Michael Siemsen - Exigency

Onjr stole a glance his way, then back to the heater.

Fitchsher went on. “Leeg birthed Udartsh. Udartsh Lesser. Udartsh no turn. Udartsh die small. Leeg birthed Fitchsher. Fitchsher Lesser. Fitchsher turn. Fitchsher big.” His shining eyes turned to Minnie. “Leeg birth Greater baby. Greater baby turn. Greater baby big. Greater baby kill Fitchsher, kill Onjr.”

Leeg turned her slumped head a degree, and uttered with a feeble, defeated voice, “Greater baby kill Leeg.”

Minnie unclasped her sore fingers from the MW, curled her arms around her knees, and pulled them to her chest. Fitchsher’s gaze drifted back to the heater, unblinking eyes alight with emotion. Minnie didn’t think she was only imagining it, or projecting her own feelings: the bleak bewilderment, the absolute horror of knowing with certainty that one’s sibling—and for Leeg and Onjr, one’s own child—would grow, mature, and eventually slaughter their entire family.

Their afvrik handler, Heshper, was a real hole. Even the fourteen crewmembers seemed to despise her, for as much as a labor class Threck would reveal such feelings. Their responses were usually subtle—a delayed response to an order, or reconfirming they’d heard her orders correctly, voicing their objection in the least direct manner possible.

“You two: go down, find bottom-grabbers, and bring back up. You that way, you the other.”

A beat.

A crewmember replies, “We go separate. Down there… for bottom-grabbers.”

“Yes,” Heshper confirms.

“In this water, away from harbor safety, we go down alone.”

“Yes. Quickly!”

And then they comply.

Aether had a firm grasp on her own conflicts with the handler. Heshper had legitimate complaints, and Aether wished she’d been exhaustively explicit about their travel needs with Massoss Pakte. Not only had misunderstandings created an antagonism between Aether and Heshper, their ETA to the recovery location had been tremendously underestimated.

Fishing and exploratory voyages had never been restricted to the ocean surface. In fact, afvrik spent very little time above water. The bands of rope that crossed the top of every afvrik were used by handlers and crew as anchoring points. The crew coiled their legs several times around these holds , and the afvrik would swim as usual, with only slight drag from the tagalongs’ profiles. Threck even slept this way underwater—quite enjoyably, it seemed—tapping into some primal comfort source. Submerged, afvrik rotated so their broad fins faced behind them, their thrust system obviously at its optimal output with this orientation. Compared to propulsion on the surface, it was the difference between powerboat and paddle.

Further, afvrik had to eat. Go figure. Normally, this was accomplished by the creature descending to lightless depth, opening its mouth wide, and drifting downward over dense concentrations of tiny sea life, much like many whales or the whale shark. This fact wasn’t shared until well after losing sight of land, when Heshper told Aether and Pablo that it was time to “stick” so the afvrik could feed. While the suits and supply bins were fully sealable, and they technically could have gone under long enough for their vessel to feed, the skimmer strapped to the holds at the center of the afvrik’s back eliminated immersion from the realm of possibility. Skimmers were weather resistant, but neither Aether nor Pablo believed they could survive a full plunge.

Heshper had threatened to turn around, call off the voyage. Aether had to repeatedly emphasize the conditions of her arrangement with the Thinkers and Council, highlighting the fact that hundreds of Makers and Materials workers were on their way north to begin construction. That all these moving parts hinged on this rescue mission.

Three days later, without any warning, Heshper had called for the second afvrik to approach, ordering everyone, including Aether and Pablo, to untie the skimmer, tent, and supply bins, and move it all over. Heshper was simple done with this ridiculous arrangement and the admittedly arduous task of hand-feeding their afvrik. To make things worse, apparently the second afvrik had been flaunting its freedom, swimming below them, twirling around, and emitting the equivalent of yummy sounds upon ascending from a feeding.

Halfway through transferring the bins, Tunhkset, the second afvrik’s handler, couldn’t keep her animal at the surface. It submerged a couple meters before anything had been strapped down. Most of the bins floated, and the two that sank were quickly retrieved by swift crewmembers. Unhkset apologized (more to Aether than Heshper), submitting her afvrik’s relative youth for clemency, followed by a curt commendation of Heshper’s masterful handling skills.

Now, eleven days into the journey—the past four spent following along the Hynka Country coast—and after several deviations in course to fish in “legendary waters,” Aether had lost her patience on enough occasions that Heshper was no longer speaking to her.

Heshper popped up in the frothy wash at the afvrik’s front, deftly found her footing, and walked to Pablo, sitting against the front of the skimmer. “How much longer north?” Heshper asked, her wide siphon holes sputtering water. “She is getting too cold. Obviously, submerging would help.”

After days of acting as go-between, Pablo no longer seemed concerned with his Livetrans proficiency, and he’d caught on to the key ingredients of Aether’s responses to the point where she now rarely needed to send them to him. And Heshper never seemed to catch on that she was being fed the same formulaic appeasements.

Lying on the skimmer pad, mostly sheltered from wind and mist behind the console riser, Aether saw the Livetrans pop up in her fone, and rolled over on her mat cushion, watching the exchange from the skimmer’s side.

“We apologize for the magnificent afvrik’s discomfort,” Pablo’s PA announced. “And our gratitude to you for your patience and dedication cannot be overstated.” Aether smiled. His BS placation skills were flourishing. “It appears that today is still our arrival day. Only three gaps remain.” He’d also mastered their gauge of daylight time—imprecisely calculated via the sun’s movement, measured with tentacle clubs held together in the air with an almond-shaped gap between the pads.

Hold on, Aether thought. Three gaps?

Was that all? Little more than an hour?

“This is certain? Three and we begin return?”

Vigilant, Aether zipped out an M.

AETHER: Hold reply!

AETHER: Remind her three to arrive, then uncertain time for us to fly ashore and search.

PABLO: Got it.

As if this oft-repeated detail had never been conveyed, Heshper put on a histrionic show of exasperation before sending a crewmember to notify the other afvrik of this “troubling new report.”

On the bright side, Heshper was well aware of their distance from home, and so the threats of turning back had long since diminished to halfhearted grumbling.

Aether stood and observed the coastline 5K off their starboard side, the indistinct cliffs faintly bobbing with the swells. This close to the coordinates, she could very well be passing her people. Though both John and Minnie were sticklers for detail, if the 50 thparallel crossed the shore at inhospitable terrain, they’d likely make camp somewhere south of point zero.

She magnified, hazy cliffs sharpening into rich, layered textures of strata—bands of rock, soil, ice, and eroding permafrost. Intimidating surf crashed against a sheer face, white spray misting the air above. If the shoreline remained this treacherous over the next 10K, they’d undoubtedly camp elsewhere.