Page 27

Seeker

With every fiber of my being, I debate this decision.

It’s such a weighty choice, and I’ve protected myself fiercely from scrutiny ever since I arrived. To even contemplate doing otherwise seems incredibly reckless. Jen isn’t judging me; she understands how terrifying this is, I think.

But I’ve always been prone to taking risks.

“It would be nice to be myself for a while,” I admit quietly. “No deception. I had lost all hope that there could be any moments like that for me.”

“You can always be yourself with me,” she replies.

Warmth suffuses me. I do trust her; I’ve placed my fate in her hands. And I want to seize this opportunity. Jaz may wonder what I’m thinking, but this seems like my best opportunity to be myself and see how it feels to explore the bond with Jen with no pretense or prevarication between us.

She is so incredibly special.

“Let’s do it,” I say at last.

“Then…are you ready?”

It’s a fraught question.

But I rise in reply, ready to see what the world makes of me. I pick up my bag out of habit and she adds, “You can leave your stuff here. Unless you’re staying with Tad tonight?”

“Do you trust me to share your accommodations?” I ask.

“You trusted me first. I doubt you’d do that if you had any intention of harming me. Though I guess you could off me to keep your secret…” Then she smiles. “Kidding!”

I relax as she speaks the last word. “Most amusing. Yes, I’ll store my things. I won’t need any of them today.”

“Just stay calm. And if anyone acts odd about your look, let me handle it,” Jen says.

With that, she leads the way to the car. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Just…out. No protection from the tech camo.

The parking lot has ten people in it, a few getting into cars. One does a double take when they see us. I tense. Then someone calls, “Way to go, Kira Nerys!”

I realize they’re talking to Jen. I don’t recognize her costume, but she has different head fur and her nose has some ridges in it.

Her facial decorations are a bit different today as well.

She wears a smart uniform and dark boots; I feel that I should know who she is supposed to be, but I’ve consumed so much local media during my exile that it all blurs together.

She flashes a sign with her fingers and continues to the vehicle. I get in without attracting undue attention, perhaps because they don’t recognize my “costume.”

“What should I say when people ask about my appearance?” I ask.

“You designed a costume to match your favorite alien from Tad’s game. People will think it’s a PR move, spreading buzz ahead of a potential fundraiser.”

That is…remarkably clever. It’s also simple enough that I won’t become confused on the details, should I need to repeat the explanation.

She drives with quiet competence, delivering us safely to the outdoor spectacle that has become even more incredible on the second day.

Even more humans. Even more costumes. I don’t recognize most of them.

But the air buzzes with a cocktail of excitement, even more perceptible than the day before.

I drink in the myriad scents—cooking food, human sweat, hot plastic, and the faintest tang of something sweet and familiar.

Jennette.

She leads the way. I think there’s a plan to meet up with everyone else. In this whirlwind of cosplayers and booths that stretch as far as the eye can see, she weaves a path like an expert, reacting and smiling when people recognize the character she’s portraying.

“Is it always this loud?” I ask.

“It gets bigger every year,” Jen says over one shoulder.

We pass a booth where a bookseller is vending used paperbacks, and it occurs to me that I could grace one of those covers, just as I am.

Of course, in those books, humans are always shooting at those who look like me.

Finally I recognize Tad, who looms over the rest of the group.

Next I spot Ravik and Poppy with Jaz bobbing along in his wake.

At least, I think it’s Jaz, but she’s different today.

Slender and purple, and… Oh. She’s Vertesian.

No wonder she said her people are gifted at pattern recognition.

It’s what they’re known for. They’re also the reason there’s a ban on uplifting lower-tech civilizations, because the Vertesians trusted the Solirins and lost everything , including their homeworld.

It’s the greatest scandal in the history of the Galactic Union.

It hasn’t been long since we met at Tad’s campsite, but the world feels different now. Because Jaz knows—and so does Jen. I’m not alone anymore.

“What does everyone want to do?” Jaz asks.

She seems to be studying me, but she doesn’t react. It would be strange if she did, considering that she’s given up her camouflage as well.

“Oh my God!” Poppy squeals, bouncing on her toes. “It’s Sapphire Griffin!”

She points across the sea of heads bobbing between stands filled with every geek treasure you could imagine.

“Who’s that?” Tad asks.

I’m grateful because I don’t know either.

“Only the writer behind the super-addictive Space Venom series,” Jennette explains.

“I could use a little more context,” I put in.

“It’s a romance series between aliens and humans,” Poppy explains. “I’m embarrassed by how much I love those books. Basically, the aliens exude an addictive substance and it’s an aphrodisiac to humans, so it’s all sex, all the time.”

Ravik snorts.

I’m stunned at the depth and breadth of the human imagination. “Would anyone want that? Constantly craving sexual contact would be quite distracting.”

“It’s a fantasy,” Jaz says. “If you can’t resist your lover, you’re allowed to demand all sorts of things that you might otherwise feel guilty about.”

“Guilt is unproductive,” Ravik says.

Tad grins. “I wish my mother agreed with you.”

“Excuse me! Pardon me! Fan club coming through!” Poppy calls, parting the crowd with the charm of a seasoned diplomat.

But there’s still a queue. I can’t see the woman we’re waiting in line for, but she has a table piled high with colorful books and small articles strewn about.

She too seems to be in costume, based on what I can glean from this distance.

I doubt her natural fur shimmers with the iridescence of a marine mammal, nor does human hair normally have so many colors.

In some ways, her bold makeup and large-framed eyeglasses seem like a disguise.

At last, we reach the front. And I haven’t received any strange looks at all.

This is very surreal.

“I’ve read Addicted to Love seventeen times,” Poppy confesses, digging into her bag to produce a battered book.

“Thank you so much,” Sapphire replies. “This means the world to me. Readers like you give me the strength to keep writing.”

Nobody else has a copy of the book on hand, though Jen has the woman sign the cover of her tablet case with a shimmering marker.

The others seem ready to delve deeper into the con, and I’m along for the ride.

It’s not an adventure in the way running across lava floes was, but the warmth is more pervasive and less life-threatening.

The group moves, browsing the stalls. Tad argues with a man for a while over the cost of some icon. I don’t recognize the figure. Jaz lingers nearby, catching my attention.

“You’re feeling bold today,” she whispers.

Belatedly, I realize she’s using a subharmonic that won’t be audible to humans. There’s no risk in conversing with her in the open. I wish she had done this before, but she couldn’t have—not without revealing her own Vertesian origins.

“So are you.”

“There’s nothing to fear. I suspect even if these humans knew our truth, they would venerate us instead of attacking.”

“It’s not these particular humans I’m worried about,” I reply.

“Fair enough. I sense a shift in the way Jen regards you, though. You told her?”

“Do you think that’s unwise?”

“Not at all. If anyone will stand by you, it’s her. But be sure that she sees you as you are, not as a symbol.”

That is one of my concerns as well. Jen might have been equally delighted if Jaz had revealed herself first. Perhaps I’m not special to her in the way I’m beginning to hope I am.

Rather, it’s my “otherness” that appeals to her because she’s made no secret of the fact that she struggles to connect with other humans.

“I’ll be cautious. But…do you know of any way off-world?”

Jaz studies me, and a poignant olfactory note suffuses me, evoking a sense of sorrow.

Vertesians communicate with multiple senses, including scent, sight, and sound.

Then she says, “I do not. I sought refuge from the complications of the Galactic Union. When I arrived, I had no plans ever to depart.”

“Complications?”

“When others look at me there, they see someone downtrodden, a being whose people were tricked and who lost their homes. They don’t see me. I wearied of trying to find a place of my own when there was only pity or judgment out there.”

“But here, there’s none of that.”

“Precisely. I can’t help if you wish to leave, but I can assist if you decide to stay.”