AUTHOR'S NOTE: In an earlier draft I thought it would be neat to have a town meeting. Only later did I decide that a small group at the living room table would provide more drama and less politics. Not to mention that pacing dragged to a halt. Still, it was a hoot to have Water trying to act like everybody else. SERIOUS SPOILERS ahead.
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“You’re the siren?”
Scott smiled at the question. Having Water curled up next to his foldout chair on the front row was his mother’s idea, but getting the Song Guard to hold a copy of the town meeting’s program paid even more dividends. People were actually addressing her directly.
“I am Song Guard,” Water returned with a bored indifference born from repeating herself over and over. Her eyes swept over the woman in her sloppy t-shirt and jeans. “Nice shirt.”
She’s mimicking what Mara said earlier, he realized, getting Mara’s nudge of appreciation from adjacent seat.
Her admirer laughed, and pulled the shirt to clearly show the emblazoned middle finger over the Brother’s logo. “Made it myself.” She extended a hand. “Name’s Sally.”
“Water,” she replied, extending her own hand. “Sharp claws.”
“Yeah, but you’re warm to the touch. Figured all that diamond plating would make you colder. You look beautiful, by the way. What’s all those colors inside you?”
“Heart song.”
“Wow.” Sally gestured at the others crowding the reception room’s foyer at an arm’s length. “You don’t look like what my husband tells me about sirens.”
“What he tells you is true.”
The wonder on Sally’s face deflated. “Oh…well, you don’t look like you want to kill anyone.”
Scott winced, but Water’s reply was only a muted “Thank you.” He let out a breath.
“Way to go, Water,” Mara whispered after the woman left to rejoin a burly red-headed type having the look of someone almost stepping on a pit viper.
“I do not listen to myself,” Water proudly returned. “I am Mara too.”
The slow pound of a gavel melted the semi-circle of gawkers, the foyer’s rumble of conversation dwindling amidst the clatter of filling chairs. Scott admired his mother’s casual authority as she waited behind the podium for people to settle. Behind her sat four villagers Scott surmised were on the village council.
“The council will come to order,” Maiko called out, her soft accented voice strengthened by the building’s speakers. “We’ve a lot to cover. As always, we’ll start with introducing our newest members. Would Scott Rellant, Mara Martinez, and Water please stand.”
Scott and Mara rose, but of course it was Water’s graceful pirouette into a standing position that drew both attention and hesitant applause.
A smile spread across Maiko’s formal face. “Scott, for those still wondering, is my son. He is a famous performer and musician back home, and I’m quite proud of him. Mara is a pilot from the Castilian Range who hails from the String of Pearls colonies. Water is Shreen – what her kind call a Song Guard. We know her as a siren. She’s been raised among humans, but I would ask that you respect her cultural differences and give her the personal space she needs. Especially those veterans among us. Water was instrumental in the main topic we’re about to discuss, so we owe her our gratitude.”
Scott returned to his seat with the rest at his mother’s nod.
Her serious expression returned. “Two days ago, Water and my husband Harry seized control of the Deep Explorer.” Maiko waited until the scattered applause drifted into silence.
Scott glanced around, surprised at hearing less than the exuberant outburst he’d expected.
His mother acknowledged the lukewarm reaction with a nod and raised eyebrows. “We’re a lot like the big dog who finally caught the car and doesn’t know what to do with it.” She inclined her head toward Scott. “Some of us need to leave for Earth. Others talk about a new life out in the String of Pearls out of Company reach. My husband and I are among the old timers who want to establish a new colony right here. We’ve all the arable land we need to become self-sustaining. For those of you who don’t know already, there are no more Shreen left in Site C. Project Exodus failed miserably, and with it Hansa Corporation’s apparent plan to farm Reliquaries. Knowing this is what got my son and his team retired.” She paused, seeming to study the several hundred packing the foyer before continuing. “Tonight we’ll vote on creating an independent colony or abandoning Sanctuary altogether.”
“Company will nuke this place before letting us out!” came a shout. “Damn it, we know too much. We’re not as famous as that son of yours, May. Nobody’s going to notice or give a damn if they do.”
Maiko slammed her gavel down with annoyance. “Crazy, is there going to be one meeting that you won’t interrupt?”
The technician’s complaint stuck in Scott’s head as his mother quieted a rumble of agreements.” He raised his hand, not knowing if he was going to be out of line.
Maiko nodded toward him, brought her gavel down even harder, and used the intercom’s volume to drown everyone out. “We will now open the floor to discussion. Scott, you have something to contribute, step up.”
He stood and walked to the podium, catching a warning glance from his mother that his subject best be serious. Scott faced the attendees, a stark contrast in numbers to the last audience he’d faced. “Secrets are only worth killing over if they’re secrets. People back home were told I came out here for a charity performance. By now they’ve been told I was killed in some freak accident. Imagine the publicity when I return. Imagine how many people will be listening when I tell them about this place. Government inquires. Press flights. Nobody’s nuking this place. Hansa, and the bullshit church they run, will be too busy covering their own asses.”
His mother stepped up, her eyes alight as if beginning to see things coming together. “Just so you know, the last concert Scott played was at the Civic Auditorium in Sacramento, California. Close to four thousand people showed up. He’s performed internationally in both Europe and China. Hansa won’t dare move against us once the word’s out.”
There were, of course, objections, but Scott could tell as the evening wore on that he’d knocked the wind out of most arguments even if he was still unsure how he’d be breaking the news back on Earth. And what exactly would he be telling them? Sitting in his chair, he slumped forward, trying to come to grips with both that and his parents wanting to stay in this glorified prison. He listened to his mother handling everyone’s points and counter-points with the adroitness of a ranch hand herding cattle, prodding and teasing participants toward a single goal. In the late hours, when weariness even had Water curled up with eyes half-lidded, the vote wasn’t even close. To his surprise, most wanted to stay here. He raised his hand with the few dissenting votes, joined both by Mara and Water who roused from her bored slumber to raise a glittering hand. Not that he or Water had a choice.