Cham served as drill leader. Eye on Sky translated for the Brothers.
“We’re going to get used to each other, get formally introduced,” Cham said. “You can call me coach.”
The humans hooted and jumped around, pretending to shoot a few hoops or pass and intercept a clothes- wad football.
“First thing is, we have to know what we can do, and what we feel like, in terms of strength, resilience, where we’re vulnerable, where we can be hurt, how we can help. Got that?”
Silence and attention indicated assent.
“We have no idea what we’ll be getting into this time. Everything we’ve drilled for, all we’ve trained for, may have to be turned upside down soon. That’s my feeling, anyway, and I think the bosses agree. Looks like Leviathan is going to be a corker. Target-rich, the old military folks on Earth used to call it. So we have to work together closely.”
Rich smells like a seashore filled the room. Martin noted a few who seemed to find the smells unpleasant: Rex Live Oak was among them, still made uneasy by the Brothers.
Harpal stood beside Martin. He had not said a word since resigning. At least he showed no resentment against Martin. Martin was grateful for that.
“First exercise,” Cham said. “A carry. Two humans will take a single Brother across the schoolroom. The Brother will then carry the two humans back. I don’t have any idea how you’ll do these things; just do them, and learn.”
Cham and Eye on Sky picked the teams. Each team had two Brothers and two humans; Martin and Ariel teamed with two braids, one a small individual called Twice Grown, the other a medium called Makes Clear. Neither of the braids had honed their human communication skills, and both often resorted to odors rather than human words, which added to the confusion and—Ariel seemed to think—to the fun. Martin had not seen her laugh so much before.
“We have a new second in command,” Cham said gleefully. “The Brothers will pardon me if I push rank forward. Martin, your team goes first.”
Makes Clear slithered forward. “Carry long ways,” he suggested, then coiled like an upright spring. Martin and Ariel tried to find safe places to grab him, but the cords squirmed beneath their grasping hands.
“Be
“Not accustomed,” Makes Clear sighed. The others watched with interest as Martin finally found the least ticklish section of a cord, about three quarters toward the rear, near the most firmly gripping claws. The skin of the cord changed texture beneath his hands, from hard slick leather to easy-to-grip rubber.
Makes Clear straightened and stiffened. Ariel fumbled, recovered her grip, and they hefted Makes Clear to hip level. “Let’s go while we’ve still got him!” Martin shouted, and they started to run across the floor.
Makes Clear vented a particularly sharp turpentine smell that stung Martin’s eyes. To let go and rub his eyes would be disastrous; but he was almost blind. Ariel was little better off. “Where are we?” Martin asked.
“You tell me!”
“I we tell! I we tell!” Makes Clear chirped. “Left, right, right.”
“What?”
“Go to the left more,” Ariel said. They narrowly missed a line of Brothers, who arched like startled serpents, adding more turpentine scent.
Martin strained his head back, teeth bared, eyes almost shut, arm muscles corded with effort. The Brother weighed at least eighty kilos. Ariel was strong, but her grip was failing, and Makes Clear slipped lower on her side. Just as they finished the trip across the chamber, they all fell and slid into the wall.
Makes Clear rustled and rose upright, then swiftly bent down, unlimbering two pairs of cords along the sides of his upper body. The cords’ claws grabbed Martin’s and Ariel’s arms and legs, and Makes Clear hoisted them from the ground with a loud buzz of effort, tossed them, and caught them around their mid-sections.
“Shit!” Ariel cried out. Makes Clear reversed course and undulated along the weaving track they had followed with comic exactness, again forcing his fellows to arch. Martin felt the claws pinching deep into skin and muscle and grimaced with pain.
The return trip was much faster. The traction of multiple cord claws along a Brother’s underside was truly wonderful, like a living tank tread, or a supercharged caterpillar. Makes Clear lowered himself and they scrambled to their feet beside Twice Grown.
“They we did well?” Twice Grown asked, his head rearing to chest level on Martin, smelling like stale fruit.
“Well enough,” Martin said, recovering his breath and feeling his ribs.
“Better next when,” Twice Grown said, weaving toward Ariel and tapping her arm with an extended cord.
“That’s affection,” Martin said, looking to see her reaction.
“I know,” Ariel said, glaring.
Cham announced the next team, and the exercise worked its way to a rather dull conclusion. By the end, they knew much more about each other, and even the most reluctant—Rex among them—had been forced to come in contact with, and to cooperate with, the Brothers.
Martin sat with his back against the wall. Ariel approached him, examining his face cautiously. “May I?” she asked.
He gestured for her to sit beside him.
“Hans didn’t pick Rex,” she said quietly.
In the middle of the schoolroom, several men and women showed the Brothers where they had been bruised, and suggested more gentle methods of handling. The Brothers, in broken English and with smells of onion and fresh bread, lodged more courteous, but no less pointed, complaints.
“My luck,” Martin said. “Getting ready to jump all over me again?”
“You’re a prick, a real prick,” Ariel said. A child-like tone of pique took some of the sting out of her words. “You don’t deserve my anger.” She squatted, lay her back against the wall, straightened her legs one at a time, and slumped beside him.
Rosa had stayed apart from the exercises; Hans had privately instructed Cham not to include her. She seemed dreamy, unfocused; Martin saw her leave the room. “How’s Rosa?” he asked.
“Like a volcano,” Ariel answered. “Hans isn’t helping her any. He may think he is, but she knows what he’s doing.”
“What do you think he’s doing?”
“Typical masculine shit. ‘What she needs is a good slicking.’ ”
“What do you suggest we should do?”
“About Rosa?” She lifted her shoulders, inhaled. “She has a mission. She doesn’t pay attention to me now— I’m not in her circle, if you haven’t noticed.”
“I noticed.”
“She doesn’t pay attention to anybody, really, except Hans—she’s like a tape-recorder with Hans.”
“You said she knows what he’s up to.”
“She’s using him as much as he’s using her. He’s given her official status, Martin. She’s strengthening her position. If Hans thinks he’s smarter than Rosa… But you’re co-opted now, aren’t you? You can’t talk about Hans or what he’s thinking.”
“I didn’t ask to be second.”
“Right,” Ariel said, nodding emphatically. “Do you disapprove of Hans?”
Martin didn’t answer.
“Right,” she said again, and stood. “Everything’s working out with the Brothers. But there are some of us besides Rosa who are on the edge, and being with the Brothers isn’t helping. You know the ones I mean. They’re traveling without any compass, Martin.”
“Thank you for believing I have some intelligence.”
“You’re welcome.” She rubbed her hands on her pants and looked at him with an expression between concern and irritation. “I know you won’t swallow the bait,” she said. “Spit it back. Rosa isn’t the most dangerous person on this ship.” Martin pretended to ignore her.
Rex lost it first.
