The Silver Ship and the Sea by Brenda Cooper Read Free Book Online Page B

when he did the same things; this felt like working with the blind and the half blind. Joseph was that much better.
    The boundary had two parts; a physical gated wall that guarded Artistos on every side except the cliffs and parts of the river, and a companion string of wireless devices, a virtual fence that sent information to the boundary bell. The wireless boundary ran along the top of every wall, every gate, and crossed every river and stream, making an uneven circle of comparative safety around Artistos. Data pods sensed heat and motion and size and read ID tags, so the bell knew to ring differently for paw-cat, for hebra herd, for human entrance and exit. Everyone except Jenna had an ident chip that alerted the boundary to our passage in and out.
    Nearly two weeks after the quake, the four of us sat silently at breakfast. The bell rang for a paw-cat. It took me a second to recognize the tones; it had been two years since a paw-cat came to town. Nava and Tom pushed up from the table and ran outside. Joseph and I glanced at each other, then followed, watching over our shoulders nervously as we headed for the park.
    Tom and Nava and seven or eight others were huddled in conversation when we came up to them. A handful of other adults were approaching. I overheard snippets of talk. “…east boundary…hebras?…armory for stunners…children inside.”
    Tom stood and pointed toward the edge of the park, a slight, wry smile touching his lips. Jenna stood next to a twintree, the dead cat hanging limply down her back. Its body, nose to rump, streamed from her head to her calves, and its tail hung over her shoulder, draping down the front of her. It must have weighed seventy kilos, yet she seemed only lightly burdened. She came up to the group of us and dropped the body on the grass.
    Jenna stood at least a head taller than anyone else in the circle. Her gray hair was tied in a long rough braid behind her back, and her green hemp work clothes dripped with the cat’s blood. She was magnificent.
    It felt good to see her strong, to know she and I were of the same people, that I was more like her than the colonists. Oh, I didn’t envy her loneliness, but her sense of power and grace, of competence; those called to me. Even with her mangled face and single pale eye, she radiated pride, accomplishment, and control.She pointed at the cat. “I found this by the hebra barns. It came in gate five. It was alone.”
    She turned abruptly and left, jogging away in long ground-eating strides, and Tom alone had the presence of mind to call out, “Thank you.”
     
    The next morning Paloma and Kayleen and I painstakingly tested gate five’s digital reflexes, checking the mesh of the signals by moving through it and recording when it responded and when it didn’t.
    Just past noon, Paloma stood up, sweat dripping down her face. “I’m thirsty. Will you two be okay here while I go get us water and a snack?”
    We nodded. We had protected ourselves by setting up a secondary data fence in a half circle outside the gate, but we looked around often, remembering the cat.
    I nearly screamed when Jenna appeared in front of me. This was twice in two weeks she had sought me out. We often went months without seeing her except at a distance.
    She held her one hand up for silence. “Your brother is not riding the data networks.”
    I blinked at her, confused. “No. He is afraid.”
    She cocked her head, looking at me appraisingly. “He saw death. So? Fear will stop him, and stop us all, from our destiny. You need him, all of you. Tell him.”
    Too many people were telling me to fix Joseph. Nava and Jenna both wanting us to perform, wanting Joseph for their own ends, acting as if I didn’t want him to heal more than anything. “He is not listening to me about returning to his old duties. Perhaps he will listen if you talk to him.”
    Kayleen stepped nearer, cautiously, as if she were afraid Jenna would spook.
    Jenna shook her head. “He has not