IN A SOFT, SHY VOICE BARELY HER OWN

© Dana W. Paxson 2005

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IN A SOFT, SHY VOICE BARELY HER OWN

1561 4D

Her face was twisted sideways; the blast had flung her against the rock face and left her neck wrenched and immobile. When her eyes opened, pain and fear made her stare rigidly at the two surviving corpos, their blue-and-gray uniforms shredded and mud-slopped with their landing, as they approached her with knives drawn. They smiled fiercely; their eyes tasted her terror.

A huge andro, pale-haired and perfectly-muscled, came silently up behind and between the two men, took their necks and squeezed hard. A popping sound: their heads fell over like picked fruit. He dropped the men like rags and came to her and put his face near hers.

She had never before seen an andro kill a human.

A candied sourness tainted his breath. When he smiled she started to count his crooked teeth. She passed out.

When she woke up, her neck worked again. He held her on his lap in the cab of a large van, and he was humming a song from Arcus Coll in three harmony parts. It was a song her mother had sung her a thousand times.

“I’m Grendel,” he said. “You turned the vote at the coll meeting.” He pointed a long, powerful arm up toward the top of the outcrop. “I heard the shots and arrived up there just after the van blew.”

She sat up. “What happened to Andresko?”

He lowered his blond-furzed head, scowling. “They cooked him. I took the effects I could find for his family and buried what was left, up there.” He pointed again to the outcrop. His near-white skin seemed old and weather-beaten, odd in an andro.

She stared at him. “In stone?”

“In a depression. I laid a big slab on it. Nothing’s gonna dig him up. He was Arcus, wasn’t he, like you? I got here just too late for him.” He handed her her partner’s rings and hung his head, huge shoulders massing as he massaged his face in his hands.

“You weren’t too late for me. Look, did you care that much about him? He was my partner, and he was good. Now I’ve got to go back to his family and give them his rings and the rest.” Ezzar tried to stop the words, but they tumbled out anyway. She cursed herself inwardly.

“He was doing what I want to do. That puts him high up for me. I’ll go with you to the family if you want.”

A rain shower started falling. At that moment she started to love this big man. When the rain stopped, and they walked up to where their autocarts were hidden, she sang him the same song he’d hummed, in a soft, shy voice barely her own.

“I’m calling you ‘Rennie',” she told him. “I like it much better than ‘Grendel'.”

He nodded, chuckling as if he heard some inner joke, and then smiled crookedly and gently at her, his eyes blue and sparkling; she forgot everything else for a moment. Five days later, they were lovers, and partners on the road to war.

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