The first thing I remember is wondering why I was locked in a bathroom. I didn’t need to use it.
There was a mirror on the medicine cabinet. That’s when I knew who I was – Valentin.
There was a datapad on the lid of the toilet. I picked it up. A handwritten note was sitting on top of it. It said, “This contains all the information you’ll need. Good luck – Mickey.”
I called up the file and ran my eyes over the contents. It took under a minute. Then I reviewed my memory of what I had just seen. The technical information was clear, but it seemed to be intended for people named Ari and Aran. I wondered if there had been some mistake.
But then a voice in my head said, I’m Ari. Aran and Manasseh are here, too.
You’re probably locked in that bathroom, said Aran, as a precaution in case Ari was the one emanated. Because he had never seen Tara before, they may have feared a repeat of the fiasco at my birth. Their fears were groundless, at least as far as Ari was concerned. Tara just can’t be the first thing we ever see. However, as it turns out, their caution was quite fortuitous for you.
When he said the word Tara, a string of fire snapped through my spine. Here, said Manasseh. Look.
Manasseh’s memories. Manasseh’s memories of when she…it’s suddenly hot in this little bathroom. No. My skin is flushed. Vasocongestion, symptomatic of human sexual arousal. But unlike a human male, my sexual arousal is subsidiary. To tie her to my reproductive cycle is an efficiency, almost an afterthought. Without her as my foothold, my ability to straddle the world of animal and plant will crumble. I will fall into madness. Without her, I cannot be.
We were without her, said Ari. Manasseh had amnesia, so I protected him from knowing what was wrong.
I understand the implications exactly. Ari is a hero, almost godlike in his stature. Also, by the standards understood by our people, Ari is quite insane.
The message was left for Ari and Aran, I said. Terrans have attacked a place called Dalgherdia and Mickey wants you to deal with it. He leaves quite detailed and intelligent instructions and advice.
Mickey, said Aran. The head of Skarsian Secret Operations. One of the Atlas emanations.
Mickey is my brother.
That’s important, said Ari. Taking into account what happened to Aran, it seems that control over the emanations switches between Atlas and Goliath depending on proximity. Which means that if we stay on Dalgherdia, we’ll stay in control.
I reviewed Aran’s memory for information about the Atlas Tree. I believe I understood Ari’s implication. It made me uncomfortable. You don’t intend to return from Dalgherdia, I said. You intend to have us keep possession of this physical form.
Of course.
But the Atlas emanations trusted us.
Given the situation, they had to trust us. Do you think we’d have ever been allowed to emanate again if it weren’t the case?
They tried to contact us, though, said Manasseh.
Ari and Aran seemed surprised. Manasseh showed us the memory.
That’s disturbing, said Aran. Really disturbing. It’s like we were dead.
Closer to comatose, I said. It does seem that Chase sincerely wanted to help.
Of course he did, said Manasseh. He’s my brother.
None of that matters, said Ari. Look at what Aran remembers. They left Tara alone for two years. Can we afford to leave her in the hands of such incompetence?
I have my reservations that we’d do any better, said Aran.
What if the Mover – Ashtara – went to Goliath in Eden because he specifically wanted to start over? Consider the images of Atlas that Aran accessed through the communications net.
We considered. Atlas was a monstrous, twisted tree. It clung perilously to a mountain which was quickly becoming dwarfed by the size of it. Thick roots jutted inelegantly out of rock. Branches hung out over the sea which churned and crashed at the foot of the cliff, some 200 meters below. There was no symmetry – the trunks shoved themselves in any direction the limited space allowed them. The bark was marred by raised and rippled scars where Tommy and Owen had been reattached. The Archon’s trunk towered over the others, all out of proportion. And the thickest, straightest trunk, at the heart of the tree, had been split down the middle, with one side blackened and burned from the force of the explosion which had caused the damage.
Think of Goliath, Ari said, rather smugly.
It was true. Our tree was perfect. Straight, tall, symmetrical, the multiple trunks radiating outward from the enormous center. It dominated the landscape, a completely flat plain, with plenty of room for expansion. Sunlight made the leaves flash iridescent blue, like a butterfly wing, when the wind gently moved them.
None of that matters, said Aran. Do you think for a moment that Tara will give up Ailann? Or Daniel?
I hate them, said Ari.
I was stunned by the bitterness of his words. I would never have considered such a thing. I can understand the circumstantial necessity for self-defense or for pragmatic action that might seem callous. On those grounds, there was a certain logic to what Ari was advocating. But hatred?
I hate Daniel especially, he continued. At the beginning, he was given so much. He had the Cantor to teach him. He had Tara. I had nothing.
But Ari, said Manasseh, he’s my brother.
You’ve never even met him, Ari countered.
But I have met Chase. And you’ve never met either of your brothers, so how can you possibly understand?
Aran looked shocked, and I think I understood why. Manasseh always followed Ari’s lead. This was the first time he had stood up for himself.
There was a knock at the door. “Have you finished yet? Bathrooms do serve a purpose beyond Nau’gsh changing rooms.”
That’s Clive Rivers, said Aran. He’s a prick.
I opened the door. He looked surprised. “Are you Ari? Somehow, I thought you’d be, ah, bigger.”
I put out my hand. “I’m Valentin,” I said.
“Tara!” he yelled. “We have a problem.”
Tara came over. I think she was staring at me for a while. I don’t really remember. She was like a drug, like religion, like being hit in the face with a sandbag, and I stood there, punch drunk, fool-grinning. And then I heard Manasseh saying something, and I found my wooden tongue and made it move. I had never actually said anything aloud before.
“Manasseh said to tell you that if you wanted Aran, you should’ve started with either Ailann or Patrick.”
“You can’t control it?” said Tara. “No, of course not. Because it isn’t a conscious change, just a matter of proximity. So you must be Mickey’s brother.”
“You two can get acquainted,” said Rivers. “Nature calls.”
“Valentin, this was unexpected,” Tara said. Are you certain you’re up for this?”
“I’m up for anything you want,” I said.
“That does seem to be the case,” she said laughing, running her hand across my groin. For a moment, everything froze except – it didn’t freeze with cold, but with heat. Like I was suspended in fire. There was a buzzing in my ears; vasocongestion again. Beneath it, I could vaguely hear excited shouting from the voices in my head.
Tara pulled back. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have…or maybe I should? You are Ashtara’s emanation. The Cantor can go to hell. I’m married to a mothman, not a tree.” She pushed me back against a wall, pressed her lips against mine. For a moment, my arms dangled limply at my sides. But instinct told me what she wanted, and they moved of their own accord, encircling her. It was like embracing sunlight.
“I see you’re getting acquainted,” said Rivers, exiting the bathroom. “Can’t you control yourself for two minutes?”
Tara turned on him, flushed and angry. I stood slumped, my back against the wall, happy, confused and consumed by a desperate need. Things had gotten completely out of hand.
It’s all right, said Ari. Take it easy. She obviously likes you. You’re doing great.
Remember, if one of us wins, we all win, said Manasseh.
“You had better get to work,” Rivers said to me. “You have a lot to learn before you leave for Eden.”
“I’m ready,” I said.
“It’s on the datapad.”
“I’ve already read all the materials on the datapad,” I said.
“Study it. You’ll need to know it by heart.”
“My memory is perfect,” I said. “Unless we lose my branch, in which case, studying won’t make any difference.”
“Ash is just as efficient as a data chip,” said Tara. “Maybe more – no storage limitations.”
“I doubt that,” said Rivers. “You can fit an enormous amount of information on a miniscule chip. His branches are awkward, at best. Anyway, it isn’t enough just to remember. You have to understand it.”
“I understood it perfectly. I mean, Mickey wrote it. It only makes sense that I’d have the potential to understand it.”
“Maybe not,” said Tara. “If I get how this works, you only have half of Mickey’s potential. Another branch gets the rest. Although I suppose it would make sense that the one with the most useful potential would emanate. Not that any of this makes sense.”
“I’m curious,” said Rivers. “Which emanation was your other half?”
“I wasn’t born with that information,” I replied, “but I think I could recognize him. Hold on.” I accessed Aran’s memories again. During the few days he had been emanated, he had done an amazing job of absorbing masses of information from the communications network. It was clear that Rivers did not understand at all. Our memory is exceedingly efficient. Most of the branch is not used for information storage. Most of the branch is used for more mundane things, like circulating nutrients and water.
“Evan,” I said.
“Evan,” Rivers squeaked. “Evan is useless.”
“Fuck you,” said Tara. “Evan is not useless. He’s a poet and a musician.”
“Useless,” Rivers repeated.
“He’s much better in bed than you were.”
Rivers stormed from the room. A moment later, the door slid open. Rivers poked his head through the passage. “I hate automatic doors,” he said. “It’s impossible to slam them in furious indignation.”
*****
I had dinner alone with Tara in our stateroom. The wine was exquisite, but it had been aged the old way, in wooden barrels. I said nothing. I knew that it was traditional for my people to be offended at the use of wood, but it seemed hypocritical to me. I am just as much animal as plant. I might as well be offended at the use of leather. Some humans are. Considering my position, however, if I were to reject both plant and animal products, I’d be reduced to eating synthetic proteins. Manasseh tried some once, stolen from CenGov rations. I’d prefer starvation.
From the sweetness of the wine, I could tell that the grapes must have had a high sugar content and been picked late in the season, probably after the first frost. Which meant the wine was not Dolparessan. There were no frosts on Dolparessa, and certainly not on broiling hot Sideria. Volparnu, on the other hand, was nothing but permafrost. Grapes grew only in hydroponic facilities. The craftsmanship indicated a legacy vineyard, not synthesized or mass produced. It had to be from Skarsia. The wood wasn’t oak, though. Chestnut. That meant some of the alcohol would evaporate off, further concentrating the sweetness. Chestnuts had been brought in the genetic banks from Earth when the Five Nations first colonized the Domha’vei, but they were not a popular tree. The only place where chestnuts were grown extensively was the southern continent of Naroveena. And from the minerals I could taste, I determined that the grapes were grown in soil from a class three mountainous region, high in iron, magnesium and trace metals. In Naroveena, that would be the V’Rolbc Range. There’s only one legacy vineyard in the V’Rolbcs. They had an early frost eight years ago, coinciding with the turn of the century – and also with Tara’s marriage to the Atlas Tree.
“This is a centennial ice wine from Laughing Star Estate. It must have cost a fortune.”
“I didn’t know you were a wine expert. I stocked up on it for a special occasion.”
“Your wedding?”
“Honeymoon, actually. The wedding was during the Nau’gsh Festival, so we drank Nau’gsh wine.”
“And so by sharing your wedding wine with me, are you saying that you accept me as your husband, despite the Cantor’s determination to reject Goliath? Does Atlas agree with you?”
Tara took a deep breath, staring for a moment at her flatware. “You’re as clever and observant as Mickey, but you have Evan’s emotional perceptiveness. That makes you a very dangerous man, Valentin. I’ll be honest. Some of the Atlas emanations want to be rid of Goliath. Others have suffered a lot of pain to try to rectify the situation – especially Chase and Jamey. But honestly, what Atlas feels is irrelevant. It’s what Ashtara plans to do.”
She was right. And yet – I didn’t care. Not about Ashtara, or Atlas, or even Ari. “What do you plan to do?”
She got up and circled the table, sliding into my lap. She leaned in, my blood flooding with desire at the ebb and flow of her warm breath against my ear. “I’m going to fuck you into next week,” she said, “so that Ash won’t consider you expendable.”
Far be it from me to dispute such exquisitely constructed reasoning.
*****
Our pleasure complete, we lay quietly side by side for a time. The wine was neither as sweet nor as intoxicating as the fine line of heat where her body pressed against mine. “You’re so much like Mickey,” she said, stroking the bare skin on my chest. “Except you’re even thinner, more like Evan. And you have Evan’s long fingers. Musician’s hands. Can you play an instrument?”
“I’ve never tried. If you desire it of me, I’m certain I’ll be able to do it.”
She laughed, rolling over on top of me. “Valentin, you certainly are agreeable. But where did you get that name? It isn’t Irish, and it isn’t Biblical, like the other Goliath emanations.”
“It’s from a Latin word meaning strength.”
“I thought maybe it was from valentines – that old Earth mating custom. It’s one of the few that were never very popular in the Domha’vei. The Battlequeens of Skarsia and the Heroes of Volparnu would rather beat each other over the head than send flowers.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know why Goliath’s emanations have only one name, either, except perhaps we don’t really need a surname on Eden? On Dolparessa, everyone has a surname, so not having one would’ve drawn attention.”
She paused for a moment. “I wish I understood how Ash thinks.” Her eyes were focused into the distance, longing and perhaps a bit lonely. And I could feel the hand of the Mover within me wanting to call out to her.
I was overwhelmed by sadness. “He’s trying. This is the best he knows how to do.”
She looked up at me suddenly, her red curls spilling forward onto my chest. “I know,” she said. “I’m the one who’s failing. It isn’t Ash’s fault. He emanates perfectly human vessels to communicate with me, but perfectly human is so far from what he is. Doesn’t he ever want a mate of his own species?”
I was blindsided by the question. “What good would that do?” I stammered.
“What good would it do? Well, to be understood! To have a companion.”
“Trees don’t need companions. They need growth. Growth happens through assimilating the unfamiliar – for example, appreciating the beauty of something not like us. But we know that humans are social. We can easily become what you need while getting what we need.”
“Neither the Cu’enmerengi nor the K’ntasari feel that way.”
“The K’ntasari are either human or tree in their season, but never both at once. So their human emanations have human motivations. And the Cu’enmerengi – we don’t take them seriously. They never become very big trees.”
“I hate to think of what Claris would say about that.” She buried her head against my arm, and I knew that my answer had failed to satisfy her. The pain of it was a throbbing ache, but I didn’t know what else to say. I would have done anything to please her. And I knew that on the morrow, I would fly on to Eden, ahead of the fleet, as part of our plan to take the Terrans by surprise. I had only tonight. I didn’t know if I would ever have another night. Maybe I would never emanate again.
That’s why we have to stay in control, said Ari.
It isn’t our choice. It’s the Mover’s choice.
It is our choice! I’ll make it our choice.
Are you mad? You can’t fight the Mover. It’s like fighting God. For us, that’s exactly what it is – fighting God.
I don’t care, said Ari. Is there anything better than this? Anything better than loving her and then having her asleep in our arms? The Mover agrees – he must agree. Why would he care about Atlas if Goliath can bring him this? Nothing else matters. And if he doesn’t agree, then we have to oppose him.