Page 4 of Tempting Fate

Profit. Dearest gods. I would have to provide for myself out here, would I not? And what did I know of that?

I still could not believe the depths of Mother’s depravity. An insult to Kri’s ways. I had never known what she’d held over Shohari’s head, that the only reason I had relative freedom in our family grounds was the unceasing loyalty of a sister who refused to have me sent away.

I could no longer trust anything other than the evidence of my eyes, my hands, my logic. Shohari’s resentment made far more sense now. I could understand her desire to reject the truth and find her own, even as I wished she could have found a middle way.

My thoughts swam amongst molasses, and I fought for clarity. “Do you still plan to get a new ship?” My first instinct when she’d mentioned trading in the Dorimisa for something else had been horror. To trade a Sacrificial vessel to an alien facility as if it were mere goods? But even I could see this was an old, outdated ship in need of very expensive maintenance; her suggestion to stop at a shipyard to price it up was logical.

Shohari toyed with the hem of her tunic. “I am thinking about it.”

It had been an honour to contribute to her Sacrifice from home, to help her make the best of her expulsion from Orith in the name of serving our people. But to aid her when she had no intention of going back? It was too much of a heresy. “When you get a new ship, then I will be your analyst.” My first truth, one I found on my own. I tasted it, felt its weight on my tongue, imagined the colours I would choose were I to paint it. “But not while you are on the Dorimisa.”

My sister gave a low hum as she considered, and offered me a small smile. “Then I will miss this hunk of junk.”

As if in confirmation, a rattle echoed from deep in the vents.

My stomach churned, and not with the nausea of withdrawal; just like that, she would end her Sacrifice, severing all connections to Orith—under my encouragement.

Shohari drew her legs onto the sofa and nestled into her lover’s embrace. “It’s not just for you. I love the Dorimisa, but she holds some very bad memories.”

Garrison whispered something, making her headspines twitch.

She snorted a growl. “Fine, there might be a few good ones.”

My sister and her alien lost themselves in banter, and the galley lit up with Garrison’s hearty laughter. Never had I seen this form of camaraderie, and it eased some of the many tensions tugging at me.

Their joy was good. This, too, was a truth. I would paint it in gold, lit up with all shades of reds, perhaps add sparks of white and iridescent purple. My fingers twitched with the need to create, to find the calm in colour, my feelings on canvas, no longer itching under my skin like so many iltji bites.

But their joy was not my own, and my brief happiness turned bittersweet. A planet would at least be more familiar than a ship. “I will be staying on Vadias, sister. It is my choice.”

Uncaring of her answer, I made my slow way back to my room. If I were to find my place as a new Airida in the wider galaxy, Kri forgive me, I needed a new start.

As the days wore on, I grew sick of being told I would be well. I didn’t feel well, not when my hands shook so much I dropped the paintbrush before I’d even picked it up. I didn’t feel well when I emptied my stomach contents into a bucket as my muscles got weaker and weaker, and I spent too much time in bed.

And too much time with the Outsiders. Tokki and Daiytak, I learned, were leaders in their village on Vadias, which was why they had been instrumental in my rescue. They took turns helping me, and though I did not wish to be so dependent, I had no choice but to bear it.

I shuddered to think of the colonies they both had been saved from—and from which, they claimed, they had liberated hundreds more like them. The colonies to which everyone with our genetic condition was sent, the colonies I had always been threatened with unless my sister and I complied.

Fog consumed my mind. There was no energy in my muscles, only the pain of my body learning to cope without medication. The pain and fatigue I was used to were side-effects, they told me, ones which would go away once I’d gotten through the similar effects of withdrawal.

May Kri curse every demon that gave pain breath.

The door whooshed open, both Outsiders—shaa’ith, they called themselves—entering my room. More tea. More of them trying to convince me of their truths, things that turned my world upside down.

“How are you feeling?” Tokki furrowed brows as strangely darkened as mine. His ear ridges were as slender as mine too, as were Daiytak’s.

Not kri’ith. Kri’s children.

Shaa’ith.

Children of the shaa. Hybrids.

I pushed the unwelcome term away. “Surely it would make more sense to obtain a supply of this medicine and make the withdrawal more gradual?” I said, the words coming out in a pleading whine.

“Absolutely not. They are a poison, designed only to harm us. You do not wish this short, brutal withdrawal? A prolonged, miserable one is the only alternative. Better to get it done with.”

It was an easy thing for him to say when it had been many years since he was so afflicted. “Dare I ask if this is the worst of it?” Part of me did not wish to know, but my brain required knowledge, craved understanding.

At the look which passed between my two companions, however, I perhaps wished my mind had remained foggy.