Stellarnet Rebel (5 page)

“Thank you.” He ate the raspberry with an air of reverence, as if he were taking communion. Raising his hand, he touched his fingertips to his forehead and then touched her brow. Without another word, he turned and left her alone in the garden.

Genny didn’t want him to go.

***

Seth wouldn’t answer her calls or her email. Whenever she l’upped his locator, he was unavailable. The location of military personnel wasn’t provided to the general public while they were on duty but Genny couldn’t decide whether he was working triple shifts or blocking her. It was a pain in the ass not knowing if she should feel sorry for him or pissed off.

Her forums were crazy with questions and discussions about Duin, but she couldn’t explain his absence. He wasn’t supposed to be transporting water in a stolen Tikati ship, and the colonel wasn’t supposed to be accepting it. Instead, Genny blogged about Asteria Colony.

“The homeless shelter was too dangerous,” one colonist told her during an interview. “My cousin was killed there, and my mom died waiting for a doctor to regenerate her kidneys. I was offered a sponsored relocation and I took it.”

Another told his story. “One night, during a riot, they started grabbing people and shoving us into blocks. We had no idea where we were going, or what to do when we got there. One guy, I think he died of a heart attack. He started freaking out during the space shift.”

“I thought they were sending us to Mars,” said a woman who had become a minor celebrity on Asteria and changed her ID to
Demona DeViant
. “But they shifted us out here. The block I arrived in was one big room, with a toilet and a sink for, like, fifty people. I made friends with a woman who had her own compartment in another block and we do porn vids.”

Genny was editing the blog post about Demona when she heard Duin’s voice on the other side of her compartment door.

“J’ni, I am here.”

She jumped up from the table to let him in. This time, she did not hesitate as she did in the garden, but threw her arms around him. “You’re all right.”

“I am
mostly
right,” he corrected in a very tired voice. “But I will not be
all
right until Glin is free.”

She let go of him, feeling sheepish. “Of course. I…um… I’m glad you’re back, and… I’m working on another blog post right now. But I want to interview you about the ecological issues on Glin, and maybe get some experts to talk about whether or not the damage is reversible.”

His eyes glided over her hair, the edges of her face, her throat, her eyes and around again in circles, taking in every detail. When she began to feel self-conscious, he grinned like a mad monkey and declared, “I will visit the children until you are done.”

It was strange to Genny how much he liked the children. It wasn’t that Genny disliked them—not like Taya and Wyatt. Kids mystified her. And kind of annoyed her. But Duin was so comfortable and affectionate with them, and seemed to enjoy them, even though they weren’t his, or Glin.

Genny returned to her blog. When the post was finished and the vid uploaded, she l’upped the live feed from Mose’s school to see if Duin was still there.

“Shall I do
The Tempest?
” he asked the children seated in a circle before him. “Or do you want to hear
The Little Lost Eel
again?”

The response was overwhelmingly in favor of the eel.

“As I suspected.” He spoke with exaggerated disappointment. “Are you absolutely certain it shall not be…
O, wonder!
” His voice filled the room. “
How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, that has such people in it!
”

He was met with groans and giggles.

“All right, if I must.” He took a deep breath and began, “Once upon a time, there was a little eel named Glippit.”

Shakespeare could not have delivered a more riveting performance about the trials of an orphaned eel who finds a home. Genny watched until the end of the story, at which point Duin looked directly into the netcam and asked, “Are you available, J’ni?”

How does he know I’m watching?
Activating her own netcam, she tapped
SHINING STAR SCHOOL
in the list of contacts displayed on her tabletop. “Yes, Duin. I’m done.”

“I’ll be right there.” He bid goodbye to each child in turn, and had to extricate himself from a few clinging to his legs. Genny watched Mose walk Duin out the door then she closed the live feed window. Minutes passed, however, and Duin didn’t come in. She l’upped the hall cam.

“It’s bad enough we have to endure these breeder brats eating our food and running up and down the stairwells. He is in here all the time.” Taya was in the hall, yelling at Mose and Duin. “I don’t know what scam you’re pulling, but you can quit the alien act, you earless freak.”

“I assure you, I am truly not human,” said Duin.

“Then go back to your stupid planet.”

“If I return to my world, then I must abandon it to slavery and destruction.”

Genny went out into the hall.

“You!”
Taya turned on her. “You are in violation of the contract. You should be the one moving. You let him in the garden and gave him our food.”

If she didn’t like this sort of attitude in Seth, she was not going to tolerate it in Taya, either. “Duin drinks
tea
. And if I want to give him my share, that’s my business.”

“Tay?” Wyatt stepped out their door, dragging several cases. “Let’s go.”

“We’re moving in with my aunt until we can sell out or trade compartments.” Taya pointed one of her hi-res digital fingernails at Genny. “I should file a formal complaint and make you buy it.”

Taya was full of shit, and Genny made a face she hoped expressed that sentiment. “You’ve been planning to move since we got here.”

“Prove it. If it’s not on an archive, it didn’t happen.” Taya left the block with Wyatt.

Duin’s large eyes looked very sad. “I am disrupting your life again.”

“You’re a pebble, you make ripples.” Genny quoted the statement he made the first day they met.

Mose patted Duin’s arm. “Don’t worry. Some people were a mess before you ever got here.” She returned to the children.

“I think we need to go somewhere you might feel more welcome. And I need a drink.”

Duin followed Genny into the public thoroughfare.

“Does Mose have a viewer log?”

Duin stepped over a puddle of some unidentifiable oily substance. “I don’t know.”

“How did you know I was watching you? Was my name on the wall?”

He swirled his hands in the air and shrugged. “I knew.”

“Are Glin psychic?” He reached for the translator and she explained. “Psychic means you know things beyond the natural input of your senses, you know, sight, sound, touch. Things you should have no way of knowing.”

“No, my assumption was based entirely upon observation. I know how long it takes you to edit a vid and write a blog post, and a sufficient amount of time had passed.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you knew I was watching you.”

“You were very likely finished, but had not come to find me. Your previous actions indicate a strong likelihood that you would check the netcam, see me telling the story, and not want to interrupt.”

Uncanny as it was, he was right again.

Owen was at his favorite wall, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. “You brought your green man for a pint? It’s a good night for it.”

“Is there such a thing as a bad night for it?” Genny asked.

Owen’s lip twisted in amusement, which looked out of place on his hard face. “There’s the truth in that.”

They entered the pub and found a table near the stage, where the musicians were setting up. Using the pub’s menu app, she ordered them both some of the dark beer brewed in the block’s garden area.

“What is
failt?
” Duin asked, pointing to a word on the wall.

“It’s pronounced
fault cha
. It means welcome.”

Duin added it to his translator while Aileen herself brought their drinks. Genny introduced them.

“I’ve been reading about
you
on Genny’s blog,” Aileen said to Duin. “It’s terrible, the trouble on your world. I hope you get it sorted out and it doesn’t drag on for hundreds of years.”

“So do I,” said Duin. He indicated his pint glass. “Thank you for the very
interesting
water. You are very kind.”

“The word is hospitality,” said Aileen, winking at him. “The Irish are nothing if not hospitable, except maybe rebellious.”

“An excellent combination,” said Duin. When Aileen left, he whispered to Genny, “I think there’s something wrong with their water recycling system.”

She laughed. “It’s supposed to look that way. It’s beer. Try it.”

Duin swallowed half the glass in one gulp and declared, “It tastes like stagnant swamp water.”

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to—”
finish it
, she was going to say, but he emptied the glass anyway.

The musicians played mournful “Skibbereen,” followed by the angry “Come Out Ye Black and Tans,” and the rousing rebel song “Rising of the Moon.”

Duin was captivated. “It’s as if they’re singing about Glin.”

Genny linked her blog to the live feed from the pub and tickered from her bracer.
When I was growing up, these were songs from ancient times. They might as well have been fairy tales. But to Duin, they speak to what he and his people live through every

“’Lo, Genny.”

She stopped mid-ticker. “Seth?”

He dragged over an empty chair and sat between her and Duin, setting his pint glass on the table. To Duin, he said, “Why are you here?”

“I am
free
to move about the colony.”

“Which must be nice for you, since your world is all fucked up and everything.”

Duin tilted his head and raised one hairless brow. “As you say. Fucked up. And everything.”

“Does this mean you’ve read my blog?” she asked Seth.

“Yeah, figured I should. Everyone’s talking about it.”

Genny was curious what Seth’s military friends thought of Duin’s presence. “What do they say?”

“They say, ‘Isn’t that the piece of ass who took you to dinner with the Old Man?’ and ‘Why is she pimping the frog?’”

Duin pulled out his translator to l’up
pimping
.

That wasn’t the sort of reply Genny expected to hear, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear any more. Instead, she checked the notifications on her bracer and let the subject drop.

“Hey, Duin, the Little Lost Eel story is very popular. There are already some net-toons and fanvids. Mose says you should set up an account for the units.”

“Units?” Duin echoed.

She clarified. “MUs, monetary units. Money. Currency.”

“Yes, I
know
what units are.” He waved his hand. “But where are they coming from?”

“People send them to Mose when they watch you on her archive or live feed. Your Glippit story has over two hundred thousand views already.”

“It’s not
my
story. It was told to me when I was a child. Every Glin knows it. Please, tell Mose she can keep the money.”

“What about your war?” asked Seth. “Don’t you need to buy weapons or something?”

Duin didn’t reply, but leaned toward Genny—which meant crossing in front of Seth. Seth grabbed his pint glass and backed out of Duin’s way.

“What do you think, J’ni? Does the money belong to the orphans or the liberation of Glin?”

She placed her hand over Duin’s. “I think if you have to gain Glin’s liberation at the expense of children, then you’ve already lost.”

Duin grinned in satisfaction and squeezed her hand. “As you say.”

Seth glowered at them. It made her feel guilty, even though she knew she’d done nothing wrong.

“I’m going to ask Emma to play ‘The Butterfly.’” Genny pulled her hand away from Duin’s.

She left Seth and Duin sitting together in grim silence and went to the stage to talk to the harper.

When “The Fields of Athenry” ended, Duin spoke. “I know you don’t like me. But I appreciate the fact that you tolerate me, for her sake.”

“Trust me, I’m not tolerating you. If the colonel lets you stay here, he has a reason. So I’m not about to put my ass in a sling by bashing your frog head in. Which is what I would like to do,
for her sake
. But I’ll have to leave that to someone else.”

“Mm.” Duin acknowledged Seth’s sentiments with a short humming sound and said no more. When Genny rejoined them, he stayed only long enough to hear the song she requested. Then he thanked her for a very enlightening evening and stood to leave.

Damn it, Seth was getting to him. She wanted to reassure him, and herself. “See you in the morning. We need to finish going through those files about the Boer Wars and do an interview about the Tikati work camps.”

“I’ll be there.” Duin inclined his head and swept his hand in a gesture almost like a salute. But it was the way he ignored Seth entirely—did not even glance in his direction—that said the most to her. She could imagine Duin’s voice saying,
To
Yaggla
with him
.

When Duin was gone, Seth brooded over his pint and the musicians began a rendition of the tragic and melancholy “Grace.” About halfway through the song, he said, “Don’t bring that thing to Aileen’s any more. They’ll lose business.”

“Like hell.” Genny laughed. “Mose’s school gets donations every time Duin visits.”

“That’s different. That’s charity for kids. This is a business. Aileen is too nice to say so, Genny, but you think anybody wants to eat with a two-toned toad sitting right beside them?”

“It’s called
countershading
. It’s a kind of natural camouflage. And Duin’s not a toad.”

“You know they don’t have junk?” He saw the look on her face. “Yeah, I read the doc’s med files.”

“They do too, but it’s internal most of the time.”

“And you know this from personal experience or you taking the frog’s word for it?”

She ignored the question. It was stupid. “I’ve got the chance to interview someone from another world. Do you realize how important this is? My blog is in the Top 200.”