The Mother We Share

“And if we have to go down, will you hold my hand? Because, because, we all will go down together.”

-from “All Go Down Together”, traditional spacer song

Etta's mother was furious. She was madder than Yan had ever seen, though Yan hadn't seen her in very many moods. Her face was blood red, and her eyes bulged as she yelled at Etta. The sound carried across the open water, far louder than the waves slapping on the side of the boat. The sun was high in the sky, and the sweat trickled down Yan's back.

Though some of the impact of Etta's mother's fury was lost on Yan because she couldn't understand a word that was being said, the shame was there. It wasn't right of her to take advantage of this woman who had helped her, but there she was doing it anyway. She was doing what she had to do. Or, Etta was, anyway.

Etta was crying a little bit at her mother's anger, but she kept her hand on the wheel. Surprisingly, they hadn't had to sail far. The green dot in Yan's vision was swelling, and on the horizon, there was the dark smudge that signaled land. Were they so close because the presence that Yan felt simply happened to be nearby, or had they been traveling supernaturally fast because of the way that the water seemed to glide under them, and the way that the wind always filled their sails in just the right direction? It was disconcerting at times. The feeling of the power was in the air. Yan could taste it, thick on her tongue. Or was that just the salt spray?

Etta's mother had stopped yelling, and had retreated to the opposite side of the boat from where Yan and Etta were standing. She refused to look at them, staring resolutely out at the wake that their boat left as Etta sailed on. Even when Etta tried to say something to her, she ignored her. On a boat like this, there wasn't much room for people to get critical distance from each other when they fought, so maybe it was for the best that she was simply ignoring the pair.

Yan put her hand on Etta's arm, trying to comfort her and thank her. If Yan was honest, she thought Etta was making a mistake. She shouldn't be helping her, again and again. But she was, and Yan was grateful for it, even if Etta was crazier than she was. They both stared out to the horizon at the smudge.

The day wore on. Though they kept sailing forward at a rapid clip, with the wind keeping the sail taught, the smudge didn't seem to get any closer. Yan found the nautical diagram on the display near the wheel incomprehensible. It was nothing like the orderly starcharts she was used to using for navigation. All the flashing beacons told her nothing, and for whatever reason, the landmass they were sailing toward didn't even appear on the screen.

As the day wore on, Yan realized this was because what they were sailing towards was a mountain, or multiple mountains. The tallest she had ever seen. They were probably still a hundred kilometers away, but the shape on the horizon loomed. The green dot in her vision urged them forward, even though Yan herself had nothing to do with their movement.

Night fell once more. Etta's mother doled out food without talking to them. It was a sullen silence that they ate in. Since her mother wasn't helping with the sailing, Etta had even let Yan take the wheel as she fixed the sails. They would sail through the night, then. The wind and the waves that pushed them onward weren't letting up, and there was no point in stopping to rest now. They couldn't be that much farther away.

But they were. Boats didn't travel very fast, even with the elements conspiring to help them. Yan was exhausted. She didn't know how Etta did it.

Yan sent a pointed thought out towards the presence, though she doubt it understood. 'You'd better be worth it.'

There was no response, but she hadn't entirely expected one.

It was the middle of the next day, after sailing nonstop, when they finally saw the actual shore. The mountain had a thick base of clouds around it. Thick, wet, sticky air surrounded them, along with a weird calmness. This mountain was probably blocking much of the prevailing wind. The little strand of air that pushed their boat forward and up toward the gravelly beach was the only thing that moved. When they were close enough that Etta didn't want to risk damaging the boat, she stopped, dropped the sail, and slowly lowered the anchor into the water. It caught on the bottom and the boat strained against it. Yan looked at her. Was this really the closest they were going to get?

Unfortunately, that seemed to be the case. Yan could understand not wanting to scrape the bottom of the boat on the bottom. Peering down through the clear water, it did look a little bit rocky, and not something the smooth underside of their vessel would enjoy rubbing up against.

Etta walked to the back of the boat, and had a conversation with her mother. Or attempted to, anyway. Etta's mother looked at her, still angry, and refused to say anything. Etta looked hurt, but at this point the silent treatment was getting pretty old, so she turned grumpily away from her mother and returned to Yan.

Yan, feeling still guilty about Etta's choice to commandeer the boat, went to the back. She squatted down next to where Etta's mother was sitting. It felt too weird to tower over her and stand, even though Yan was rather used to towering over people. The mother glared at her coolly.

"I'm sorry," Yan said. She stretched out her hand. "And thank you. For all your help."

Of course the mother wouldn't understand, but she tried to put as much into her tone as possible. She didn't want to leave, possibly, probably, forever without making her amends. She wished she had some kind of gift to give her, as a token of her thanks, but all Yan had done here was take and take.

She crouched there awkwardly, with her hand out, hoping that Etta's mother would accept her gesture of apology.

Etta's mother broke the silence. She said Yan's name, and then a long stretch of something else. Yan wished she could understand. The tone was cold, but not full of hatred. Etta's mother still didn't take her outstretched hand, but that was better than nothing. Yan nodded to her and stood.

Etta was at the helm. She gestured out over the water, wearing a 'well?' expression on her face.

They were a good way from shore, about fifty meters. Yan knew what Etta wanted her to do. She was a little nervous about using the power, especially so close to that presence that was beckoning her ever forward. The green dot had faded from her vision, and been replaced with a tugging in her heart that almost matched what she had first felt during that storm. She wasn't going to get lost in it. Not now. Not again.

Yan reached for the power. It came to her easily. She was swimming in it. She used it to bring the surface tension of the water up, up, enough to support the weight of a person. She looked at Etta.

"Ready?" Yan asked. Etta smiled in response, and sat on the side of the boat. Yan had a brief moment of remembering her dream from nights ago. Etta had been sitting on the side of the boat, and, just like that, she had dived into the water, swimming down and down. Etta dived now, but instead of swimming down, she hit the water with a splash, and treaded water easily, not caring that her clothes were floating all around her. Yan sat on the side and lowered herself onto the surface of the water gently. It held her up, as she knew it would.

She stayed a good distance away from Etta as she walked across the surface of the ocean. She didn't want to risk Etta's splashing disturbing her use of the power. She could probably control it, but she also didn't want to accidentally kick or step on her friend. That wouldn't have been ideal. Though the water was definitely calm, it was still a very weird sensation to walk across the top of it. It was rather like trying to balance on the surface of a bowl of jelly.

Etta seemed to be enjoying swimming. She was a strong swimmer, and she turned to look at Yan's tottering steps. She splashed her purposefully, and laughed. Yan couldn't retaliate for fear of falling in, so she just kept walking. If the only wet she got was on the very bottoms of her feet, and a little from Etta splashing her, that was definitely better than being completely submerged in the cold water. And it was extra cold here, because the shadow of the mountain towering above them, blocked out the sun and sucked the heat from the waves. After a little while, they came to a place where the water was shallow enough that Etta could stand, and she waded to the shore. Yan hopped over the breakers and released the power as she got closer to the shore. She misjudged the depth slightly, and was startled when she sank in ankle deep. The shock of the cold made her yelp and jump further onto the shore, though that only served to drive some gravelly rocks into the soles of her cloth shoes.

Overall, there could have been a better start to her stay on the island. At least, she thought it was an island. She couldn't really tell.

There was no road, or any sign of habitation at all. The little beach they had come up onto was in a cove, with the gravelly beach sloping upward towards larger rocks that surrounded them. Trees, similar to the ones that Yan had seen when she had first broken out of her imprisonment, began where the rocks of the beach ended. Yan looked behind her, and saw the boat still bobbing peacefully there. Etta's mother leaned on the side and watched them from afar.

Yan turned back towards the center of the island. That tug inside her was strong enough that she was compelled forward, even though the boat back there held a tiny, nagging feeling of safety. She knew she was walking into something unknown, toward something much more powerful than herself, and there was a part of her that wondered if she was making a mistake. But it also felt like this was the only choice she had. There was a potential for her to be able to communicate with someone here.

Yan stepped forward, away from the lapping water and towards the trees. Etta watched her for a second, then jogged after Yan, shaking herself like a dog to clear off some of the water from her swim. Yan was glad, distantly, that she hadn't gotten wet.

Her thoughts seemed to slow down and narrow as she reached the trees. The fact that Etta was following behind her only distantly registered as she shoved aside branches and scrubby bushes, wading past the first line of defense into the darkness of the wooded area. It had been dark in the shadow of the mountain, it was darker still among the greenery. Just as the outside world seemed to fade from her mind as she waded forward, the sound of the ocean sweeping up towards the shore vanished. There was no wind here. Even what animals one would expect to find in such an area were silent. It was just the cracking of branches and rustling of leaves as Yan stepped through, leaving Etta to push forward behind her.

She was guided by the siren song in her head. It felt so much like a natural part of her that it was almost instinct. After some time of shoving through the foliage, getting scrapes on her hands from thorny plants, Yan came to what seemed to be a path. It wasn't much, just a place where the undergrowth was a little less thick. The ground was just stones mixed with dirt, and not the same layering of wilted vines and choked seedlings that seemed to cover the rest of the place, reaching up towards her feet as she took too-confident steps forward.

It wasn't a straight path, but it was narrow. Straight and narrow, hadn't she made a joke about that one time? But there was no Halen here for Yan to laugh with, or cry with. He had been pushed out of her brain by this new presence that called her forward. The power sang on her lips. Yan laughed alone. Etta, startled, put her hand on Yan's arm. She hardly noticed.

They walked along the path, encountering no one and seeing nothing for a long time. The land sloped upward, rising to meet the base of the mountain. Or perhaps this was the base of the mountain. The air was thick and rich with smells: wet earth, growing and decaying vegetation, the humid sea air.

Eventually, the tree cover thinned out. It wasn't due to a change in elevation; it seemed more like the forest had been planted in a certain zone, and this was the furthest extent of its creep. In a hundred, two hundred years, perhaps it would be an even thicker and wilder area.

The forest gave way to bushes, then those too gave way to unplanted land, which gave way finally to terraces covered with growing grain. The terraces climbed up the face of the mountain, sloping into the distance. It must have been early in the season still, because everything growing was green and short. Yan walked around the side of the terraces, where there was a dirt and gravel road. It had tire marks in it. People must have cars here, then, or machinery for farming, at the very least. She followed the path, still seeing no one except her own shadow, and Etta, who occasionally walked faster in order to be by her side. Catching a glimpse of her out of the corner of her eye startled Yan every time it happened. She kept forgetting that there were more people in the universe than her and this presence that was calling to her. How could she keep forgetting that? Yan reached out to Etta, who grabbed her hand. Yan squeezed it, and Etta responded in kind. There. Now she wouldn't forget. They walked side by side. The path was wide enough for both of them, and probably two more.

The first person they saw was an older woman, sitting on the side of the path, legs crossed, eating a piece of fruit. Etta waved and called out to her, but the woman ignored her. Yan and Etta came closer, and the woman continued to ignore them. Her clothes were plain, and her hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail. She had a cloth bag on the ground next to her, full of fruit similar to the one she was eating. It was creepy, the way she didn't look at them, until, suddenly, she did. Her eyes, a piercing green, flicked up to look at Yan, and she smiled. Etta tugged on Yan's arm, and Yan had to stop staring into the woman's face as they continued walking. There was that presence, living inside that woman. But Yan was pulled forward, both by Etta's insistence, and the feeling inside her.

The same thing happened several more times. People, some standing, some walking, some working, all seemed to recognize Yan and stare her down. It only grew more intense as they came closer to the center–

How did she know it was the center? The center of what?

They walked on. No one talked to them. Etta's hand grew sweaty in Yan's. She was nervous? What was there to be nervous about?

Then there was a building that appeared just over the crest of a small hill, coming into view past the terraces of grain and the smaller plots of other plants. It was made of stone, the local stuff, big blocks that were probably carved directly out of the mountainside. It was squat, and round, but with plenty of windows that gave it an elegance and an open feeling that it would have otherwise lacked. It was half built into the side of the mountain, as so many of the buildings on this planet were. People, all wearing the same type of plain tunic, passed in and out of it through various doors, intent on their own tasks, but giving that same smile to Yan. They had probably seen around thirty people, all told, of various ages, sizes, and appearances. None had been younger than maybe fifteen, and the oldest they had probably seen was that first woman, who was maybe seventy. That didn't mean that there weren't others inside the building. That was the center. That was where the presence was.

Yan came up to the door of the building and opened it. It wasn't locked. She started to walk inside, but felt a tugging on her arm. She turned. Etta was pulling her back, shaking her head. Yan looked at her, not understanding. The look of… something on Etta's face should have meant something to her. What was that supposed to mean? There was an even larger wall between herself and Etta now. Part of Yan cried out at that realization, and she pulled Etta towards her. Etta only shook her head more vigorously and tugged in the opposite direction.

But Yan had to keep going. She had to keep going. She had to.

She turned back around, and if Etta was going to keep holding on to her hand, then she could. If she was going to let go, then that didn't matter anymore either. She felt her hand slip out of Etta's, and there was only the sound of her footsteps on the stone floor for a moment.

That jolted Yan back. Footsteps on the floor. Six steps, turn around, hop over the chain. She had turned around without even thinking about it. The cool darkness of the stone surrounding her, the sound of her feet walking their familiar pattern, the lack of anyone else around her all reminded her so much of being imprisoned. Etta stared at her from that short distance away.

"Please come?" Yan asked, gaining control of herself again, both from her irrational mind seized by thoughts of the past and from the presence that was tugging her deep into the bowels of this place. She didn't want to go alone. "Please?"

Etta had come this far with her, farther than Yan had any right to expect of her. But Etta wasn't going to break that streak now, and so she came forward, tentatively stepping into the cool stone hallway of the building, letting the heavy wooden door swing shut behind her.

Light streamed in through the windows, but it was muted and dull. Clouds were gathering in the sky outside, bringing rain, and maybe wind that would sweep one side of the mountain and leave the other dry.

Their footsteps sounded on the floor, but it was four feet this time instead of just two, and that was a comfort. And Yan was wearing the cloth shoes she had been given, and that was a comfort, too. And Etta was here. And a piece of Yan, the piece that was most strongly called to this place, felt like she was coming home. And that brought her a feeling of peace, even if it was an illusion.

They came to a place in the building where it joined the mountainside. The windows ended, and the walls changed from smooth stone blocks to being tunnels hewn directly into the ground. A breeze whistled past them. Caves?

This whole time, they had been climbing, and now they began to descend. There were lights in the hallway, electric ones, and they lit the path well.

Down, and down, and down, and down. they kept going and the air grew cooler around them. The slight breeze tickles on the back of Yan’s neck. At the bottom of the slope there was a door, heavy and wooden. Yan pushed it open with trepidation. The door was warm underneath her hand, much warmer than the stone that surrounded them.

As the door swung open, Etta hung back. She reached out for the back of Yan’s tunic, but the fabric slipped past her fingers. Yan hardly noticed that Etta was trying to grab her. She stepped through the door, not bothering to check whether Etta was behind her or not. The whole scene was like a dream.

Inside the room there was one figure, sitting on a rug on the floor, not facing the door. The figure didn't turn when Yan entered the room, but Yan could feel it reaching out in the power. She stepped forward further into the room and walked around the seated figure. When Yan faced the person, she could see that it was a man around thirty years old, simply sitting with a placid expression on his face. He didn't smile at her like all of the other people did. His eyes were closed.

Yan sat down in front of him. She crossed her legs and put her arms on her knees. She stared directly at him. Behind him, she could see Etta standing in the doorway. Etta looked nervous. Yan didn't want to think about that, though.

The room was dim, lit only by a few bulbs around the walls. Yan and the man, sitting on the floor cast shadows out around them like the spokes on a wheel. Light danced. The power was thick in the air. Yan could touch it.

She was here. this is where she was meant to be. She had arrived.

Yan closed her eyes. She reached out with the power. It was like coming home. The whole world spun around her. Something clicked in her brain. She knew exactly who she was and what she needed to do.

---

The Mother had felt this one on the planet for a long time. She had been waiting. It had taken many days, more than days, for this one to wake up. It had taken a long time for this one to come home.

Yan was here, at last, at last. It hadn’t taken any effort to slip right into the waiting embrace of this power. A collective mind, stretched across how many people? They had been calling out to her, and she was home.

The Mother stood and stretched this new body. The arms reached up to the sky. Everything was so long and tall. She had so few bodies that were like this. It wasn't whole and it wasn't healed; it was hurt, but it would be okay. Her new fingers trailed over her new face. She let her other body stand, too, and she reached out with those arms to touch the same places, to look at the same places, just to make sure that all of her perceptions were in line.

There was the feeling of seeing out of forty pairs of eyes at once. People waking, people working, people walking. She was everywhere. Out of one set of eyes, she saw her own face. Yan reached out for it, like it was a mirror.

There was something that this body wanted. She was calling out, inside of the Mother. What did she want?

And in another set of eyes, she saw Etta, standing back in the doorway. She needed to talk to her. The words were right there, on the tip of her tongue. On the tip of forty tongues. Ready to sing.

It always took some getting used to, when a new piece joined the Mother. Every new person, every new body, every new mind, every new experience, they all added to the whole.

What did this body want? Abruptly, the Mother knew. Inside of her, it was the same fear the oldest fear.

Don't worry, the Mother thought. You will never be alone again. We are all here together. This is what we were born for.

And that was a comfort, too.

There was something else that the new body wanted. That girl in the doorway, her daughter, she needed to say something to her. what did she want to say?

She walked towards that girl. She made sure to use the new body. It didn't matter to the Mother, of course, but it might matter to this girl. She smiled. She smiled as wide as this body could. This new one was glad to have the words finally. The words.

Yan’s body moved like a puppet.

“Thank you,” the Mother said. “Thank you so much, for everything. and I'm sorry. I wish I could have told you that before.”

The words came spilling out, the simplest expression of what Yan had brought with her. All her emotions were caught up and frozen within the Mother, and the Mother was the one who found the words.

“It's okay,” Etta said. “How do you know how to speak?”

“I'm part of the Mother now,” the Mother said. “She knows everything.”

Being part of the Mother. What a strange thought. What a natural thought.

And the Mother didn’t know quite everything. But it was close enough.

“What are you going to do?” Etta asked.

“I'm going to--.” and the Mother stopped, considering. The things that this body seem to want we're not just things that the Mother wanted. That might be a problem. But not right now. “I don't know,” the Mother said. “I think we'll have to figure that out.”

“Are you going to stay here?” Etta asked.

“Yes,” the Mother said. “This is my home.”

An echo of a voice. “The past is not a home.” But this wasn’t the past. She was here.

Etta looked at her strangely. “I thought you came from far away.”

“I have come from many different places,” the Mother said. “But this is home because this is where I am.”

“Are you okay, Yan?”

Yes, Yan was okay. But not entirely in control. Not in control at all.

“Yes.” The Mother made her body smile again. She was okay. The Mother was where this body belonged.

This visitor wasn't convinced that her new body was okay. But it didn't matter what her daughters thought. All that mattered was that she kept them safe. That, her new body agreed with. She just wanted Etta to be safe. Well, if the Mother wanted every one of her daughters to be safe, it was fine if this body started with just one.

“Are you sure?” Etta asked. “You seem different.”

A little twinge. Different? Yan had never been able to talk to her.

“I'm more than I was before.” That was true for both this new body and the Mother.

More, so much more. So many more people, all in her head, knowing her, understanding her.

“Do you want me to stay here?” Etta asked.

“Do you have somewhere that you will be safe?”

Yes. Keep Etta safe.

Etta laughed a little bit. “I'll be fine,” she said.

“Where are you going?”

“We were going to my cousin,” she said. “She would have taken care of us. You could still come.”

“No.”

No.

“Please?”

“No. I need to stay here. I belong here.”

Everyone here could see into the deepest part of Yan’s heart, the dark corners. They hadn’t looked yet, but they would, and Yan knew that they wouldn’t cast her away. She could see into the darkest corners of their hearts, too. And she needed to stay.

“Will you be safe here?”

“Of course,” the Mother said. She would protect her own.

That old adage, safety in numbers.

“Are you going to go back to where you came from?”

Where did she come from? The past. Where was she going to go? Where did Yan want to go? Where did she need to go? Yan struggled for a moment against the Mother. Someday, she would need to go. She couldn’t go back to the past, but she couldn’t stay here forever.

Abruptly, the Mother and this new body were in opposition. The new body couldn't win, of course. She was so small compared to the rest of the Mother. But her sadness and her pain we're also part of the Mother now. That was how life was. Everyone's pain became part of them, and pain is lessened when shared and understood. The Mother shared it with everyone inside of herself, and every piece understood it.

They looked inside her, and didn’t find her wanting. They looked inside of her, and understood her.

And if she was understood here, this was home. And she never needed to go anywhere else.

“No, I need to stay here.”

“Can I come see you?” Etta asked.

“Don’t put yourself in danger for me,” Yan wanted to say. But she couldn’t. The words she was thinking didn’t come out. “Stay away from me so that you will stay safe.”

“My daughters are always welcome,” the Mother said. Etta looked at her strangely. The Mother considered her daughter. She was hurt, too. It was a shame. She reached out with her new hand, and touched the limp side of Etta's face.

They stared into each other's eyes. Etta grabbed her hand. They stood there, hand on hand on cheek.

This body had something else to say. The Mother let her. “Why did you save me?”

“I don't know,” Etta said. “I had to.”

“Why?”

Instead of saying anything in response, Etta reached out and hugged her. it was so rare that the Mother had a touch from an outsider. Etta squeezed her, and it felt as though she would never let go. The body hugged back.

“Tell your mother thank you. And sorry, for stealing her boat.”

“I did that,” Etta said.

“You brought me home.”

“I didn't know that was what I was doing.”

“But you did it anyway.”

There was a pause for a minute. They stayed there, hugging each other. “I’ll miss you,” Etta said.

“I'll always be here. I'll look out for you.”

“How?” Etta asked.

“The Mother keeps this planet safe,” the Mother explained through Yan’s mouth.

“That's what she said she was doing too.”

“Who?” the Mother asked.

“Jeepak.”

“Who?” Neither Yan nor the Mother had any idea who Etta was talking about.

“The one who was holding you captive.”

The memories filtered into the Mother’s collective mind, and they weren’t pleasant. That one, the one that this body called the Green King. Was she one of her daughters? The Mother took a moment to examine the memories, settling on all of the places where the Green King, who was named Jeepak, apparently, had used the power. Her little device, the one that had caused this body so much pain, that was the thing that kept her away from the Mother, hiding her from the Mother’s sight. That was unfortunate. How many others of her daughters were hiding from her?

Perhaps it didn’t matter. The Mother was plenty as she was. She was whole, and content.

“I have been protecting this planet since we came here. I will continue to protect it until we all leave,” the Mother said.

“Are you still Yan, or are you someone else?” Etta released her, and looked deep into the Mother’s eyes. The collective light shone there.

“I am who I am,” the Mother said. “Yan is part of me, and I am part of Yan.”

Etta shivered. “I don’t want to leave you here alone,” Etta said.

“I’m not alone,” the Mother said, with both of the bodies that were in the room.

The way that Etta looked: disturbed, scared, sad, stirred the thing that was Yan. Yan wanted to talk. She thought she knew what Etta wanted to hear more than the Mother did.

It was good to have someone so determined. That strength would be a valuable asset when it came time to protect the planet. The Mother nurtured this feeling, and let that slice of herself have its way. Though everyone was watching through both sets of eyes, there were no real stakes in this conversation beyond the feelings that began in this body’s gut and spiralled out to put waves of nausea in the rest of the Mother’s stomachs.

“Etta,” the Mother began, with Yan directing the sentiment. “I’m exactly where I need to be. I’ll be safe here, I promise. This is where I’m going to stay.”

The body’s mouth continued to move, trying to put the words ‘for now’ at the end of the sentence. The Mother stopped the vocal cords, and the sound died at the source. The Mother was slightly amused. How many of them had tried, at one time or another, to leave the group? All of them. Some had even succeeded. But they had all come back, because they belonged to each other, and they had a duty. That was more important than frivolous individualism.

Yan felt that wave of thought from the Mother. It was impossible to resist such reasoning when it was coming from within herself, or felt as though it were, at the very least.

“If you’re sure,” Etta s aid.

The Mother nodded, wordlessly. There was a tear in the corner of Etta’s eye.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Etta said finally, and rubbed at her face with her knuckles..

“I’ll miss you, too.” This was all Yan. “I’ll never forget--” She was torn between ‘how you saved my life’ and ‘how you helped me’, so she just left it as it was.

The sadness was rising up, threatening to crush them all. Across the Mother, the involuntary reaction to such strong emotion was for throats to seize up and for eyes to sting.

“I won’t forget you either,” Etta said. She grabbed Yan’s hand one last time. Etta gathered her courage, straightening her shoulders. “You should go home to her,” she said.

“I am home,” the Mother began again.

Etta continued, ignoring the interruption and staring straight into Yan’s eyes. “To the one you talk about in your sleep. Halen, right?”

The impact of Etta’s words was somewhat lost in a chaotic moment as Yan and the Mother both tried to reconcile their conceptions of gender. Yan presented the image of Halen, and neither of them could adequately explain the way that Etta’s language felt natural (to the Mother) and wrong (to Yan). They gave up on that train of thought and spoke, but quickly ran into the same issue.

“Maybe she,” the Mother began. Yan forced her mouth to a stop. She wanted to say ‘he’, but there was no equivalent in this language. “Maybe Halen will come here,” the Mother said aloud, mainly for Etta’s benefit. For the Mother it was like a joke.

The thought filled Yan with fear. To imagine Halen in this place was to picture Sandreas at his side. For Sandreas to come to a place like this, far outside the normal boundaries of the Empire, meant that it was totally destroyed. Everyone here would be dead: Etta, her mother, the doctors who had helped her, the people on the streets and in the cities, the Green King and all his guards, whoever the Green King worked for, and even the Mother herself. The vision of the wasteland that this planet would be swam in their thoughts, fueled by Yan’s too-vivid imagination.

The Mother pushed away the thought like it was nothing, and searched for confidence within herself to give to this new part of her. The Mother would never, never let that happen. Not here. This planet had been kept safe for countless years, and it would be for countless more. There was no force in the universe stronger than the Mother.

But Yan didn’t want to imagine the opposite either. She didn’t want to see Sandreas defeated. She couldn’t imagine it.

The Mother was amused. There was no need to imagine anything.

“You think she’ll come find you?” Etta asked, bringing the Mother’s awareness out of her internal conversation and back to the external one.

“No,” they spoke in unison, this time, Yan and the Mother, but for completely different reasons. The mother presented Yan with the image of a sphere, made of the power, that surrounded the star, light minutes out. It stopped all light from escaping and disguised the system completely. No one could see them, no matter what they looked for. That was why the Mother knew that Halen wouldn’t be able to find her.

Yan said no only because Halen would never leave Sandreas to come find her.

It amused them both slightly to see the other’s response.

See? We belong together.

The Mother was content to have Yan, and Yan was content to be held in the Mother’s mental embrace.

For now.

“That’s too bad,” Etta said.

The Mother smiled. “It’s okay.”

Etta tried to smile back. “At least you aren’t trapped anymore.”

Far more important, they decided, was that Yan wasn’t alone anymore.

“I can’t say thank you enough.”

“I know you mean it,” Etta said.

They had already said all this, more than once, and Etta and Yan were both trying to delay the inevitable parting.

“Your mother is waiting for you,” the Mother said. “You should go back to her.”

Etta nodded, stiffly, squeezed Yan’s hand, then let it drop.

“Goodbye, Yan.”

“Safe travels, Etta.”

Yan wanted to reach out and hug her again, but the Mother froze her body in place.

It was better to let her go. The sorrow would pass, as it always had and always would. The Mother watched, through all of her eyes, as Etta turned and headed up and out of the home, casting a glance behind her at the Yan-body as she reached the door. Even when she was out of the building and on the road, she looked back, avoiding meeting the gaze of the Mother’s other selves. Then she was gone, heading towards the farms, and there were no more eyes left to watch her with. The Mother could have followed her with the power, but there were better uses for that.

With Etta gone, Yan had less outside herself to focus on, so she turned her attention inwards, making an effort to explore and understand what it meant to be joined with the Mother.

That was where attention belonged.

This body could do with rest, and a bath, and hot food, and new clothes. So she sent her on her way, letting the Yan’s body’s instinct move her in the direction the Mother ordained, while she integrated the Yan’s mind more deeply with herself.

Down inside the mountain, there was a place where hot water bubbled up from the ground. The Mother had cleaned it out because it had pleased her, so long ago. All the parts of her that it had first pleased were gone now, but the long chain of memories, and the pleasure of putting a body into the hot water remained.

The Yan-body stripped off her dirty clothes, and stepped into the water without hesitation. The Mother had done this countless times, so there was no need for the body to fear the steam rising up from the surface. She leaned back against one of the rock walls and closed her eyes to guard against the electric light overhead.

Yan was curious about the sphere that surrounded the planet, so she investigated.

This one wanted to know things, so the Mother put her to work. Her focus and connection to the power were shunted off to the group that was maintaining the shield. Constant attention and constant use of the power were the two things that kept this planet safe.

That was how and why the Mother had originally been born. In order to prevent attack, because she had witnessed the destruction of one planet in particular, the Mother had decided that something needed to be done. One single person couldn’t muster the concentration needed to protect an entire star system, and even multiple individuals working together would almost certainly fail. What the problem required was for many people to become completely one with each other. That way they could share the responsibility, the burden, and the joy. They could work in shifts, and provide constant attention, completely synchronised.

It was as though the power had been designed specifically for this. They all fit together so perfectly. Everyone before had felt trapped and alone inside their own skin. Just through the power, they could be whole together. Those first pieces of the Mother had been overjoyed at this connection they had forged, and had reached out to share it with everyone else on the planet that they could. So they came.

Whenever a sensitive on this planet began to grow into their power, the Mother called to them, and they all made the journey here. They were all welcomed inside, and everyone lived out their life, harmonious and understood.

That was why the Mother had bodies of many different ages; people came at around age fifteen, and stayed with her until they died.

Bringing in a new member always made the Mother think about the past. She couldn’t help it. Those memories were still clear and sharp inside of her, pressed onto the collective matter of all her brains. Everything was scattered, but retrievable and redundant, just like a computer.

She decided, back when she first came together, that she should think like a computer as much as possible. So she always split her thinking/processing/acting into different streams for different tasks. It was better and more efficient than thinking of a single mind. This way, the Yan body could sit in the hot spring, while the Mother directed part of the Yan-mind to work on maintaining the shield. Another body looked in the linen stores for tunics that were available, while that body’s mind used the power several kilometers away to turn the soil in a new terrace for planting. The body and mind of the Mother that was currently dedicated to planning all of this, the large scale decision making and conscious thought, sat on the floor of a dark room and kneaded dough to make flatbreads.

It could be overwhelming for her new members, but the Mother was careful not to split the attention or processing power of new ones too severely. Doing too much of that had caused her to lose some pieces of herself. Not physically, but if her bodies were never allowed to think their own thoughts, they eventually just… went away. And the Mother, while she loved being whole, did not enjoy that sensation of emptiness, when one of her bodies was a shell. She had learned that lesson long ago. But as each new member integrated, it would become easier and easier and more natural for that body’s thoughts, feelings, attention, and power to be one with the rest, and to be split or shared as needed.

It could take years for a new member to get fully settled, but even after just a few days, it was hard for them to leave. The Mother knew, because she kept trying it, against her own better judgement. A body that went back off on its own would have a hard time being alone again. They needed each other, all of them.

The Mother brought a tunic back to the hot spring for Yan to wear, using her Jona-body. She looked with Jona’s eyes. The Yan-body was shrouded in steam in the hot water, but there was still plenty there to see. Her skin was rich and brown, and her hair collected drops of water in its tight curls. Her limbs stretched out around her like a tangle of branches, her arms floating loosely on the surface of the water. Her hands curled slightly, the broken fingers soothed by the heat. Though she leaned quietly and comfortably against the cool rock wall, her neck jutted stiffly up from her back.

Jona’s hand reached out, and she pushed her fingers into the space between the wall and Yan’s neck. She felt the contrast between the slick and smooth skin and the patchwork of thick scars. The bumps where the bones had been fused together were alarming. The Mother had never seen anything like that, not done to bones that were otherwise healthy, and she didn’t know if she could fix it. Not right away, anyway. She was angry at the wayward daughter who had done this. On the surface level it was an injustice that the Mother could not abide on principle, but deep down there was a personal, personal anger rolling off of Yan.

That was alright. They all brought their personal grievances here. The Mother dropped her hand, and Jona squatted on the edge of the hot spring pool and kept staring at Yan.. The water rippled out around her as she breathed.

Yan felt herself being observed. She carefully abandoned her task, and she watched out of that other set of eyes and looked at her own body. She opened her own eyes and stared into them out of someone else’s. She observed herself; she observed herself being observed.

She looked into her own face. What was in there?

It was like looking into a mirror, but only the reflection existed. The real person had stepped away, out of the bathroom, and the reflection in the mirror stayed there alone, untethered.

Perhaps the experience was most like that one time in the simulation room, when Halen had recreated that horrible time on the shuttle. Yan had watched herself go through the motions, again and again. Yes, this was the person who had done all that. This body.

The most positive emotion that she could muster towards herself was the same curiosity that the Mother had. Everything else felt flat and dull. Yan had no interest in being that person, in thinking about what that person had done, in remembering where that person had been. She retreated back into the Mother, lending her consciousness and processing power to any task that would distract her.

The Mother was only too glad to oblige with such a request for oblivion. She let Yan’s conscious mind drift away. She wasn’t done dealing with Yan’s body, though. Even if she couldn’t fix her neck without careful time to study and consider the problem, she had abundant practice with healing minor fractures and other injuries. The Mother, though she never really intended to hurt any of her selves, and was generally careful, could be clumsy. With upwards of thirty bodies to manage, mistakes happened.

The Jona-body pulled the broken hand out of the water and held it limply in hers. Drops of water slid off the fingers and down into the pool, where the noise of their falling made a gentle tinkling sound that echoed off the rock around them. It was such a simple thing, to borrow this body’s power, and to straighten bone and knit it back together. It hurt, but the pain was passing, and contained. She made sure to keep the scrap of Yan away from this; she had already felt enough. There was no need to put her through the pain of healing, too.

When it was done, she dropped the hand back into the warm water. The swelling would go down with time. With that task accomplished, Jona left to go work on other things. The Yan-body could stay a while longer. No one else needed to bathe immediately, and the water soothed. All of the Mother took some comfort in it, if they chose to dip into that body for a moment, to feel the heat relax strained muscles.

Soon, though, it was time to eat. The Mother hoisted Yan’s body up and out of the pool. She pulled all the water off herself with a quick tug of the power, and dressed in the clean tunic. It fell to her knees, which was the right length, but it was loose everywhere else. The next time she went to buy things, she would need to buy a new set of clothes that would fit. She would send a body to do that soon.

Almost all of her bodies, the ones who weren’t asleep or busy with more important things, streamed into the main meeting area. The rugs were rolled out onto the floor for her to sit, and the food was hot and waiting in bowls and on plates. In perfect synchronization, she sat down in groups of five, and everyone quietly ate, dipping bread into communal bowls of spiced and roasted vegetables, and creamy sauce. She was a good cook.

As was her custom, the Mother used this time to do a detailed check in with all of her minds and bodies. She made sure that there weren’t any issues left unaddressed, or any deficiencies lurking. The whole could only function if all of its parts were working as well as they could. For the most part, everyone was fine. There was an annoyance at a tangled work problem here, an upset stomach there, a vague discomfort about existing in a body in another place, but it was all standard or minor. To the problem on the farm, the Mother allocated more conscious thought, later. The body with the twisted stomach was sent first to the toilet, and then to bed, alone. And the uncomfortable body… Well, that problem was already as solved as it was going to get. Keeping conscious thought away from it was the only real solution.

The Mother checked on Yan last, as she had already devoted a significant amount of time to thinking about her. A new member was a curiosity like no other, so the Mother couldn’t help turning all eyes towards her at last.

That feeling of scrutiny from all corners was alarming and alienating enough to almost knock Yan out of the Mother’s embrace completely. She was so unused to being around so many people, even if they were all with in her and knowing her as she knew herself. The bread that she was eating froze in her hand, halfway from the bowl to her mouth, as all those eyes settled on her. She couldn’t escape seeing, couldn’t escape being seen. The fear of-- what was it, rejection?-- rose up from her gut.

That was a mistake. Hurriedly, the Mother forced all her eyes away from Yan, and made her stand. She walked her back into the kitchen, where she was alone, with just the humming and gurgling of the industrial kitchen appliances.

If this body needed somewhere calmer to eat, the Mother had the perfect place. She opened the closet where the smaller dishes were kept, and pulled out two sets. From the pots simmering gently on the stove, she landeled out perfect portions into each bowl, making sure to give plenty to Yan. There was no need for her to be hungry anymore.

Flatbreads rested in a basket underneath a cloth, and Yan pulled out a few. She used a tiny amount of the power to hover the food in the air, so she wouldn’t have to carry everything.

The Mother smiled as a memory of being free of gravity floated into the general consciousness. She hadn’t been part of someone who had been to space for a long time. It was nice to have new memories.

She walked Yan out the back door of the kitchen, down a few hallways and up a set of stairs. A room with a big window and a balcony was built right into the side of the mountain. Though the sun had long gone down, the view of the trees was still beautiful in the light coming out from their campus.

Her oldest body was in that room, on a bed, propped up on pillows. Her face was wrinkled, but still tan, and though her beard was long and white, her eyes retained their own sparkle among the collective light.

She was going to miss this body. Her time was coming. Every part of her could feel it. She had been hanging on, just until another came to replace her, and that other was now here. It wouldn’t be long.

Yan sat on the chair next to the bed and gave out the food. Both of them balanced their bowls on their laps and ate slowly as they looked at the stars, dimly visible over the trees.

This body, though old, had remarkable control over the power. It was from the experience that came with both age and the constant practice being within the Mother provided. She especially loved to work with the weather. In her youth, the Mother had sent this body out onto the ocean, to calm storms and redirect winds, to prevent drought and to scatter clouds. Those days were long gone, but the memories and the joy of feeling wind tug at her hair remained. It would remain until this body was gone at last.

The memories would still be there, even after this body departed, but the joy would leave. It was best to hold on to that feeling while she could, before it was inevitably replaced with melancholy.

It was this one, her Lonnie, who had brought Yan here. Her wind had filled the sails of that little boat and skittered it across the surface of the water. The Mother thought that was poetic and fitting.

She didn’t want to lose this body. She had had her for something on the order of seventy years. So many seasons, she had held her for. She wasn’t scared of it, though it was never pleasant, but she didn’t like losing anyone. And this body was the last one to have seen some much-loved others with her own eyes. She was a physical connection to the land of the past and to memory. She hated to see that go.

The Mother let those two bodies eat in peace, the old and the new. She didn’t have to worry about Lonnie going right now. She would know when it was going to happen, but she couldn’t help thinking about it.

Yan didn’t mind that at all. Even thinking about death was better than that whole vast attention being directed at her.

It was never the full attention, of course. The Mother had never once had to bring her full force to bear on something before. She never wanted to. She was strong enough the way she operated now. Bringing her whole attention on something meant that she considered it a threat capable of defeating her.

Unbidden, the image of starships jumping in, armed to the teeth with dogfighters and missiles, floated into her mind. Ah, that was paranoia, but it was paranoia backed by information that she might someday use. The Mother pried through Yan’s memories, seeking out tactical information.

For someone who was both studious and well placed to learn military secrets, Yan had precious little. The Mother tugged on the strings of Yan’s mind to find out why. Questions and thoughts about the Fleet made Yan feel ill, so she chose assignments that had nothing to do with it, and she didn’t seek out information, even when she could have. Guilt was a thick film atop everything, and it blurred ideas and turned attention away as it sat heavily on the body.

It didn’t particularly matter. The Mother had very little inclination to go and act on military intelligence, even if Yan had been able to provide specific tactical information. It was perhaps for the best. It was more important for her to stay here, and to focus her attention on keeping all her daughters on this planet safe. If she didn’t have one more thing to tempt her to leave, that was fine.

After they had both finished eating, it was time to do the sad task that the Mother had brought Yan here for. It wasn’t precisely necessary for her to be here physically, but it was easier. She made Yan lean over, and Lonnie placed her withered hand on Yan’s cheek. The touch was nice, for both of them. The Mother began the process of redistributing the memories that were stored in Lonnie’s brain onto Yan’s. She played them back, and they flashed before their eyes, far faster than life. They went by in the way that human memories always did: abridged and only showing the things that the heart latched onto. The Mother could peer through each brain to see what memories existed, because the power allowed her to do that, but she didn’t have perfect recall any more than any of her bodies did.

For Yan, it was like getting someone else’s life stuffed inside her head, far too much, to process at all. She was worried that she would have random snippets of someone else, or multiple other people, coming up to the surface whenever she was reminded.

The Mother pushed gently on her and told her not to worry. After all, the Mother was in charge of these.

But what if Yan left the Mother?

The Mother answered that question without hesitation. She had left herself many times, and knew what happened to those stored memories. Because they weren’t actually connected to anything else in Yan’s head, they would be nearly inaccessible. A person needed to remember to remember things. They might only appear in dreams, or never, like something seen in childhood and forgotten completely.

That was a relief.

Now, with her memory storage made redundant enough, it was time for her to sleep. The majority of the Mother slept at once, simply for the reason that it was economical to be awake during the day and asleep at night. She left Lonnie alone in her little room to look out over the stars, as that was the way that Lonnie liked it, and returned Yan to the main room. She was careful, this time, to keep everyone’s eyes off of her. No need to make any of her selves uncomfortable.

Everyone went into the storage area, and pulled out the sleeping mats. There were a few extra, just in case, and though some of her bodies had ones that they took every night, many of them didn’t. Yan had plenty of options, and her instinct guided her to one rather than the Mother’s pushing. The Mother laid her blankets out on the floor of the main room, and turned off the light with the power. Everyone curled up, many with each other, tangled in their own arms and legs.

Every body fell asleep at its own pace, but after some time, the collective inertia of sleep all around them dragged even the stubbornest holdouts down into shared dreams.