Excerpt

(from "The Way Of Baa'gh" by Cheryl S. Ntumy)

Red is a sign of decay.

A new patch of it has bloomed on my fourth left leg, until now the only leg that was still blue. Beneath every hot patch on my shell, the flesh itches. It's Tor-Tor calling, reminding me that I cheated it. I've heard Baa'gh say as much when I pass them in Kuu'uum: Ss'ku would be long dead, if not for The Maadiregi.

Easing sideways into a cove, I sink below the sea, pincers opening wide as the cold water soothes my pain. I can't go back to the safety of Kuu'uum. Not when I'm the only Og'beh left in the colony who hunts true Nududu.

A ripple moves through the water as a zje'lili fish passes me. Designated Nududu thirty generations ago for their ability to glow in the dark, the soft billowing creatures have shown no growth since. I turn my gaze to the plants that rise up from the water, seeking more promising prey. Their bright leaves and long stalks mock me. Same as last juzu. Same as ten juzu past. Everything the same, generation after generation.

Only Baa'gh change.

"How many times must we tell you to stay out of the suns, Ss'ku?" Kirikiri's familiar call grates behind me, croaks deep and sonorous. "Leave the hunt to us. Rest in the cold, before you lose all your blue."

"Is there blue left to lose?" Baa'ka mutters. The others click their amusement.

The four Og'beh scuttle to the water's edge, pincers waving. Only Kirikiri and Mmoh have begun to form patches, but red will come for them all as we get closer to Tor-Tor.

I have told them that starting the Nududu cycle again, from plant life or insect life, perhaps even from our tiny cousins in the sea, will yield the best results. We'll find new traits to harvest. We must. But they're so fixated on po-li-tic-al evolution that they don't hear me. Power is the new Nududu, they claim, Empire is the new goal. How does one eat power? I asked them. And they said…thinking is a kind of eating. Keh! It almost aches my joints to be near them.

Og'beh rarely roam the wilderness now that they hunt knowledge like humanoids. As though patrolling those monstrous colonies alongside Empire guards requires any kind of skill. As though it reaps any reward. All they bring home is more mind-stain to pollute the way of Baa'gh.

"You're not at the High Place." My tone is polite. I will honor the class of Og'beh, even if they won't. "Is something wrong?"

"The weaning is close," says Mmoh. "We must go."

I look to the sky, surprised to see how much it has darkened. I lost track of time. Rising from the water and moving out of the cove, I wince at the sensation of warm air on my back.

Baa'ka clicks at my discomfort. "Will you even make it to Tor-Tor? Kiri, look at this shell! Red-red-red, like waterweeds!"

"A miracle you've lasted this long," Tetete hums in sympathy.

"All thanks to The Maadiregi." Kirikiri's eyes swivel on their stalks. "Without its efforts, we would have lost Ss'ku."

"All thanks to The Maadiregi," the others chorus with reverence. Reverence for the enemy. For my tormentor.

I keep the anger under my shell because tonight is sacred, but it breaks me that mind-stain has gripped Baa'gh, our minds and bodies twisted by forbidden ways and mediocre meat. Only true Nududu can cure us, but I have searched all the wilderness and failed to find any.

Is this how we will end? Red and shell-less, selling the way of Baa'gh for a place among the stars? Trading growing for knowing, and believing the lie that they are the same?

No. Not if I can help it.