The wind runner book 10.., p.37
The Wind Runner: Book 10 (The Wandering Inn), page 37
“Thank you.”
“No problem. You want to walk?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then. Your turn.”
Geneva’s pace faltered and then returned to normal. Geneva looked around, but the Dullahan child was long gone.
“You scared her.”
Okasha was unmoved.
“So? I don’t feel bad. I would have kicked her if you’d let me.”
“Kicked her?”
Geneva was appalled. Okasha punched Geneva’s right shoulder with her left hand lightly. A Lizardgirl on the road eyed Geneva with interest.
“It’s for her own good. She has to learn not to be caught. Or the next time someone gets her, she’ll lose her arm, her hand—or even her life.”
The thought was incredibly depressing to Geneva. She looked around again, as if she could draw the girl out of the crowd.
“Then we should have helped her.”
“How? By giving her your coin purse? Someone will just rob her. Or she’ll spend it and steal again and again. That’s how I grew up.”
“No. She needs someone to take care of her. If her family isn’t there, or if they’re not responsible, she needs a home. Guidance.”
“Planning on saddling the United Nations company with a mouth that’ll steal from them and bring trouble down on them?”
“No.”
But that was the option, wasn’t it? Geneva bit her lip.
“On Earth, there are institutions that help people in need like her. Orphanages. Soup kitchens. Homeless shelters.”
“And do they save everyone?”
The cynicism in Okasha’s voice made Geneva acutely aware of what a lie it would be to say yes. She shook her head.
“No. But it’s something. The system is there, even if it is flawed. It’s…”
A helpless rush ran through her. This time, Okasha did nothing to stop it. Geneva walked on, looking around. Yes, Baleros had richness and beauty. But it was a world. This was a city. There was just as much darkness to it. And in Geneva.
That was the problem. Okasha’s hormonal treatment could only do so much. Geneva spoke out loud as she walked down the street.
“It’s—not just me being disappointed in myself, Okasha. I told you. I’ve diagnosed myself. I’ve had a traumatic event. I’m not sure of all of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder’s symptoms, but I’ll bet I have it. Me and Daly and at least half of the United Nations company. The four newcomers certainly did.”
“You told me about that. I still don’t quite get it. I mean, I do. You’re shaken up from battle. But you’ll get over it. Everyone does.”
“Will we? People from Earth aren’t used to war, Okasha. At least, the ones from countries like Nicoletta’s aren’t. There’re cultural differences, a difference in expectations. Most Humans don’t even see butchered animals. Many will go most of their lives without seeing a dead body more than once or twice—and usually in nonviolent situations.”
And even if they do see them, it’s on the news or at a remove. It’s not war.
Okasha’s voice was wondering in Geneva’s head.
“I can’t imagine a world like that. But if that’s so, perhaps I do understand a bit. You’re all like the children of nobility. Sheltered. So you have this PTSD thing, which makes you sad and depressed all the time, is that right?”
“It’s…the barest of summaries, but I suppose so. There are a lot more complications to it, let alone treating the problem. Mental illness is not my field of study.”
Geneva grimaced.
“But I suppose it is, now. I’m not qualified to be more than an assistant in the operating room back home. Here? I’m the font of medical knowledge.”
“Oh no. Here we go again…you know what you need, Geneva?”
“What?”
“Sex.”
Geneva tripped. Okasha caught her effortlessly and kept her walking, turning her head back and forth as pedestrians walked past her.
“I’m just saying, that’s what we did back in the companies. A new soldier gets the shakes after a battle? Get them drunk, get them laid, and get them a break. Three, four battles after that, if they’re alive, and they’re fine.”
“Having sex is not a solution, Okasha. It’s escapism—”
“It feels good and you should do it. What’s wrong with that?”
“For one thing, I have you in here with me!”
“Is that why you don’t masturbate? Look, I’m totally fine with it. I’ll help, actually. Heck, I’ll do it for you.”
Geneva closed her eyes. One shot back open.
“Watch your step! And don’t get judgmental! I have needs too! Look, if you’d just consider—what about him?”
“What about him?”
“Well?”
“No.”
“But come on! I’m sure he’d be interested. Let me do the talking, though. Unless he likes stone-faced [Doctors] with no sense of humor.”
“Daly laughed at my jokes.”
“He was humoring you. Although he’s a good option—uh, unless he’s still moping about Quexa. I should have told him Lizardfolk don’t do long-term relationships when they’re younger. Hey, you think he and Paige are—”
“No.”
“Okay, what about him? Come on, I know you like him.”
“No.”
“Geneva, that’s an objectively sexy body. Look at it!”
“I’m not dating a Centaur, Okasha.”
“Who said anything about dating?”
Geneva shut up. The problem with arguing with a Selphid in your body was that they could tell when you were lying and what you were feeling. The heart palpitations, sweat…Okasha admitted it was new to her to have a living body doing these things, but she was good at monitoring a body, and she gloated now.
“You and I have the same taste, which is good taste. Admit it! Come on, Geneva. Just one night? Or we can take it slow. I bet you we can get an empty room for a moment in the apartments. Or, hell, I’ll settle for a tree in the jungle, although if there are bugs—”
“Will you be quiet!?”
“But I’m restless. Geneva! Do you know how quickly nerve endings wear out in a dead body? There’s a reason we call it ‘fresh body fun’, you know.”
“Not in my body. Not now, thank you.”
“Wait, does that mean later—”
Geneva groaned. This was going to be a problem. But Okasha was living with her. It was like having a roommate you couldn’t get rid of. Not without suffering full-body paralysis and your roommate being incredibly vulnerable to harm or diseases. That kind of relationship everyone had. She changed the subject abruptly.
“I’m going to talk with Daly and Paige tonight. See if I can do something…anything to help. At least I can tell them about the diseases and my progress there.”
She heard Okasha shudder.
“Horrible stuff. Okay, at least you’re perking up! See? Even talking about sex—”
“But until then, I want you to help me exercise, Okasha.”
Geneva heard Okasha whine.
“Again? But I did that yesterday!”
“And two days ago. It needs to happen at least three times a week, Okasha. Preferably more. You know it’ll be beneficial.”
“Yeah, but you’re not the one doing it. And it’s really tiring! Why do I have to do it?”
Geneva hesitated. This called for some delicate negotiations, and Ken was nowhere in sight. She thought for a second and then spoke quietly.
“If you do it, I’ll eat that awful stuff you like so much.”
She sensed Okasha growing excited.
“Xelca meat? You promise?”
Geneva grimaced. She hated xelca meat. But Okasha loved the stuff. Especially if it was fried up in lots of grease. Geneva liked pasta, but Okasha hated the stuff. To Geneva, it was home cooking and delicious if done right. But the Selphid didn’t like grainy foods. It was a sore point that often resulted in them eating pasta with xelca meat, which both could agree on.
“I promise. I’ll even ask Kirana to make some.”
“And buy it fresh!”
The young Italian woman sighed, but with resignation.
“Deal.”
“Alright then! Here I go! You don’t mind if I do it now, do you? Keep walking—I’ll try not to make it affect your legs. Okay, how long per muscle? I know, I know—full body workout. And that core thing you keep talking about.”
“Thank you.”
Geneva felt Okasha moving slightly through her body, and then she felt her leg muscles suddenly contract. Her stride didn’t change, but suddenly her muscles were working in her leg. Geneva didn’t feel much more beyond the movement though. She heard Okasha’s voice in her ears.
“Exercise, exercise, move that muscle, suppress that lactic acid. Boring. Move again, move again…”
The Selphid was singing a childlike nonsense song as Geneva felt her moving the muscles in her body. Tensing them, pulling and stressing and really just damaging them to induce the same effects as if Geneva was giving her arms, legs, and core a vigorous workout. But the Selphid was far more advanced than any workout regime; she could even play with the hormones and induce the growth needed for Geneva to gain muscle in the right places.
And that place was everywhere. From the legs, Okasha moved up to Geneva’s thighs and stomach, working out her abdomen which had been mostly fat until recently, her upper arms, and even her neck. Not too vigorously; Geneva had no desire to be some kind of inhuman body builder, no matter if Okasha thought she could do it. But she did think being in prime physical shape would be very handy, and a Selphid was the easiest way to that goal.
In fact, Geneva felt a bit guilty sometimes. She was gaining abdominal muscles at an extraordinary rate. Any beach-going narcissist back in her world would kill for a Selphid to manage their bodies like Okasha did hers. It wasn’t just vanity—okay, it was a bit of vanity—but as Okasha concentrated on Geneva’s arms, she did the truly important work. Geneva wanted her arms to be stronger.
Her hands especially. Geneva was aware that a surgeon’s hands and techniques could change the outcome of a surgery, so she’d asked Okasha to figure out a way to give her more muscular strength, more fine control. And the Selphid had managed just that. Not only could she improve things like Geneva’s grip strength, she could tell exactly what parts of Geneva’s body were sore and redirect her body’s resources to deal with the problems.
“In some ways, Selphids are the answer to every biological issue we’ve been seeking. Pacemaker, nanobots—a Selphid surpasses modern technology in countless ways.”
Geneva muttered to herself. She sensed Okasha push her hands open and give her a thumbs up.
“We are useful, aren’t we? But this is dangerous, Geneva. Not for your body—but if other Selphids started doing it. Not everyone’s like me.”
“Not as ethical?”
The Selphid’s voice grew serious as she worked Geneva’s hands, making them twitch as Geneva shoved them in her pockets.
“No. Not by far. If I wanted to control you, I could. And with a living body, I could do a lot more than what other Selphids can. I could Rampage without issue since I can heal your body. And if you had a [Warrior]’s body, it would be even stronger. I’ve been thinking about that.”
Geneva shivered. Okasha felt it and hurried to reassure her.
“I wouldn’t! Ever! I meant that in the sense that I can see why a living body is so dangerous. It makes Selphids more powerful than other species. It’s too tempting. If we started doing it again, it would lead to the Selphid Empire, I’m sure.”
The Selphid Empire. A time when Selphids had ruled over other races. Yes, Okasha was right. That was a problem. Still, Geneva spoke mildly.
“But I trust you. You could have taken my body if you wished to. Instead, you share it. You let me have control. Why? Why be so…kind?”
For a second, the Selphid paused. Then she spoke simply.
“You swore an oath not to kill. I have my own.”
Geneva’s heart jumped. Okasha squeezed her hand gently, a gentle pressure on her nerves, as if Okasha was holding her hand. The two walked on.
This was why it worked. Because they could get along. Two chance roommates in a single body turned out to be friends. It was luck. Geneva said nothing more. But her spirits rose, and Okasha knew. The Selphid kept working her body, and as promised, Geneva stopped by a meat vendor on the way back.
“Xelca meat! Good when it’s hot, edible when it’s not! Get a stick, three coppers! Five coppers for two sticks!”
That was a new slogan. And catchy. All the meat vendors were yelling it. Geneva had to smile as she paid for some xelca meat. That was Lizardfolk for you. Give them an idea and they’d run away with it.
“Hey, Geneva! You’re back! What’s that you’ve got?”
“Xelca meat. Kirana, can you make a little dish with it? Please—ah—please fry it up.”
Geneva sighed. Unbidden, her mouth opened again.
“And can you make it extra greasy?”
“With vegetables, naturally.”
“Not that you need too many.”
“I prefer Yellats.”
“But you really don’t need to add them. Just meat is fine. Actually, deep-fried meat would be—”
“Horrendous. So we—I’ll just have some fried meat to go along with whatever you’re making—”
“A lot of fried meat.”
“But not too much, because I’m sure you already have a meal in mind and I’d be delighted to have that.”
“Oh. Right. Of course.”
The look on Kirana’s face as Geneva delivered that monologue was priceless. Daly nearly laughed himself sick as he covered for Geneva—only he and a few others knew her secret. Even the regular Earthworlders had no idea—it was just too risky for anyone to find out about Okasha. The Indian girl took the xelca meat anyways and promised to turn it into something special. Daly grinned at her, but didn’t mention Okasha out loud.
“I’ll say this, it’s nice having Kirana cooking. She knows enough vegetarian dishes to keep our picky eaters happy—and they’re tasty for us meat eaters too! Dinner should be ready in a few. You want to sit? Ken’s still talking. Lips of gold, that one.”
“Of course.”
Guiltily, Geneva realized she’d been moping rather than acting like a responsible leader. She followed Daly back into the apartment and tried to actually contribute rather than drag everyone down. That meant, sadly, that she had to rely on Okasha to do some of the talking.
——
That night, the United Nations ate like champions. In that they ate a lot, talked noisily, and were about as raucous and noisy as any group of young adults. It wasn’t for everyone; Geneva knew that some people ate leftovers in smaller groups, but the act of socialization was important. Everyone she looked at had a job. Even if some had vacation days like Andel, or were off-duty like the Bushrangers, they worked for a living. It changed them.
Gone, gone were the young men and women who had wandered into Baleros. The ones before her were still growing and still immature at times—like Dawson, who was one of the older ones—but they also had a level of emotional awareness that others their age might lack.
There were no adults to run to, no one to solve their problems but themselves. Paige and Daly broke up fights, but the Earthworlders had to resolve problems themselves. Some didn’t, but most rose to the challenge. As such, Geneva felt oddly at home, as if the young man of sixteen years old was a friend in his last year of medical college talking with her over his xelca meat mixed with curry.
“Hey, anyone want a drink? I’ve got some cheap, er—I think it’s a rum? Came off one of the boats! Not that crap they sell at the markets that’ll kick you off your ass and then on your back, but it’s still strong stuff! Watch yourselves, mind. If you’ve got work—”
Daly’s warning went unheeded as a shout went up and most of the table raised their glasses. He went around dishing out the alcoholic drink. Geneva had a glass herself—she watched as a girl of fifteen had a small shot mixed with a fruit juice.
No one raised an eyebrow. Alcohol was necessary. It helped take the edge off, and aside from Americans, most of the Earthworlders had tried alcohol. And it had the other effect of taking the most tired off to their beds after dinner. Full stomachs, excitement, and a bit of drink—people dropped off left and right.
There were some who stayed up, like the Bushrangers who weren’t working, but they’d had their fill of Ken’s stories enough not to groan too hard when Daly looked around and announced that the kitchen in the west apartment was now off-limits.
He’d chosen it because it had a door. Daly stood up as Geneva got to her feet. He approached her, smiling, but with a hint of reserve.
“Time for our chat. But, uh, Geneva, I know this is an important meeting, but Michael—you know, from Spain?—he’s worked up some cards. Wood, but we wanted to play some games. If you wanted to talk, we could do that before—”
Geneva was determined not to bring the group down. And in fact, this suggestion appealed to her. So she cut Daly off with a nod.
“Fine by me. But bring the alcohol. We might as well make a proper game of it.”
Daly’s surprised smile was enough of a reward. That was how Geneva found herself sitting at a table, playing on wooden, painted cards with Siri, Daly, Paige, Ken, and Aiko. They represented the United Nation’s leadership—although Luan was as yet missing. Siri was a new addition, but Daly explained her presence simply.
“She’s the best of us Bushrangers and a solid head. If I’m ever unable to take over, I’d trust Siri to make the right calls. Anyone object?”
No one did. Ken did look around, though, with a small frown.
“If Siri is Daly’s, um, backup, then Paige should be allowed to nominate someone. Is there anyone you would recommend we listen to, Paige?”
Daly hesitated as he shuffled the thin, wood cards that Michael had made. They were simple, but even the act of shuffling them made some at the table perk up.
“Dunno about the other guys. Dawson’s a fighter, but he’s a bit iffy sometimes. Paige?”
