The Search for Ulyssa Page 5

  “Have you ever known someone personally who has sworn a blood feud?” Kendra asked, trying to distract herself from how awkward it was that the other girls clearly did not want to meet her. “Or someone who had one sworn against him?”

  “Well, my bio dad was killed because of a blood feud.”

  “What?” Kendra was horrified. Her mouth dropped open. “I’m so sorry!” she said awkwardly.

  Tiran shrugged nonchalantly. “I was a baby. I don’t remember him at all, so I don’t know the details. I just know he offended a crazy guy who did his best to get him killed during the revolution. But I’ve been lucky enough to have Casey as my dad since I was four, so I haven’t really missed my bio dad.” She clenched her fists. “Those crazy Brotherhood terrorists better stay away from him, or I’ll declare a blood feud on them,” Tiran said fiercely.

  “I’m sure all of the security keeps him safe,” Kendra tried to reassure. It was easy to tell her cousin loved her dad a lot—and was very worried about him too. Kendra tried to imagine someone wanting to assassinate her father and then stopped abruptly. Her stomach clenched painfully just at the thought. That made her think of her mother, and unable to stop herself, she asked, “What about your bio mom? Do you remember her?”

  Tiran looked down at the ground and then shook her head. “Not exactly,” she said, kicking at a tuft of weeds poking up through a crack in the pavement. “I lived with my grandmother until she was killed in the revolution. That’s when I went to live with my dad—Casey, that is.”

  “Your grandmother was killed?” repeated Kendra, aghast. Had Tiran lost everyone in her life before she was five years old?

  “Look, here’s the library! It’s my favorite building in the complex!” Tiran exclaimed brightly.

  Do you get the feeling she’s hiding something? Dina asked.

  My fault. I asked about completely sensitive, personal stuff. I shouldn’t have brought it up, Kendra disagreed.

  Hmmmm. Dina didn’t sound convinced.

  ♦

  The next day at her orientation, Kendra gazed around at the other students in open interest. There were only about two hundred of them altogether, and most of them, she learned when the presenter conducted a “standing survey,” came from Terra. It only made sense. As the home world, it was the most populous planet. Everyone spoke Basic, of course, no matter what planet they came from, but only about a third of the students had studied any Denicorizen at all. Kendra was relieved to find she wasn’t the only one who didn’t speak the language.

  After these introductory surveys, the man conducting the seminar—a tall (of course) Denicorizen man speaking with only the slightest trace of an accent—began to give them a review of Corizen’s history.

  “As you probably know, Corizen was colonized many thousands of years before any of the member planets of the Union. Our ancestors arrived here after a brutally long journey in a multigenerational ship that hopped checkerboard style across the galaxy, using natural dimensional rifts. Of course, this was long before engineers discovered how to create intentional rifts and built the incredible interdimensional gates, which allows our current rapid travel between planets.

  “Corizen, like all the planets that have since been colonized, was chosen as a destination because probes confirmed that it matched Terra in atmospheric, gravitational, and life-producing conditions. There was already a varied plant life when we arrived . . .”

  Kendra intended to focus on what the man was saying, but it was like when she tried to study a little about Corizen’s history when she decided to come to school here. She just couldn’t stay focused. Yes, history was important. Yes, she needed to understand Corizen’s past if she was going to have any hope of understanding why these people had hated Citizens like her for a long, long time. But it was hard to care enough to pay close attention. That was then, and this was now. What really mattered to Kendra was finding Dina’s missing other half.

  She got distracted by sneaking looks at the other students around her. She recognized Hugo off to the left. He was easy to spot—he was fairer than she was, pale as if he had never seen the sun, his bleached hair white again. (She wondered idly how many shampoos it had taken to get rid of the yellow tint from stasis.) He stared at the speaker with a frown, his dark eyebrows drawn together; Kendra couldn’t decide if that was because he disagreed with the history or if he was just thinking deeply. Or maybe his breakfast disagreed with his stomach. Who knew what they served the students living in the dorms? Kendra herself was relieved to find that Aunt Andie apparently preferred similar food to what Kendra had been raised on. Not a huge surprise, since Kendra’s mom probably ate similar stuff growing up. Luckily, Aunt Andie was a better cook than her mother—though not as good as Kendra’s dad.

  The girl in front of her had shiny black hair so long that it almost brushed the floor when she was sitting in her seat.

  I wonder if she ever accidentally sits on it, said Dina. Or catches it in doors. Or finds dead flying insects in it.

  Hey, no need to pick on long hair! Kendra’s own hair fell almost to her waist.

  I like long hair. Those were honest questions.

  Kendra snorted. Hugo looked her way, his frown growing deeper. Right. Apparently he was trying intently to pay attention, and she was disturbing him. She looked hastily away to the girl at her right. She had her head covered with a scarf and was bent forward, like she was looking at the floor. By her posture, Kendra would have guessed that she was hoping to fade out of everyone’s notice somehow. But her bright, colorful tunic made everyone else’s clothes seem dingy by comparison, making obscurity unlikely. Kendra wished she could catch the other girl’s eye. She would give her an encouraging smile at least.

  “Castes. Do. Not. Exist!” thundered the speaker in front. Kendra jerked upright, along with almost every student in the room whose attention had wandered. The lecturer’s eyes were bright, and he stood with one finger jabbing up to the ceiling. “You will hear that Veshti demands divisions among the Denicorizens; this is a black falsehood. Disregard it. Do not be afraid to associate with anyone you meet. You may offend some who still wish to live under that oppressive and dishonest system, but you, as Citizens who are all equals among each other, must show them another way.” The other presenter sitting behind him reached forward and tapped his arm. He looked back at her and lowered his finger. She tilted her head, and he turned back to face the students again. Clearing his throat, he continued in a much smaller voice. “Ah, perhaps first I should explain about Veshti,” he said, fumbling with the sheet of notes in his hand. “Yes. Most Denicorizens believe in a Supreme Creator, a deity that is known to His human followers as Veshti . . .”

  What in the name of the stars was that about? Kendra asked. Around her some of the other students were still staring fixedly at the lecturer, probably wondering if he was going to suddenly shout again.

  Weren’t you listening at all? Dina was exasperated.

  You know I wasn’t.

  How are you going to learn how to get us safely around this world?

  I thought that was your job.

  Dina groaned. I have to do everything. If you had been listening, you would have learned that the revolution ten years ago that overthrew the king also ended a strict caste system that had been in place for the last hundred years or so. However, it sounds as if people are still resisting that bit. You humans don’t like change.

  You isithunzi like it even less.

  True, Dina conceded.

  At last the lecturer finished, and his copresenter, a Citizen woman in a pale gray slimsuit, took the podium at the front of the room. “Next there will be a guided tour of the campus for those who are interested; if you have already found your way around campus, you are welcome to mingle with your fellow students in the common lounge that adjoins the lecture hall. There are drinks and a variety of popular Denicorizen appetizers available.�
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  Food! Dina said enthusiastically. I hope it’s something new and tasty!

  I hope we can get to know some of these other students. The sooner we can make some friends, the better, Kendra said, looking around at the others. Most of them were filing toward the door, planning to go on the tour.

  Fine. Chat all you want with the other kids. As long as you sample all the appetizers so I can taste them.

  ♦

  By the time Kendra made her way into the lounge, a large group of students were already there. Kendra joined the line that had formed at the serving table, hoping that nothing looked too disgusting, since Dina was eager to try it all. It was strange, Dina’s newfound interest in taste. She’d always been able to experience everything Kendra had, but now it seemed like she could have her own independent reaction to how something tasted. Something that made Kendra want to gag might appeal to Dina—but of course, the only way she could taste it was if Kendra put it in her mouth and chewed. Kendra was just considering if she should tap the burly boy waiting in front of her and introduce herself when the bright tunic girl from the orientation stepped into the line behind her.

  “Hi!” Kendra greeted brightly.

  “Hello,” the girl returned, her voice soft. Her eyes darted up to Kendra’s face and then locked off to the side, as if she were staring at something vitally important just over Kendra’s shoulder. Kendra nervously darted a look behind her but couldn’t see what the girl was looking at. The mountainous figure in front of her hadn’t even slid forward at all.

  “I’m Kendra,” she said, wondering if she should stick out her hand. It was a Terran custom, one that was most commonly used when greeting new people in the Union. The girl glanced down at Kendra’s proffered hand and looked blankly at her face. So shaking hands wasn’t done where she was from? Kendra dropped her arm and clasped her hands behind her back. “What’s your name?” she asked, determined not to give up. She was still ninety percent certain the other girl was just shy, not aloof.

  “Zara,” the girl finally answered, her eyes still on the ground.

  “That’s a beautiful tunic, Zara,” Kendra said sincerely. “I love the color yellow. It compliments your skin perfectly.” Again, she got a timid smile but no eye contact. Was it possible that eye contact was considered rude where she was from? Kendra decided to be direct.

  “Where are you from?”

  “I am from Motambique,” Zara answered politely. Kendra frowned. Motambique? She knew almost nothing about it except that it was one of the nine council planets, a member of the Planetary Union that had achieved full self-sufficiency. Zenith was only a frontier planet; though the population and industries were both growing fast, it was still a relatively new colonization.

  Do you know anything about Motambique? Kendra asked desperately. Are they very formal?

  You’re asking me about human customs on a planet I’ve never been to?

  Sure. If someone ever lectured about it, you probably picked it up.

  Sorry. I’ve got nothing.

  “I don’t know anything about Motambique,” confessed Kendra. “But I’d love to learn.”

  Zara’s face brightened, and she hazarded a quick glance at Kendra’s face again. “What would you like to know?”

  “Are you a very formal people?”

  Zara cocked her head to the side, thinking. “We are a very polite people. I do not know if you would consider us formal. We do have very specific rules about conversations with strangers, for example.” A hint of a smile. Kendra wondered if that was supposed to be a joke or a set down. She decided to own it either way.

  “I’m from Zenith, so everything I do is probably vulgar or rude. Sorry,” she said with a laugh. Zara’s smile stretched a tiny bit larger.

  The line moved forward, and Kendra adjusted her position behind the future cattle-wrestler. He was so wide he was blocking her view of the table. No chance to see what kind of new “marvels” she was going to have to stomach in the name of friendship. She tried to lean around him for a peek just as he jerked backward, his elbow smashing into her nose.

  “Ow!” she yelped, rubbing at her throbbing nose.

  “Sorry! Sorry!” The young man whirled around, knocking a stack of plates off the table. They crashed to the ground, scattering every which direction. He then stepped on the mound of plates and slipped, stumbling backward into the table. Before Kendra had a chance to even reach forward, the whole table careened over, dumping food and utensils and pitchers of liquid all over the floor. The young man landed with a thump right on a large serving bowl full of ice.

  Everyone in the room stared at him in stunned silence for a moment, and then the laughter and applause and even whistles broke out. The young man’s face flamed red as he looked around at the disaster. Then he awkwardly tried to push himself out of the bowl.

  Kendra darted forward to help. “Here!” she said, grabbing one of his arms and pulling. He came forward on his knees and then stood, staring down at the mess.

  “What happened?!” exclaimed the Citizen woman who had been at the presentation. Kendra turned to find her standing in the doorway.

  “I . . . fell,” the huge young man said apologetically. “It was an accident.”

  She pursed her lips, looking from the disaster on the floor back to his face. Kendra wondered if she was debating whether or not she truly believed him, especially with the cheering students looking on.

  “This kind of behavior is unacceptable, Mister . . . ?”

  “Westley, madam. Brennan Westley.”

  “Well, Mr. Westley, students at the International University are not to participate in unruly behavior of any kind, including vandalism, roughhousing, or even just pranks. Attendance is a privilege that can be suspended at any time.”

  “Yes, madam,” he said stonily.

  “Please clean up this mess. You will find janitorial supplies outside the hall in the first room on the left.” She turned to face the rest of the room, raising her voice. “I will go speak to our cook about something alternative to eat. In the meantime, please avoid the serving table area to keep the mess to a minimum.”

  She turned and stalked out of the room.

  Brennan sighed heavily as he surveyed the damage. “Welcome to Corizen,” he muttered, heading toward the door after the administrator. Kendra glanced back at Zara, who had already averted her eyes and was gliding away from the table as if she had witnessed something truly uncouth.

  Extraordinary! applauded Dina. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a human display such an impressive lack of coordination.

  I know. It was . . . well, my jaw hurts from trying to keep a straight face. Kendra’s eyes swept cubed ice melting into pools that surrounded soggy fried lumps and some kind of shellfish with dozens of tiny legs still attached. But I’ll be eternally grateful he saved me from having to eat that. The least I can do is help him clean up. She righted the giant serving bowl and started to scoop what ice she could back into it, though she blanched at touching the creepy shellfish. After grabbing two of the plates, she tried to shovel the things up without touching them.

  “You don’t need to do that!” a deep voice behind her protested. It was Brennan, returned with a cart laden with various cleaning supplies and a large waste bin.

  “Least I could do,” Kendra replied, as she started to collect the plates. Luckily they were the unbreakable kind and had escaped pretty much unscathed. “It was partly my fault.”

  Brennan pulled the table back upright, and Kendra set the stack of plates back on it, then snagged a towel from the cart, mopping up the liquid that dripped from the table onto the floor. Brennan started mopping up the biggest pools of liquid.

  “I’m Kendra, by the way,” she said, waving her towel at him. “From Zenith.”

  “A fellow frontier!” he replied with enthusiasm. “I’m from Krati.”

 
“Krati!” echoed a sneering voice behind them. Kendra shifted and saw that they had collected a small group of apparently curious onlookers. Hugo stared down at them, flanked by two boys and another girl. None of them stepped forward to help.

  “We should have known. Krati has a reputation, after all,” said Hugo.

  “Kratian junk!” added one of the other boys, sniggering. Kendra glared at him.

  How can they be so rude? Isn’t it enough that Brennan managed to get on the wrong side of the professor his very first day?

  Even you say “Kratian junk” sometimes, Dina pointed out, unconcerned.

  “Well, what can we expect from a frontier clod? I’m surprised they admitted a couple of rubes like you,” Hugo said arrogantly. “How did you manage to pay for the trip here?”

  “They indentured themselves as servants, Hugo, obviously. Look at them,” the girl mocked.

  “If you don’t have anything useful to do, like help clean up after an accident that could have happened to anybody, I suggest you find someplace else to be,” Kendra retorted hotly.

  Kendra! implored Dina. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves!

  Dina, just a little push . . .

  Kendra. No.

  All four of the others laughed. “Look, she’s got a bark!” one boy said.

  “Cute little terrier, too, but don’t get too close. I expect she’s got fleas.”

  Brennan stood up to his full height.

  “That’s enough,” he said firmly.

  “What, or you’ll fall on me?” the girl scoffed.

  Suddenly, her feet flew out from under her and she landed on her behind with a muffled oomph. The boys’ laughter cut off as suddenly as if they had been muted.

  “Or you’ll fall all over yourself!” Kendra interjected. “Like I said, it could happen to anybody.”

  Hugo’s eyes flicked from his friend on the floor to Kendra.

  “Come on,” he said sullenly. “The rubes aren’t worth our time.” He strode away, leaving the girl to heave herself off the floor and follow with the other two boys. She glanced back once, and Kendra could see the stark animosity clouding her eyes.