Ardulum by J.S. Fields

Author:J.S. Fields
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: coming of age, lgbt, lesbian, bisexual, space opera, science fiction, captivity, bonded
Publisher: NineStar Press

Chapter 14: Risalian Cutter 77

We’ve had no communication with intersects 20 through 25 in over three days. Scout ships sent to investigate have not returned. We are forced to conclude that Risal has lost control of the aforementioned borders.

—Intercepted communication from an unidentified Risalian cutter to the Markin Council, October 17th, 2060 CE

Emn awoke with weighted eyelids, blinking back the harsh, yellow light that streamed overhead. Next to her lay a basket filled with thick sticks of andal. Steam rose lazily from the branches, the smell of something in between cinnamon and syrup thick in the air. Emn was entranced. She sat up and buried her face in the steam, letting the thick tendrils obfuscate her vision and overwhelm her olfactory senses.

The smell brought back memories of her mother, of the dinners they shared together in their small room. Emn hadn’t had andal since—not properly prepared like this, at least. Would it taste as before? When she bit into a stem would the springwood crunch and the summerwood dribble fresh, white sap down her throat? Would the bark crumble on her tongue, adding a caramelized flavor that would linger long after she swallowed? Emn’s mouth watered. Raw andal was much tougher to chew, and while the sap still flowed, it left her more irritable than satiated. To be able to have the properly prepared variety was surreal, and she lingered for long moments in the aromatic draft of flavors and memories.

As the steam began to dissipate and the andal began to cool, Emn looked up, suddenly conscious of her surroundings. She was certainly in Risalian custody—there was no mistaking the architectural similarities and the aftertaste of extruded bioplastics. However, this room was different from the one she’d occupied with her mother. Instead of porous metal, the floor here was a solid sheet of silver. The walls and ceiling were identical—all cool, metallic surfaces joined with petrochemical plastics. Without the steam from the andal, the room stank of chemicals and volatile organic compounds. The smells lingered too long in Emn’s nose, irritating her mucosal membranes and causing her to sneeze repeatedly.

In an attempt to clear her sinuses, Emn put her face to the pot of andal, her nose touching a stem. The spicy aroma returned, however diluted, and helped her relax. She took a deep breath, held it, and then sat up, taking a look around the room. The most curious thing about her surroundings was the lack of cellulose. She couldn’t find the strands—the microfibrils—anywhere she looked. Releasing her inhalation and grumpily returning to normal breathing, Emn let her mind slip into the floor beneath her knees. Inside, she found nothing organic, unless she counted the extended history of the petrochemical sealant. It was the same in the walls and the ceiling, and in the mesh that sectioned the room in half, sealing her from the door.

Her concentration slipped as nausea rose up.

Hematoma, a dispassionate male voice said in her head. Minor blood collection due to cranial impact. No permanent damage.

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