Time seemed to stand still. Cal reached slowly with one hand, touching the wet patch on her cheek. Her eyes didn’t leave the little girl’s face.

Her colleagues seemed frozen for a second too, before acting in what appeared to be slow-motion. One by one, they turned their eyes from the young ker to the older one, waiting for a reaction. Either they were too stunned to react themselves, or she’d cemented their respect effectively enough in the past half-hour that they backed down from the prospect of speaking for her. She should do something though – say something – or else one of them would decide to take charge.

The problem was, nothing - nothing - could have prepared Cal for seeing another ker on Shaman.

She was a young ker – around questing age – and her complexion was unquestionably that of the Swamp. It occurred to Cal in that moment, oddly, that she didn’t know what the fate of the swamp was in the ongoing war on Xara. Had it sided with the Volcano or the Rock? Or perhaps neither? Swampies were well known for preferring their isolation. Why, then, was there one standing right in front of her?

Spitting in her face?

Cal shook herself internally and rose from her chair. A dozen pairs of eyes followed her.

“Well, if nobody’s getting that keg then I guess I ain’t paying for it.” She lifted a fist in mock triumph.

Contrary to popular opinion, men are just as prone to gossip as women. There was a murmur of hesitation, but most acquiesced swiftly. The more sensitive would have recognised that Cal needed a moment with her new acquaintance; for the others, perhaps beer was just more attractive than watching an unfolding drama between a pair of aliens. Cal took quick advantage as the guards began to drift away and placed one hand on the girl’s shoulder in an iron grip. Without a word, she steered her away from the group – not far, just far enough for her not to feel like a stage actor in a popular play. Being out of earshot didn’t matter, since she spoke the common language of Xara anyway.

“I don’t know what they teach you in the Swamp, kid,” she breathed, “but in civilised society, people don’t spit in the faces of total strangers.”

Finally, away from the crowd, Cal’s racing heart started to ease. She exhaled. With a second’s reflection, she almost regretted the small bite in her voice – almost. The kid just spat in her face, after all.

Nonetheless, she adapted her tone slightly for what she wanted to say next. Her usual friendly manner would definitely be at least somewhat insincere, so she went more for straight honesty.

“What are you even doing here? We’re a long way from home.” She caught herself, and exhaled again. “I’m Cal. Who’re you?”


CALDERA