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The ground is hard and hot under Ersence Tridali’s boots. She didn’t have to
go synthesize these for this occasion. She already owned this whole outfit.
Ever since her home was destroyed, she’s been prepared to survive in some of
the most hostile places. She likes to think of herself and her people as
extremophiles, which is all the more impressive because they’re baseline
humans, for the most part. The locals, they didn’t want the refugees here,
but now they’re all refugees, which she finds poetically just, and
incredibly satisfying. They’ve all run away, but the Doma Tertians are sick
of running. They were told that they could live here, so that’s exactly what
they’re gonna do.
A shuttle flies overhead, and slowly lands several meters away.
“Oh, here we go.” She sighs, which she’s just now realizing she’s been doing
on purpose since she returned. She likes the clicking sound her respirator
makes.
The hatch peels open and transforms into a ramp. Someone in one of those
fancy IMS units comes down. They think they’re better than her because of
it. They have all these gadgets and gizmos, but they’re just a waste. All
you need is something that isn’t permeable, doesn’t tear, and insulates you
from the heat or cold. You don’t need seven layers to make that happen,
especially not when one of them is just to read your vitals and make it feel
like you’re wearing underwear. The figure approaches and flashes a radio
frequency on their chest, extending an invitation for them to talk to each
other.
Ersence shakes her head. She grabs the stranger by the shoulders and places
her helmet against theirs. “This is how we talk. We don’t need radios.”
“How do you communicate across distances?” a man’s voice questions.
“We like to stay close to one another,” Ersence explains to the idiot.
“This area is unsafe and uninhabitable. Please return to your shuttle and
leave.”
“I’m here to survey the land for hospitality,” Ersence explains. “This
particular site is too volatile, but some parts are better than others. I’ll
find it, and it’s none of your business. We’re not hurting anyone, just
leave us alone.”
“It would be morally reprehensible for us to allow you to remain
anywhere in what was once Eyrenland,” the man insists. “We must begin
installing the heat pumps to expedite the cooling and solidifying process.
You cannot be here when that happens.”
“Install whatever you want,” Ersence encourages. “We’ll stay out of your
way.”
The man separates their helmets just long enough to shake his head. “The
pumps will make this entire landmass impossibly hot while it radiates into
space. Even if you had an IMS, you wouldn’t be able to survive on the
surface. Nowhere is safe. Please go.”
Man, this guy is not letting up. “Listen, buddy. My people stayed on Doma
Tertia even under threat of annihilation from a literal death star. Do you
have any idea how hot that world was? We didn’t have a choice but to leave
there, but we’re not going to let it happen again. We have become quite
accustomed to thriving in harsh environments. Your heat pumps don’t scare
us. Leave me alone while I finish my survey.”
When she tries to separate them again, he holds her back. “If you do not
leave on your own, history will repeat itself, and you will be forcibly
removed. If you were in Gatewood, then you would know that someone is here
with teleportation tech. They rescued you once, they can do it again. Even
if you got your hands on another shuttle, and came right back here, in
seconds, you could be swept up yet again. There is no winning this. I was
dispatched to be diplomatic, but this is not our last resort.”
Ersence laughs. “You think we’re not intimately familiar with Sugar
Delgado’s ship? It has disappeared from the solar system, probably in an
attempt to figure out where those black holes keep coming from. We timed our
mission perfectly.”
“The lieutenant, Hidayat; he stayed behind with his own shuttle. He has told
us that he will summon you if we ask,” the man claims. “Don’t make him do
it. Don’t let yourself be humiliated like that. Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida
deals in two currencies: eyren...and reputation. Leave on your own accord.
It will be better for you.”
“I don’t like to be threatened,” Ersence tells him.
“It’s not a threat, it is the Bidan way,” he says. “I do have a radio, and
I’ll make the call. You have five minutes to pack up your gear, and begin
your preflight check.”
“Preflight check,” Ersence echoes. “Preflight check, safety,
reputation. You people sure do love to live cautiously. When you’ve
been through what we have, you gain a little perspective. You realize how
precious life is when you don’t have an extra body to fall back on. You
would think someone like me would be safer, but that’s not how the
ancestors lived, nor we. Just so you know, we have radios too, which is why
I know that the magic shuttle you were talking about is still sitting in the
same place it was in that other egg country. I have plenty of time before
your threat so much as manifests, especially since you people are so
obsessed with your preflight checks.”
Ersence separates their helmets and turns away so she can pack up her
things, not because that’s what he wants, but because she has to make
another hop to find somewhere better. If they truly are installing heat
pumps, that changes the equation. It will determine where she checks next on
the search grid. As she’s closing the lid on her ground-penetrating radar,
she blinks, and finds herself somewhere entirely different.
Gone is the barren landscape and scattered gas vents. She’s in a grassy
prairie on the edge of a town. Next to her is the giant shuttle she was
supposed to be worried about. She removes her helmet as a telescopic lift
descends from the belly and lands.
Sugar’s lackey, Vantu steps out and approaches. “I was listening to your
conversation. I knew you were never gonna give it up. You people never do.
You would rather die than admit defeat. It would be admirable if it weren’t
so pathetically foolish.”
Ersence scowls, both at the man and the shuttle. “I’m not getting back in
that thing, and I’m not going back up into space. None of us is, you can bet
on that.”
Van nods. “I’ve been speaking with the locals here. They had a sort of
rivalry against Eyrenland. Of course, the latter was orders of magnitude
larger and more economically significant, but they had a fundamental
difference in philosophies. The Eyrenlanders want to go back to what they
were doing, but here. The Quiratani aren’t so enthused. They need warm
bodies, not geniuses, so I thought of you!”
She rolls her eyes, choosing not to give him the satisfaction of her taking
offense.
Van goes on, “they’ll give you places to live, but since I know you like to
be self-sufficient, the abodes don’t come with bells or whistles.
Very low tech and low-key. You’ll fit right in, but you have to follow their
rules, and their training. Don’t be stubborn and stupid. The reason you went
off to try to resettle Eyrenland is because they told you that you
couldn’t...like a child. But I know you better than the Bidans, and I know
you don’t want anything that belongs to anyone else, so stay here, and build
it.”
Some guy walks up to them.
“Ersence Tridali,” Van begins, “allow me to introduce you to Jande Ter
Avest.”
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