Chapter 7 – Decaying Orbit
We fell into an easy pattern over the next number of days as the creche ship winked between the dark reaches of space on a course I might later describe as curiously circuitous.
I suppose calling ours an easy pattern is a bit of a misnomer. It was, instead, a collision course: Araxis and I were in a decaying orbit with one another, and it was only a matter of time until we fell together.
Each day after morning training, I'd tuck myself away in my room and research.
I intended to continue reading about the Tournament so that I might be fully prepared, or as prepared as it was possible for someone like me to be.
And I did spend some time reading profiles of contestants in the other cycles, enough to confirm what Alet Trident had said: the Tournament was expensive enough and scary enough that the people who entered had to be desperate.
For every participant, it was a final chance – glory or ruin, one way or another.
But I only put in a few hours researching the Tournament.
I told myself it was too depressing and wasn't good for my nerves, but in truth, I found myself consistently drifting back to anything I had saved that related to abaya at all.
I even hooked myself into the ship's systems and went exploring for any data files that might be useful.
A children's primer helped me better understand abayan gender: there were eleven classes, and they were a bit like the chikaari caste system and a bit like astrology from Earth, and also unlike either of those things.
I did read more about virra – my gut reaction that the category functioned a bit like hot sluts was close enough to right – and spent a long time exploring the ins and outs of how Araxis had described himself…
as well as what it meant to be skoshas, the other, uncategorized and disordered.
Once I'd had my fill of reading, I would wander about the ship looking for company, which meant finding Araxis wherever he was.
I wasn't used to spending so much time alone: in the den, I was never really alone unless I was sleeping; if I wasn't with a client, I was with the other employees, and there was always a lot of gossip to catch up on.
The creche ship seemed incredibly empty.
Knowing now that the residents were the last members of a dying house in exile from the rest of abayan society, and that they were relying on Araxis to somehow restore them to some standing in Xitera, their home system, made the whole situation seem a hell of a lot sadder, and a bit hopeless.
Araxis was often in the bridge, reviewing charts and data from the navigational system.
Sometimes, I found him fiddling with the ship's systems with Egnax, whose primary hobby seemed to be barking orders at Araxis while he diligently handed her whatever tool she was waiting for next.
I occasionally saw Evreni in the lab. She always put her work away whenever I passed by, so I didn't like to linger; I hated being a disruption, unless it was the fun kind, and she only ever squinted at me suspiciously.
Talvi had developed a sixth sense for whenever I had a spare moment. They'd taken to showing up at my door once I'd finished reading, and they'd crawl into my bed and ask me a thousand questions about where I'd come from.
I wasn't honest, of course. I wasn't looking to give a child nightmares, especially an isolated child – and maybe part of me found it, I don't know, soothing to be an adult Talvi could come curl up next to and hear about the wonderful things waiting in the broad universe.
It only took a few days for Adrathi to start to follow suit, trailing after her sibling, and while she wouldn't come into my room all the way at first, she did like to sit on the rungs of the ladder, resting her head against the metal and keeping an eye on us as I showed Talvi some of the media I'd saved about Earth.
Later in the day, the children would vanish, citing lessons with Vivith as the cause, and as if on cue, Araxis would find me wherever I was and ask if we might resume our training.
I caught myself smiling to myself, unbidden, whenever I followed him toward the training room – a reflex, unstoppable, and one I found incredibly embarrassing when I thought about it for too long.
I knew this whole thing was an interlude, of course.
Sometimes, I'd pull up the letter about the Tournament just to remind myself; sometimes, I'd pull up my copy of the invoice from Seraphim for my own existence.
I knew a reality check was coming, and that it was going to arrive with shattering force…
but I liked this in-between. A breath between two storms. One last beautiful moment in my life, before the end.
I kept a countdown. Ten days until I had to be on Thenat-6. Nine. Eight. One week left.
I tried not to think about what was coming as The End, but I was quite certain that that's where I was headed.
Training with Araxis had confirmed what I knew anyway: I wasn't anywhere near good enough to survive, and if I yielded, then Seraphim would collect.
The very best I could hope for was that someone might take a shine to me and buy my debt, and given the astronomical number on that stupid invoice, I couldn't see that happening.
So I was determined to enjoy the hell out of my time with Araxis on this ship.
I even started feeling affection for its rough edges, its clanking water systems, its temperamental lights, its perpetual cold.
Araxis kept the training room warm for me, which was sweet, and there was endless tea, a big bed, and kids who looked at me like I was magic – who knew I'd even wanted that?
And of course, there was Araxis.
He learned everything I offered with an ease I found staggering.
At the time, I thought he was remarkable, that his innate athleticism and his incisive abayan mind meant he could pick the sequences up with little repetition.
Now, I know that he'd mastered them already and was indulging me – but he played the part well, and I was dazzled.
"Can you show me again?" he would ask, head tilted.
"I'm uncertain when to shift my weight to the back leg.
" And I, obliging, would fit my body against his, one hand resting against the flat plane of his lower stomach, the other resting beneath an extended arm, and I would nudge him gently into place with my body.
My touches often lingered, and sometimes he leaned into the touch – his shoulder against my chest, his head turning toward me.
I was half-hard all of the fucking time in that practice room, and Araxis just continued to flutter his long eyelashes at me and blush that pretty pink colour while my heart lurched painfully and my dick ached to be touched.
Once he learned a new sequence, we'd practice until we were both gasping for air, moving faster than I ever had through the steps.
We began threading the sequences together, and then we stopped planning, instead surprising each other with the way we ordered the steps.
Working with him felt as easy as breathing, and we'd always end our session panting, heated, and laughing.
I came close, more than once, to kissing him right there.
I could have pressed him up against the wall; I thought regularly of dropping to my knees in front of him and taking him in mouth (helpfully, I'd already had a database of sexual organs and erogenous zones on my wristband, which covered all known Primus species and some others besides, so I had a good understanding of what I'd find when I finally tugged the waist of his pants down).
I held off because of what he said one day when we were sprawled against the wall after a particularly intense practice.
I was dripping sweat everywhere, but I caught him watching hungrily out of the corner of my eye, so I wasn't too worried about making myself more presentable.
We were talking again about gender, after I'd found the children's book and had learned more about the different classes and what they meant.
"I guess what I don't understand," I said, head tipped back against the wall as I huffed for breath, "is how abayan gender is different from personality.
It seems to me like, okay – I'll use myself as an example.
So humans are sexually dimorphic, mostly anyway.
Some people have genitals like mine, and some people have other genitals that mean they might be able to carry children.
And because I have these genitals," I gestured broadly in the direction of my dick, and was pleased to see Araxis looking extra pink beside me, "it purportedly means I'm a man and that I should be attracted to women.
I'm not, but this is a thought experiment.
So, pretend I am. Within that, there are, like, infinite variations on personality.
I wouldn't be attracted to every woman, just some.
Would those be your genders? Because you're not sexually dimorphic, so gender and attraction are more about… personality?"
Next to me, Araxis shifted, fluting out a long sigh.
I loved the sounds he made: the trills, the subvocal purrs and rumbles.
There was an innate musicality that made me aware of just how flat my own voice sounded in contrast. "It is hard to say, Sashen.
It is possible. Perhaps you have found yourself drawn to a particular gender, or genders, without realizing that was the common element.
We have no hard and fast rules. It is not like your former colony: inavil are not always drawn to irenek; xandai are not forbidden from loving ivriitan.
There are customs, but Xitera does not hold to ancient ways.
You know that Evreni is part of a triad, even.
Attraction and how we create partnerships is – complex. "
"But everyone likes virra, right?" I asked, shooting him a sly smile.