Strange Noises Fiction by Rachel Greenham

“So what was that all about?” Sam asks later, when we finally get a chance to talk. It’s getting really hot now, and the footballers have given up to flake out in the shade of the trees at the edge of the beach. I’m trying to sort out the mess that Ateis has made of her hair in only a few hours ashore, while Ateis plays with and narrates her ‘treasure,’ which seems to comprise mostly shells and interesting pebbles. Some have been worn into rings, which at least looks a little like Jeodine coinage.

Benitese and her baby are with us too. She and Sam had become friends during the last few Market stops. I often see them spending time together. It turns out that Beni has been finding life on a small ship with Deregan, the father of her child, to be not entirely the joyous adventure she’d hoped. It’s actually the second largest ship in the fleet, but when you’re used to life ashore a ship can seem awfully small, especially when you’re one half of a failing relationship. She’s been talking about getting off when we get back to Port Denhall in a few months’ time, and wishes it would be sooner.

Right now she’s asleep, her head pillowed in Sam’s lap, her baby asleep at her breast. They look the absolute picture of contentment.

“What?” I ask.

“Lotan.”

I sigh. “Master Gerat wants him off his ship. Fareis expects me to come up with a solution.”

Sam thinks about that for a moment. “Shit.”

Lotan has taken himself off again, brooding alone somewhere.

“What are you going to tell her?” Sam asks.

“I’ve no idea. She was talking about putting him and you and Master Tehilan on our sloop.”

“Uh… Why me?”

“So he’d have someone on board he cares enough about to actually be useful, I think. So he’d actually try. I talked her out of it.”

Sam gives me a look that says, ‘now I’m really impressed.’ If I didn’t know better I’d think she was serious.

I shrug. “She’s indulging me. I kinda feel I need to come up with a better idea though. She said… She said you can’t stay on the familyship too long, you’ll lose your chance at having a baby. I told her you didn’t want children—”

“I never said I didn’t want children,” Sam says, surprising me. “I just said I couldn’t handle being pregnant; giving birth, all that stuff.” Pause. “She wants to chuck me off?”

“No. She just wanted to prepare me, I think. Wants me to be ready to let you go.”

“I’m not seeing any leash,” she says, with a smile to me.

But I can see how she’s let the baby grab onto her little finger. She will ache.

“You can see Gerat’s point,” Sam says, changing the subject back to Lotan. “No-one wants a body on board that doesn’t care if the ship stays afloat. That’s just no fun at all.”

“He doesn’t think anything’s real,” I say. “He doesn’t think anyone’s real, except us. They’re just game pieces. NPCs.”

“He’s probably not sure about us,” Sam observes. “There’s a word for this. ‘Sociopathic.’” She bites her lip, thinking. “Lotan,” she says, carefully enunciating the name. She means the character. “Lotan is a fighter. Neutral to lawful good, superficially tortured. That’s what Dave always plays.” I feel queasy hearing Sam talk about the game, now. “Probably got a big honour thing about protecting innocents, that’s why killing an innocent was so bad… So bad the only way he can deal with it is by convincing himself nothing’s real.”

“I’d figured that much—”

“No, Lotan doesn’t want it to be real,” Sam stresses again. “We’ve all integrated traits from our… from our characters. There’s no reason to suppose Dave’s any exception. Lotan is a big part of who he is now, whether he likes it or not. And Lotan is a fighter. That’s his talent. That’s what he does best, and he does it to protect innocent people from the sort of threats that respond to a big fuck-off sword. Even without everything else that’s happened I’m not surprised he can’t hack it on a nice peaceful marketeer.”

“And Dave?”

Sam shrugs, careful not to disturb Beni. “Is there a difference? I mean, look at us. I can’t tell what’s Paul and what’s Tani any more, can you?”

“Taniel wanted to be a shaman,” I say quietly.

“Yeah, and Samila liked cock,” Sam says, even more quietly.

I give her a wide-eyed look and cover Ateis’s ears theatrically. We’ve been speaking in English, but it’s just too perfect a moment to pass up.

“What?” Ateis wants to know.

“Nothing, just a joke,” I reassure her. “Come on, let me finish your hair.” I realise I’ve long finished combing it out and I’m putting it up into bunches. “Hey, you want some more water?” I ask her, already grabbing the leather flask.

“Okay.”

I give her the flask and she drinks for what seems like ages.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” I ask her in English.

She ignores me, finally handing back the flask.

I shrug at Sam. “So, um, what? Do you find yourself looking at guys and thinking, ‘cor he’s a bit of all right?’”

“No, fuck off!” Sam says, blushing. “I’m not gay, okay?”

I decide it’s best to talk about something else. “Kerilas let himself be killed because he couldn’t let that integration happen,” I say.

“Yeah, ’cause Kerilas was an evil fucker who did things James couldn’t live with, and knew he’d do them again.”

These words have darkened my mood so much that Ateis notices and decides her job is to snuggle back into me.

I hold onto her.

“Just saying,” I say, “I hope you don’t feel as bad about being you as he did.”

Sam looks out across the lagoon thinking for a long time.

“No, I don’t,” she says eventually. “Don’t know how much of that is the oil keeping me sane.”

The oil, synthesised in the ship-tree’s fruit under the Satthei’s direction and used for almost everything; the oil whose subtle scent permeates everything on board, protects the young Neri from being prematurely induced and keeps my own maturation in check, also works on human bodies. It seems to counteract the effect of sex hormones. To Sam, this is good. It means her periods and hormonal mood swings have stopped and she’s physically unable to conceive, not that anyone else on board would have the slightest inclination, or physical ability, all of which is fine by her. She says she feels a lot calmer and more stable since coming aboard the familyship.

“Is it that bad being a woman?” I ask.

Another long pause. Sam doesn’t look away from the lagoon. “You know,” she says eventually, “coming from you, that’s a fucking stupid question.” She gives me a hard look and I realise I’ve said something horribly wrong.

“It’s not the same,” I blurt out. She just gives me that stare, waiting for me to say more. “Samila,” I explain. “Part of you always was Samila. And the brain,” I say, suddenly remembering something Fareis said earlier, and understanding what it means. “It’s like me: Why do I behave like a stupid kid half the time even though I’m old enough to know better? On both sides. It’s because my brain – this brain – is a child’s brain. Your brain – your brain is a woman’s brain. They reckon transsexuals happen ’cause the brain develops one way and the body goes the other. In the womb. But you’ve got Samila’s brain. You’ve got a woman’s brain so—”

“So my feelings mean nothing?” Sam interrupts. “So I’m supposed to just shut up and be happy?”

“No I—” But that was exactly what I was saying, I realise. “I should shut up, I’m being stupid,” I say.

“Yes.”

“Sorry. I’m really sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to… you know.”

“Oh come on, don’t go bishoujo-eyes on me.”

“What?” I blink at her a couple of times.

“You know.”

And I do know. I remember. I shift around so Sam can’t see my eyes. Ateis is looking at me, concerned, doing her own bishoujo-eyes thing, so I can see Sam’s point. Ateis looks almost ludicrously anime now with the bunches in her hair as well. “What happened?” she asks.

“I said something stupid,” I explain to her. “I hurt Sam’s feelings.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m an idiot.” “Do you want to be alone?” I ask Sam in English.

She nods. Well, alone with Beni and the baby anyway. And that might be for the best, in the long term, I think, thinking how Fareis might approve of such a thought.

“Okay. Come on Ateis, let’s go for a walk.”

“Okay,” Ateis says, catching the necessity of the moment.

“Let’s get your tunic on,” I say first, grabbing it from where Ateis dumped it earlier. “It’s dry enough now.”

“I don’t want to!”

“Yes you do. Remember the last time you got sunburnt?”

Elves, it turns out, do get sunburn; it just doesn’t cause any long term damage because the tissues regenerate fully. (I’ve got a feeling we actually can’t get cancer.) But in the meantime it hurts, and it itches, just as badly as it does for a human, judging from her suffering last time. It turns out she does remember, because she stands and lets me get her long tunic over her head and her arms into the long sleeves. I grab her hat and mine, and put them on our respective heads and stand up.

“What have you done with my hair?” she wants to know as we walk out into the sunlight and the wall of heat. And I thought it was hot in the shade.

“I put it in bunches, do you like it?”

“It feels strange.” She shifts the hat over them awkwardly.

“If it’s a problem we’ll take them out,” I promise.