Airomem

“What you did was downright stupid!” Shouted Airomem’s father back at her apartment, where he had come as soon as he had heard news of the incident,  “It could have gotten you killed, and worse, it could have started a full on attack!  Airomem, this is not behaviour conducive to Lear survival Nor your own!”

He paced her short floor, biting his lip as she sat on her bed.

“The other tribes need to know we’re a power to be reckoned with,”  Responded Airomem, “They need to know not to attack us.”

“They do know that, Airomem!  If anything, it’s best that they forget it, and forget us entirely!  The Agrarians and Aquarians know one way to deal with fear, an instinct that has been bred into their cultures – to attack, and to destroy.  You must understand, Airomem, that they are not like us.  They have little order, they thrive in chaos.  Their attacks against us are rarely planned, and nearly always are a faction broken off from the whole.  To send a message like that only gives them cause to unify against us.  No, it is better that they forget our existence than to remember and do act.”

“But you said it yourself, father!”  Retorted Airomem, and gestured out of the window to where the stars lay beyond, “You said that we are coming to the end of the journey!  And when we do, we won’t have the doors and bottlenecks anymore to protect us!”

She stared at her father, waiting for his response, her chin high and her eyes blazing.  But instead he stared past her to the window, his mouth slightly open, the starlight mingling with the grey in his hair.  

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“What’s wrong?”  Airomem asked, as his eye widened as she turned her head to trace his gaze.  But she only saw darkness accented by the lights on the other side of the ship, in addition to the flickers of movement from within its windows.  Then her father reached a hand into his pocket, uncrinkling an old piece of paper, and flattening it against the window.

“Look,”  He whispered, the color drained from his cheeks, his other hand taking her chin and pointing her face into space, past the paper.  Past the seven points shaped like a ring that were inscribed on the paper, “Look.”

And towards a cluster of seven stars in a ring the size of her thumbnail, glowing from the depths of the beyond.

“Airomem,”  He whispered, crumpling the paper within his fist, “Airomem, we’re here.”

***

Airomem watched the ring deep into the night, unsure whether she could tell it was getting larger or if it was her own imagination.

If what her father said was true, then they would soon be leaving the ship behind.  They would soon be emerging into a new world.  And they soon might be sharing it with those who threatened to end their existence with every chance they were given.

She swallowed and let her eyes wander, straying to a window at the other end of the ship.  Usually a farmer filled that window, working the fields nearly every day, his own gaze occasionally meeting hers, his actions just barely visible through the visible portions of the windows.  In the past she had tried to sign to him, but he had only stared back before returning to the soil.  Perhaps he was too far away to understand, or the light made her own figure too difficult to see.  And only occasionally would she get a good glimpse of him, only when he crossed the windows just right, his silhouette fleeting.

He didn’t look like the Agrarians- from what she could tell his cheeks were not puckered, and his face was not gaunt.  And he moved slowly, methodically, with purpose, unlike the Agrarians and Aquarians that twitched and jerked when they walked.  Surely the farmers on that end of the ship would be different, like the Lear themselves.  Like distant cousins, that had survived apart, but were really the same.

At least, she hoped.

The Lear would need allies.