Chapter 4 #4
I also knew a little about the working conditions of crecheless abaya.
One of the arkathi we'd met from Creche Eshos had mentioned it and wondered if Creche Thiel would be interested in supporting a measure to introduce repatriation legislation.
As it stands, the entinn had said, our crecheless kin are condemned to very difficult lives outside of Xitera.
We are working with some other creches on a program that might allow them to apply to return in some capacity, so that at least they would fall under the protection of a creche.
They are otherwise vulnerable to less respectable paths.
Which had sounded a bit patronizing to me, but what did I know?
Besides, I loved a less respectable path.
Still, there had been a lot of crecheless abaya at that gathering.
I'd met a lot of crecheless abaya. It wasn't an easy life: it wasn't easy for anyone who didn't have anything, not in Primus.
There was a reason the Galactic Tournament of Superiority existed and it wasn't because people living normal lives were tempted by a battle cruiser.
Was that speaker – Nizanin, Rodil had said, and the faction was the Unbound – part of some sort of movement to organize crecheless abaya?
A file pinged on my wristband, and I downloaded it quickly, turning back toward the suite.
This was probably the kind of thing I needed to tell Araxis.
He didn't need to know I'd been there, but if this was about what was happening right now in the empire, if this was about politics – and it had to be, even if I couldn't understand the exact shape – then he should know. At least I could do that much.
I thanked Val for the information and asked if she could send me anything else she found, before setting off again at a jog, picking my way back toward Creche Thiel.
I read the article along the way, which was sparse on details – par for the course for anything about abaya – but heavy on implication: there'd been a speaker from Xitera, and while the article didn't say who or what they represented, they did describe Nizanin as radical; a crowd of abaya who lived on station were in attendance; guards had made a series of arrests to address the disorderly conduct and destruction of property and some subsequent acts of violence; they acted swiftly and decisively to end the riot.
I thought of the crowd – quiet, attentive, controlled – and shook my head. Bullshit.
All the way home, I turned my thoughts over exactly how much I wanted to tell Araxis: what was essential, what I might gloss over, what he might share. If he'd share anything with me.
I found him standing exactly where I'd left him, bathed in the omnipresent glow of the display in our bedroom with an array of messages floating before him.
He barely glanced up when I came in, too engrossed in cross-referencing something in an alphabet I still couldn't read, but the moment I stepped in close to his side, his chin jerked up.
"Did you have –" started Araxis.
"Yeah, a nice run," I finished, waving a hand dismissively. "I cut it short. Because I've got something for you. Something that sounds important."
His head tilted as he took me in with his endless black eyes. His stare flicked down to the sweat trailing down my neck, getting caught somewhere near my mouth and then rising, finally, back to my eyes. "Yes?"
Stars above. Really and truly, everyone always thinks I'm the one with the voracious appetite, but that's only because they don't know Araxis well. "I still have contacts off-station," I said plainly. "You know that."
Araxis inclined his head. He tucked his hands behind his back, as if restraining himself, his weight shifting away from me almost imperceptibly.
"Well, I just had a friend reach out to see how we were doing after the riot.
I guess –" and here I was pulling from the article Val had sent me and pretending not to know more, "there was some abayan speaker from Xitera here on Sozamia, and the ward guards arrested a bunch of people down in Radiant Ward who were listening to them speak. A bunch of crecheless abaya."
Araxis went very still. "Hm. You have a thoughtful friend."
That was a weird reaction. And there was only one reason I could think of that he wouldn't ask any follow-up questions or look surprised or ask for more information. "Did you know about that? It wasn't on any of the station broadcasts."
"Yes," said Araxis carefully. "I was informed." His shoulders were square and upright as he looked at me and the contrast between us – Araxis, composed, while I was rumpled and flushed – struck me again.
What also struck me was that he knew. He knew the gathering had happened; he knew who'd been there; he knew there'd been arrests.
It seemed, in a rush, like the kind of thing he'd want me to know as well in case it came up at meetings.
Araxis translated some of the articles that arrived every morning from Xitera for me.
Why would he share those, but not this information?
It had happened on Sozamia Station, so of course I should know.
He should want me to. Just like he should want me to know all about the different creches.
Just like he should want me to be prepared for all of our meetings, so that I could be his partner in this and all things.
So that I could be an equal, like we'd stipulated in our contract. Like he said he wanted in his life.
"Who was the speaker?" I asked, aiming for a mild tone, even though I knew what I was doing, in that moment, was a test. And the stakes were high, even if he didn't realize it; even if I couldn't tell him.
This was it, I thought. Either he'd tell me because he'd meant it when he said he wanted me to be his equal – to be his in a way that mattered – or he'd hide it all away and keep me firmly on the outside.
I watched as Araxis swallowed, weighing something behind those fathomless eyes.
I could see his thoughts winding through a maze of his own making; that much, I was familiar with at least. How many times had I looked at him and thought he was running a labyrinth in his mind, only to find out that the route he'd been tracing was all about making me compliant, keeping me in the dark?
That what he was charting were ways of hiding things out of sight that might upset me, even if the cost was my sense of where we were and what was actually going on?
So, despite my intention to stay quiet and let him make his choice for better or worse, my mouth opened of its own accord and I found myself saying, "I hate it when you look at me like that."
Araxis recoiled. His eyelids fluttered in shock. "Sashen –" he started.
"I can see when you're deciding what to tell me and what not to tell me," I said, tone sharp. "I'd rather you just tell me the truth, instead of always trying to – to optimize whatever it is you're saying to me. Sometimes I don't know why I even bother if you can't just talk to me."
"I – Sashen –" Araxis's body rocked backwards, as if I'd hit him. His eyes were wide and surprised.
My heart thundered against my eardrums as I looked up at him, chest hollow except for my pulse. And that was it, wasn't it? When was the last time we'd had a normal fucking conversation? When had it been easy?
"I just –" I said breathily, as if I'd just sprinted all the way back, "I don't know why you won't talk to me. You don't tell me anything, Araxis. It's like we're strangers. Is it because – Is it the contract?"
Because maybe that was it. I wasn't all-in and he knew it.
I had one foot out the door, even though I was trying.
God, I was trying, day in and day out. I spent hours at his side in meetings; I'd arranged my language lessons and spent every scrap of energy I had on learning abayan as quickly as I could; even training with Tam, while that was partially for me, was also for Araxis.
I didn't want to be dead weight he had to carry.
I wanted to be useful. I wanted to be helpful. I wanted –
I wanted to be a treasure.
Instead, I was what I'd always been: space trash. I could see it now. I knew it.
Araxis visibly pulled himself together as my thoughts careened in a thousand different dark directions.
"It is not the contract, Sashen," he said finally.
"And – you are right, beloved, I am holding back.
But it isn't because of you: it's because – Sashen, I am trying not to presume.
I am trying to – to respect your autonomy. I don't want to burden you with –"
"With what?" I asked, furious. "With knowing things that might be helpful for me to know? With knowing more about Xitera and your culture and you? That's not a burden, Araxis. That's a relationship."
And that was it, wasn't it? The bone-deep bruise I was trying to hide, the source of my misery.
If we weren't trying to figure out whether or not we could be together, how we could be together, why the fuck was I here at all?
I could be with another creche – Araxis had said, before we'd done our interviews with the justiciar, that he could arrange that.
I could be off in Sol with Perseus. I might as well be space dust.
I could have chosen that, any of that. But here I was – I'd chosen to be here – because I still loved Araxis. I loved him and I wanted him and I wanted to be with him –
And I wasn't certain he wanted me in the same way. Because why would he?
I knew he wanted to fuck me. I knew he wanted me to sit next to him at meetings so that he could place a proprietary hand on my thigh.
I knew he wanted me to look at him like he was the universe.
I knew he wanted to feel better about what he'd done by respecting my autonomy, by giving me time to myself.
But did he actually want to be with me?
I suspected I had the answer now.