Chapter 2 #2
What could Gus say; she liked pretty things.
For the most part though, the entryway was cozy. Homey even. With a few rugs to soften the feel of the place and a credenza decorated with a variety of plants and flowers.
Gus waited for Anandra to grab Caius by the legs before bending down to do the same with the commander’s arms. Even with the boy’s help, it wasn’t easy.
“What do they feed him to make him so big?” Gus complained between gritted teeth.
She grunted and heaved, dragging the Tuann one foot. Then two.
By the time they reached the far wall and the door waiting there, Caius had procured a whole new set of bruises.
Gus dropped his arms to unlock the door.
There was a beep and then the sound of the door unsealing.
She shouldered it open before reaching back to grab Caius’s wrists to resume dragging.
Anandra was smart enough not to comment as they carted Caius through her main living area, past a spiral staircase that led up to the container above where her bedroom and office were located.
Surprisingly, shipping containers made for comfortable living spaces as long as you were willing to take the time and energy to adapt them for your use.
Gus had spent hours removing walls and ceilings where necessary to create a home perfect for her needs.
Holding everything together was an adhesive of her own design.
One stronger than any sealant sold for emergency ship repairs.
Gus wagered that Titan could break apart—and as long as her sanctuary remained intact—it could float off into the void, no harm done.
The plants inside would keep her in oxygen. Food would be her only concern.
Then again, there was her vegetable garden.
As long as she was careful, she could survive for quite a while on whatever she had on hand.
The smell of green, growing things and wet dirt grew steadily stronger as they neared one of Gus’s four green houses.
This one was dominated by plants native to Tuann worlds.
Gus had mixed a few species from Earth and other human held planets among them as well. All with varying degrees of toxicity.
If they’d gone left after reaching her main living space, they would have come across the greenhouse devoted to those plants that flourished in darkness.
Kind of like Gus.
As they entered the Tuann themed greenhouse, Gus noted the look of wonder on Anandra’s face. Belatedly, Gus realized that this might be Anandra’s first encounter with a Tuann forest.
The plant life from the Tuann home worlds, particularly trees, were known to be horrendously difficult to cultivate.
So much so that they were hard to find even on the black market; that was in large part due to the unique properties of their native habitat.
It was one of the most closely guarded secrets of the Tuann.
All of their home worlds were inhabited by a being called the Mea’Ave.
The Tuann referred to it as the planet’s soul.
A mysterious creature that gave off a unique energy signature both the Tuann and the flora and fauna of their planets needed to survive.
Gus had never been able to establish whether the Mea’Ave employed a type of terraforming or if the Tuann tampered with the biomes of the planets they ended up claiming. How else could you explaining finding some of the same plants and animals on planets located light years from each other?
Unlike those trees found on Tuann ships which were transplanted after a certain age and given a piece of their planet’s Mea’Ave for safe keeping, the ones here had been nurtured by Gus from seedlings she’d obtained directly from their home planets.
At first, she’d just wanted to see what would happen. To do what others thought impossible.
Those same trees were probably what had drawn Caius to her doorstep. The Tuann were kind of like energy vampires, able to sustain themselves for a short time on the plants native to their planets.
Gus thought she’d accounted for that possibility by incorporating a special metal into the walls of this container meant to block the trees’ energy, but it must not have been strong enough to block everything.
To her relief, Anandra didn’t voice any of the questions she could see brewing. Someone must have taught him the danger of knowing things you shouldn’t.
Together, they dragged Caius further into the forest. To the base of the first Tuann tree Gus ever cultivated.
She wasn’t happy about the marks they left in their wake or the way Caius’s hand caught on a wilia bush, yanking it out of the ground.
Breathe, just breathe. Focus on why you’re doing this, Gus chanted to herself.
Keeping Caius alive was a necessary evil to prevent the calamity that was known as Kira. The structural integrity of Titan depended on this man making it home.
Alive, Pityrodia Augustensis.
Goodness, and there she went full naming herself. That was a hint as to how bad things were.
Pityrodia Augustensis. Otherwise known as Mt. Augustus Foxglove.
Gus for short.
A humble plant from the old Earth continent of Australia.
Considered more of a bushy shrub, its flowers were a deep purple and covered in woolly hairs.
It was long since thought to have gone extinct due to human destruction of its habitat, but when it was still in existence it had clung to life on rocky hillsides with a tenacity that Gus admired.
She’d chosen it as her namesake for its hardiness and the unique beauty that was all its own.
Sometimes Gus wished she’d chosen something simpler. Maybe a little more common.
Oleander or Belladonna maybe.
No, she was a Pityrodia Augustensis through and through.
There was a slight gasp from her side as the energy from the Tuann plants reached out to embrace them. Anandra’s eyelids fluttered shut and something that looked a lot like yearning filled his features.
“Come on,” Gus ordered, uncomfortable with what she saw. He was much too young for such an expression, making her wonder what his story was. Not that she would ever ask. That would indicate interest. Of which she had none. She was just a little curious, is all.
They dragged Caius to the massive choko tree in the far corner. As soon as they reached it, Gus dropped his arms, eager to put distance between herself and Roake’s military commander.
“Wait—I thought you were going to help him,” Anandra protested as she turned to go.
“And I have.”
What more did this boy want from her? She’d protected him and Caius from those humans. She’d given them access to her inner sanctum and the trees he needed to repair himself.
Anything more would be excessive. He might as well ask for her life.
A chirrup came from one of the nearby bushes. A second later, an animal the size of Gus’s fist with lilac colored fur stuck its head out of the leaves. Seeing Gus, it fluttered its wings, bobbing up and down as it prepared to launch itself airborne.
“Is that a chaterling?” Anandra asked in a hushed whisper.
His features were filled with an admiration that bordered on reverence as the creature landed on Gus’s shoulder and hooked its long tail around her neck. It rubbed its cheek against hers in greeting.
Gus offered it her finger. “Hello, there.”
The chaterling had shown up one day out of the blue. She found it eating the pollen from the azira aliri she’d included in the ecosystem.
It was something of a mystery as to how the chaterling had managed to find its way inside considering the containers were supposed to be airtight. Gus left it alone because of how happy the forest had been since its arrival.
“I’ve never seen one in person before,” Anandra admitted.
Gus checked his expression out of the corner of her eye.
The chaterlings could be found on most Tuann held worlds.
For him to never have encountered one meant one of two things.
He was either from a small minor House that existed outside the Tuann empire’s borders; there were several within spitting distance of Titan.
Or he belonged to a pair of wanderers. Those who’d been exiled from their House for some imagined slight or another.
Gus was betting on the second of those two options.
It did beg the question of why someone of Caius’s status—a favored son of a major House—would be running around with an outcast’s child.
“Keep an eye on him,” Gus instructed, giving the chaterling one last pat before unwrapping its tail from around her neck. She lifted the small creature onto a low hanging branch of the choko tree.
It chirruped before disappearing into the canopy with a rustle of leaves.
She’d never been sure exactly how much the creature understood, but its behavior made her think it was intelligent.
“Where are you going?” Anandra protested as Gus walked away.
“I have work. You two have delayed it long enough.”
Gus paused. It irked her, but a warning might be in order.
Normally, she would let nature run its course. If someone was stupid enough to go touching things they shouldn’t, they deserved whatever happened next.
But this was a child. Impulsive and reckless, without the wisdom that age and trauma brought.
Caius would also wake up eventually. It behooved Gus to keep Anandra in the same condition in which she’d found him.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” Gus advised.
While there were a few trees and plants that were harmless, the vast majority were deadly. Among those, most required the ingestion of their leaves, flowers, or bark to present a problem but not all.
“A-alright, I will,” Anandra stammered.
He looked slightly confused but nonetheless open minded and attentive. It made Gus wonder if she should add anything or if that was enough. He’d seen what the orchid did to those humans, and she’d warned him. That was more than most people got.
Just then, Anandra’s stomach rumbled. Painfully loud in the otherwise silent greenhouse. He avoided meeting Gus’s eyes as his cheeks flushed with shame. It was clear that he was embarrassed but Gus couldn’t figure out why.
“How long has it been since you ate?”
“I don’t know,” Anandra admitted in a small voice, sounding miserable.
She contemplated the top of his head, coming to a decision a second later. “I’ll bring you something as soon as I can.”
She’d heard children liked to put things in their mouths. If providing food would keep him from nibbling on something he shouldn’t, it was a small price to pay.
Besides, Gus knew what hunger was. That gnawing pain in the gut that became all you could think about. The only thing worse was when that feeling faded, leaving you numb as you wasted away.
No child would starve while in her care. She was a hermit, not a monster. No matter what her nightmares told her sometimes.