutes, but they hadn’t finished their search area. “Yes,” he shouted back, and they continued on.

They found no one else. They also didn’t complete their canvass before they were called back. As Vasiht’h hurried after Kristyl, he wondered if he would carry the guilt of that unfinished search all his life, or if it would fade with time, or perspective. Would he look back one day and realize he couldn’t hold himself responsible for every person the storm claimed? That it was hubris to think there had to have been anyone left for him to find, just because he hadn’t stayed to make sure? Or would he come to believe that he’d given up too soon, and a real hero would have sacrificed himself to be certain?

At the moment, he was too tired to care, which was itself a revelation. That exhaustion could pull the plug on unproductive negative emotions, as well as positive ones. And they had found one person. He stared down into the face of the boy he was still clutching, and hoped to Her Heaven that his parents were waiting for him.

As it was, he and Kristyl were among the last of the teams to return, and the wind was buffeting their backs when they entered, water sleeting off them to pool around their bodies. Vasiht’h handed over the child and accepted a towel, which he set around Kristyl’s shoulders before propelling her toward the drier inner sanctuary. The second towel he used on himself before fetching a cup of hot tea for both of them. The genies weren’t functional on emergency power, but kettles were, and tea bags needed no fancy technology.

“Thanks,” Kristyl said. He hadn’t missed her eager scanning of the crowd when they’d first arrived. She sipped, her enthusiasm drained.

Vasiht’h sat next to her, his wet tail flopped over his also wet paws. Now that they were no longer outside fighting the elements, he felt the ache of his side and the broken wing badly, and shifted several times seeking a more comfortable position.

“Did you take a painkiller?” Kristyl asked, rousing from her despondency.

“You know, I didn’t think of it?”

Her smile was crooked. “I’ll get you something.”

Vasiht’h didn’t know if he wanted something for the pain, but he let her go because he could tell she needed to do something to keep from coming apart. He knew the feeling, because he was right there with her, breathing around a chest too small and tight for all the feelings he wasn’t examining. He waited for Kristyl, counting breaths, and swept his gaze over the group, which had grown larger but not large enough. Not to account for all the people who must be missing.

But at the back of the room, near the hall to the restrooms, he saw Keridwen in Bodken’s arms.

When Kristyl returned she found him sniffling, and she left again to get tissues. Handing them over, she put an arm around his shoulders.

“Your Seersa couple found one another again,” Vasiht’h told her.

“Just like we’ll find our other halves,” Kristyl said. “You’ll see.”

Vasiht’h wiped his eyes. He knew he’d see Jahir again, barring some fresh catastrophe: he’d found his way out of the sea and to shelter, and the storm would be bad but it would pass and this would be over. He would get off Tsera Nova, and Jahir would be waiting for him on the station, and years from now… no, they wouldn’t laugh about it years from now. But they’d look back on it and say, ‘Well, that happened and it’s over, aren’t you glad.’

But Kristyl…

“Maybe we should organize a game to keep people’s minds off the storm.”

The human looked away. “I don’t think most of the people here feel like playing.”

“Maybe not. But is sitting here staring at the satellite feed any better?” When she didn’t answer, Vasiht’h said, “I knew these girls. Know them. I know these girls.” He paused. “Strange to realize I still know them, when I’ve been so used to thinking of them in the past tense.”

Kristyl was staring at him now, one brow lifted. “All right. You got me with that opening. You knew some girls that you know and that confuses you? It confuses me too, so rock on?”

Vasiht’h managed a laugh. “You remember my partner the Eldritch.”

She smiled, a little. “Who could forget.”

“I met him in a hospital parking lot, where I was letting six of its residents teach me to jump rope. Girls. Children.”

Kristyl grimaced. “So this is a story about how things could be worse, and we have to buck up like the brave sick children and focus on the good things in life.”

Vasiht’h paused. “Yes? And no?”

She chuckled. “There you go again. Confusing yourself, and me.”

“But you want to hear about how they taught him to jump rope too, and how that led to us being friends?”

Kristyl hugged her knees. “It’s got an Eldritch in it, and cute kids. All you need is a kitten or a puppy and you’re golden.”

“No kittens or puppies,” Vasiht’h said. “But there is a dog, much much later.”

“I’m all ears.”

So Vasiht’h talked. They had time, and very little to do, and maybe there was a moral in the story but he didn’t linger on it because he honestly wasn’t sure what it was. That he’d thought of the girls because they would have faced this situation with courage and more equanimity that most adults was obvious to him, but he didn’t think using them to illustrate the importance of those things would work. Would ever work. People weren’t always in the right place to hear what they needed to hear, and beating the message into them didn’t change that. Everyone’s instinctive reaction was to stiffen up, armoring themselves against the blows. In the hierarchy of importance, defending yourself came way before listening, and the kind of introspection that prompted change.

Vasiht’h didn’t tell her about the girls to teach her anything. He told her because he needed to hear it himself.

“So these kids are teens now,” Kristyl said. By now they’d moved to a quieter corner of the room, and the human had found them a bag of trail mix. “And one of them’s still too sick to leave the hospital? That’s rough. But they’re starting a business!”

“A charity.” Vasiht’h hunted through the nuts and seeds for more of the dried banana chips. “They’re not trying to make a profit. Just help other people.”

“I’m impressed,” Kristyl said. “I wonder if they need backers. Nieve’s Girls, you said. I’ll remember that.” She popped a few sunflower seeds in her mouth, chewed, contemplated. “And two of them are human.”

“Humans do do great things,” Vasiht’h pointed out.

“When they don’t make mistakes.” She smiled lopsidedly.

“This isn’t your fault.”

Kristyl sighed. “I know. It’s just reflex to think ‘yet another thing we got wrong.’ Shows you how pervasive the narrative is. Besides, we might have gotten something disastrously wrong here, but…” She jerked her chin toward the projection of the storm. “We planned for the disaster. We’ve got power, feeds, and access because the same people who designed the climate control protocols insisted that everything on the ground be able to resist the planet’s natural weather anyway. Even the fact that the Pads aren’t working was a planned failsafe, because violent atmospheric changes can make Pads unstable.”

“So they were planning for their own failure?”

“They were covering all the bases,” Kristyl said. “Because sometimes… bad things happen, and you can’t stop them from happening.” She shuddered a moment, hand flexing. “Anyway. We haven’t gotten to the dog yet. Tell me that part.”

“Right. That’s got a human in it too.” Vasiht’h grinned. “Don’t worry. He’s got a redemption arc.”

She snorted. “Oh does he.”

“So do I,” Vasiht’h said, which made her eye him speculatively. He grinned wearily and launched into the story of how he and Jahir won their practice on Starbase Veta. That took them into the evening, because she insisted on stopping him frequently with questions, and by the end of it she was lying on her back on the floor, one hand on her chest.

“That was ridiculous.”

“Really?”

“And completely implausible,” she continued. “That a mysterious Hinichi just happened to be ready to retire and she just happened to be a therapist and she just happened to meet you all and decide to put you through your fairy tale Three Challenges in order to prove yourselves worthy of her gift? Really?” She lifted her head to squint at him. “You’re kidding about all of it.”

“Not at all,” Vasiht’h said, amused.

Kristyl sat up slowly and eyed him. “Did anything like this happen to you before you met your magical partner I’ve not yet seen with my eyes to make sure he’s real?”

“No…?” Vasiht’h drew the word out. “But it might not just be about him. It might be that… before him, I took fewer chances?” He stopped, struck by the rightness of it. “Oh. Before him, I took fewer chances.”

“Gladdie used to say the same thing to me,” Kristyl said, softly. “Now she’s taken one chance too many.”

Vasiht’h reached over and hugged her, and the human turned her face into his shoulder and rested against him, and didn’t cry. But Vasiht’h could sense the tension in her that was her desire to do so, and her refusal. Which was fine, because everyone dealt with crises in their own way, and if she wanted to not cry, he wasn’t going to prod her until she did.

“Well!” Kristyl said. “Looks like we’ve got most of a day to wait through. It’s time to organize a game!”