Motion

by Karina Fabian - 

Dorran froze at the threshold to the hospital room, his feet refusing to obey his mind’s command to propel him past the sterilization field and to Bonina’s side.  Instead, he hovered, his fists clenched, his eyes roving her body, taking in the tubes and needles, straining to see some sign of motion.  In all the years they’d known each other, she’d never stopped moving.  Even asleep, she had shifted and kicked at the heavy hides on their bed.  Here, they’d cocooned her in sterile white sheets, and the only motion he saw was the rise and fall of her chest in time with the ventilator. 

Her parents had insisted on rushing her to the station, a land of metal and glass, machines and white.  So much white.  Sterile. Cold.  They’d tied her to machines that breathed for her, cleaned her blood, kept her fed, even cleansed her of the layer of dirt that inevitably worked into the skin of anyone who lived on Eclectia.  They’d preserved her life--but had anyone held her hand?

Why couldn’t he?

He held his hand before him, stained and grimed from a lifetime of mining.  He remembered the first time she’d held his hand between both of hers, pale and beautiful and fluttering.  Always in motion.  Now, she needed him to move, and he couldn’t.  Coward.

“Please.  I’m sorry.  I take it all back—every harsh word.  Just, please.  Move for me.”

Other Side of the Glass

by Karina Fabian -

The grouchy man in a lab coat looked away from the scanner he was holding and scowled down at her.

"What's she doing here?" he demanded in a grouchy voice.

Grandmother squeezed her hand. "Gerald, this is Trancy. She came with me to see the angels today."

The grouchy man curled up his nose like she smelled weird, but she'd taken her shower. He scolded her grandmother. "This facility is open twenty-five hours a day, thirty days a month--except for two hours every nine days."

"Which is when the biggest groups of angels gather," Grandmother replied. "This is when they're their most interesting."

"She can watch them on the vids like everyone else."

"She won't bother anyone."

Trancy smiled. She knew that tone. No one said "no" when Grandma used that tone.

And neither did Mr. Grouchy. "She'd better not." He sniffed in her direction, then turned away.

She decided she didn't like him.

Nonetheless, she did her very best to stay quietly at Grandmother's side while she helped the other researchers set up. Now and then, Grandma explained what they were doing, and how elusive the inhabitants of Eclectia's waters had been.

"Elusive?" Trancy rolled the word on her tongue.

"We don’t see them much," Grandmother defined.

"Except for times like these!" one man said cheerfully and bent down to point at one end of the window.

She watched the Angels, mesmerized, as the researchers started their observations.

"Looks like a school of thirty--a little bigger than lately, but not unusually so. Juveniles and adults."

"I still think we're on the path to some kind of maturation grounds."

"Then why do they stop? Every time?"

"We're a threat."

"We've not done anything to the Angels. No, we're just a curiosity--there! Look! The adult directs their attention to us."

"Which holds to my theory that they are training them to recognize us as a threat. See that one, racing from one end of the window to another? Obviously a territorial behavior. Five to one, one of them will press their mouth to the tank in some kind of display! In ten…nine…"

A moment later, credit chips passed hands. The same thing happened again as someone predicted that one would lash its tail against the tank.

But something else caught Trancy's eye.

"Grandma, we've seen that one before!" She pointed to one angel, whose fins had delicate yellow piping, lingering a ways from the rest.

Grandmother followed her gaze. "Why, I think we have--but not in a school."

Mr. Grouchy growled. "You just want to kill my migration theory! Well, we've got it recorded; we'll check. They're moving on to Crendal's group now.

"Bye!" Trancy waved.

The entire group gasped as the yellow-striped Angel waved back.

School Field Trip

by Karina Fabian -

"Stay close, children," Teacher said in her harried voice. "And do not touch."

Katha watched as his classmates grudgingly obeyed--until Teacher's eye was off them. Then they went back to the usual stupid tricks: shoving and horseplay. Gras stayed close to Teacher, but that didn't keep the bullies from snide remarks. The popular crowd looked bored except when flirting with each other, or what they thought passed for flirting. Only a handful actually paid attention. No wonder Teacher was harried.

Katha trailed behind and fought real boredom. He came here all the time. He knew so much more about these creatures than even Teacher, and yet every time he visited, he discovered something new about this fascinating species behind the glass. If he could just get away from the class! The creatures were their most uninteresting when a crowd watched them because they tended to turn and watch back. Boring!

Not to mention how stupid his classmates got. Like now, as Teacher turned her back to consult with their tour guide: Tourra started trying to engage one in a game of chase by racing from one end of the glass to another to see if any would follow. How original. Next someone would lick the glass, or worse, stick his open mouth on it--yep, Bourz. Figured.

Teacher turned around and shouted, "Quash! Quit banging that glass! How would you feel if someone banged on your house? Come along--time for the next exhibit."

The class grudgingly moved on, Katha with them. As he gave one last glance, he saw one of the creatures wave. He raised a fin and repeated the gesture, pleased that no one else had gotten to see.

When he grew up, he was going to devote his life to the study of these strange creatures who came from the Above and built their tank homes in his world.