Page 36 of Taken to Heimo
I race as quickly as my flat sandals will carry me down the main street of the old town up to the hill where the new houses are being constructed. The Antikythera Council members are first to receive the Voraxian-built homes, complete with all the amenities of Voraxia’s technology, coupled with some colony innovations of our own.
But I’m not headed to the Antikythera houses, seated high up on the knoll in a red dust-colored material that is impenetrable to the sand and sun and never stains. They’re beautiful.Like tomb stones are beautiful.
My feet come up short as I glare up at the largest of the homes — well, the second largest after the house used by Miari, Raku and other xub’Raku when they’re visiting, as they are now. Just as large as theirs, this is only Mathilda’s and her granddaughter, Deena’s. I use my hand to shade my eyes from the suns’ rays as I stare.Mathilda, what have you done?
No. I’m not sure yet, so I can’t rush to any rash conclusions. That’s what I tell myself as I veer off of the main road and head to the squat, adobe house that my parents and brother share —myhouse, since it’s the only one that belongs to me. The place I stayed in on Qath? Well, that’s just a distant memory.
It should be.
Itwillbe.
My house was one of the largest homes in the colony until the Voraxians began construction — and it still is. With large windows made out ofrealglass dotting both the firstandsecond floors, it always seemed palatial compared to the ramshackle wooden home that Kiki lived in growing up, or the even more derelict tin shack Miari constructed for herself when she was old enough to move out of the orphanage.
Dust clings to the door when I knock and comes off on my sweaty hand. I had so looked forward to seeing my parents again, but as the door flies open and I take in the sight of my mother’s glowing, golden face, all I can feel is the pain of a betrayal that I wish I could dismiss…
But there are lives at stake.
“Svera!” She coos and how I’ve missed the sound of her voice. Her eyebrows crinkle together over her gently sloping nose. “What is it, sheifala? Your veil! Did it fall off? Do you need another? Habibi,” she calls over her shoulder, “Quickly fetch Svera a veil. Hers was…”
“Nox.” I shake my head.Be strong.I meet her gaze.Be brave.“Nox.”
Her eyes widen and her lips part, but before she can speak, I say, “I need to speak with you and dad. Right now.”
“Of…of course.” She opens the door and I step inside. When she closes it behind me and closes out the sunlight, I take a look around. My heart clenches. So much has happened and, here, nothing has changed.
The same leather futons are clustered around a shared eating table. It sits low to the ground and is made of a worn black wood that my grandfather stole from trees outside of the dome when he was young.
He was one of the hunters, then, but eventually was attacked by a small creature with sharp tusks. When he was brought back to the village, there was only one medic — my mother’s mother. After she healed him, she gave him a medical book her father had smuggled from the Antikythera satellite. He became her apprentice and they became great friends and their children, medics, who loved one another.
On the other side of the room a prayer mat is laid out, as if recently used. It is well worn, green, with beautiful calligraphy in the middle. Brought from the ancient world, it is my family’s most prized possession.
“Sheifala,” my father says, coming around the corner at the end of the hall. He starts at the sight of my hair and his gaze wanders down to my throat. The marks there are obvious. His hand comes to cover his heart and mine nearly breaks in the same moment. Both of them.
“Svera has something to speak with us about, habibi,” my mom says. “But first, you must tell us. Did everything go well with the birth? We heard sounds of celebration in the streets and assumed that it was a success.”
She clutches her nagoom cross, rubbing the beads worn, as mine are. She’ll pass those beads down to my future child, should I be so blessed, just as I’ll pass my own beads down to their child and so the cycle will continue and through the nagoom crosses, no life will ever be forgotten.
“Hexa,” I answer reflexively before switching to human. “I mean, yes. Miari and her mate have successfully brought new life into this universe.”
“Alhamdullah.” Chimes my father’s voice in time with my mother’s.
“Where is Ibra?”
“He went to lead prayer with Corane.” Good. He shouldn’t be here for this. “They pray for Miari’s safety. The entire colony has been in quite a state since she went into the medical center, hoping for her and the child. But you say the child was delivered safely? The…Rakuka?”
I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat that I can’t swallow past. I touch my hair again. The way my dad is staring at it makes me feel self-conscious.I better get used to it.
“Yes, mom. And in private, you can call the baby Dora.”
“The perfect name, mashallah,” my dad says, making the sign of the Tri-God over his chest and then kissing his fingertips.
I nod. My mom sniffles and I fight the urge to hug her…then I give into it. “For Miari’s mom.”
“Yes,” my own mom says, sounding weepy, “I know, sheifala, I know.”
She squeezes me back tight and I forget that I’m advisor to the Rakukanna and partially responsible for all of the lives of all of the humans and hybrids still left on this rock, rotating in orbit around Cxrian, which orbits itself around one of Voraxia’s suns. Instead, I remember that I am a human and that I, too, was a child once.
“Oh sheifala, you’re shaking. Come here.” And then more softly, my father whispers, “Whatever has happened, we will get through it together.” He means my hair and I wince. Tears grip the back of my eyes. He does not even know the depth of my depravity, but he’s already forgiven me for it.
