Clanchild

Shaman

2011-12-07T22:27:00.001+13:00

I was mostly joking when I asked Auntie Gytha to send me a bed-warmer and a shaman, both suited to life on station.

Now there's a man waiting for me to finish the day's admin (and oh, what a day it has been).

He is a shaman, right?

Sleepless

2011-11-24T21:57:00.001+13:00

It seems I have become uncivilised.

Announcements

2011-10-31T20:06:00.000+13:00

| Lutinari Discussion - Announcement |

A short note to let you know that Jacob and I are separating. We're still very fond of each other, but being this close for this long wasn't helping our spirits soar.

I know a couple of you were concerned, when we formed the Syndicate, about what would happen if we ever split. I think we'll all be okay.

========

From: Matariki Rain
Sent: 2011.10.30 18:46
To: Maraueki Atamahara

Thanks for the skirt. The hem weighting moves beautifully. It will suit the dance well.

I have some news for you.

First, Jacob and I have separated. Amicably. Talk to you soon about it. We're trying to make it a tidy break, so here's the formula for the register:

"Matariki Rain Atamahara no longer has, as pera, Jacob Gottii Avenar."

I'm moving out of Hearthstone and looking for somewhere to base myself. New beginnings.

Second, Jonny's back and says he wants to see Maia. I know, he said this last time, too. You know what to do.

Is Kerem resting as much as she should?

Timing

2011-10-31T18:22:00.001+13:00

Jonny's is spectacular.

Light-bearers

2011-10-03T19:11:00.000+13:00

As of Saturday the Lutinari have been together a year.

Imprints

2011-10-01T13:02:00.000+13:00

Hammer my heart into the shape it needs to be; the shape it's allowed to be. To miss him. To take joy in him and with him. But not to relax into that too comfortably.

It's been three months since he said he'd talk to his lodge and to CJ about talking to my clan.

Only three months: I tell people often that the ways of the tribes move slowly, and, especially for us, there's no real need for haste...

But then he speaks about how his assets would be divided by his sept if he should happen to die, as if we'd never spoken of any other way things might be. Could it be that he'd simply forget? I sometimes forget, myself, that he's still under treatment for neurological disorders.

I forget, also, that I'm not so sure about all of this myself. Maybe it's best to leave it as it is. Enjoy what we do have, and hold back enough that...

... that it doesn't tear me apart.

I have a life, kin, work, and other friends. There are connections there to maintain. I've been ambivalent enough about this that I couldn't really blame him for being less than certain himself. And talking about that again could too easily lead us to end something that was doing... just fine. Don't poke at it: enjoy it for what it is.

I'd been willing to take a mark for him.

And I will take his marking again, just as soon as we make some time alone and I can persuade him that he doesn't need to hold back this time.

Company

2011-09-05T23:12:00.001+12:00

Where do you sleep?

When do you sleep?

What do you sleep on? With?

Do you sleep in company -- like, I'd suggest, a civilised person -- or alone?

I'm at Hearthstone, listening to Jacob and Altaen breathing as they sleep near the hearth. We've finally had that dinner I'd promised -- threatened? -- if Altaen worked his security status up to the point where he could bring a ship into Pator, and now, instead of going to rooms and beds, we're curled in nests of blankets and furs on the cushions in the flickering light. Sleep will take me soon, too.

We're so different, the three of us. It's a surprise and often a delight. Something that will have one or even two of us ready to call on the spirits of conflict will have the other calmly saying "Should I care?"... and suddenly the perspective shifts.

There have been some hard times for me lately. They say the only way you can break podders is to break their morale...

... but lying here in the dim, dancing light, fed and warm and in the company of these two very special people, I want so much to help make a space where they can flourish.

Odinnsong

2011-08-13T16:52:00.002+12:00

we
the dead
are gathered to your hall

against the day
brass giants come again
to take our living kin

when we will fight and strike
and claw and call
and die again... again

will there be battlesong?
I do not know
there will be what is needful
and our will

we will be strong

until that day
we feast and fight and train
and wile the time away
in words and works and gain

in the battle's burnings and rebirths
each layer stripped
tritanium, flesh
and self
again... again

will you recall
falling rain?

Tales My Aunts Told Me: The Hungry God

2011-08-11T20:30:00.002+12:00

There was once a god who felt a great hunger.

He sought to sate his hunger with worship, but still it gnawed at him.

He fed on works and riches, but the hunger only grew.

He grasped at souls and lives; at hopes and dreams; at the works of the mind and the truths of the spirit....

But still he could not glut his appetite.

He tried to feast on the other gods and spirits, who turned from him and left him alone.

And when he found that he still ached with hunger despite all the lives and works and riches and loves he consumed....

He ate even his own name.

And that is why the hungry god has no name in the ranks of the spirits and ancestors: he consumed it and became only hunger itself.

Those who follow the hungry god -- the evil god, the god of Amarr -- seek fodder to appease him still, capturing others and throwing them into his maw so they themselves might not yet be completely consumed.

[A similar tale is told in the Mitar clan, as related by Isobel Mitar.]

Insomnia

2011-07-15T10:50:00.001+12:00

It's three years since I received my licence.

It's not a good day. That's not about the anniversary, particularly, just that I've not been sleeping well. Tired. Out of the pod things are a little too sharp and shimmery; voices a little too loud. Stuff that normally wouldn't bother me... bothers me. I want to stay in my pod and turn the input settings right down until I'm floating in a soft, fluffy haze.

Instead... instead I'll dance hard despite the stupid blister I allowed myself to get -- working on a new choreography for Gherkana; must make a time on-planet with Helfi to dance it properly -- manage contracts and payments, listen in on the Sleepy Mindsucker Mystery channels, do something -- anything -- to feel alive, and try to sleeeep.

Suicide

2011-06-09T21:31:00.001+12:00

What does it mean when pilot chooses to walk into the biomass queue? To turn away from all that we are in a fashion so final?

I should ask a shaman or a shrink, I suppose. I don't want to. What would they know of this?

She was not close to me: her adopted kin were closer.

Is it weakness; unable to bear the life? Or the ultimate power; to say to an immortal "Cease!"?

Cake

2011-04-11T02:59:00.004+12:00

This round cake, displayed on a deep red board, is covered with golden-coloured icing and is in the shape of the Minmatar Republic emblem. The separate portions of the emblem are cut from the circle, iced individually and laid back in their appropriate relation to the main portion of the cake. Encircling the cake on the red board is a gilded edible sugarpaste model of a snake biting its tail. Its eyes look suspiciously like tiny chips of morphite.

When cut, the cake proves to be as golden as its rimpon-flavoured icing: sweet-tart, embedded with rimpon peel and cherry-sized round red fruits, and with a soft creamy layer between the cake and the shell of its icing. Embedded in the cake, seemingly at random, are six silver charms.

1. Khumaak
2. Panties
3. Star
4. Torc
5. Rifter
6. Mr. Ouroboros - the Re-Aw Midgardsorm serpent-biting-its-tail

The old-guard Lutinari couldn't make Re-Aw's party. We could send a cake, though.

The tower take-down went without incident.

I renamed my Falcon Millennium Faucet for the op. I don't think anyone had the chance to notice.

Levendi

2011-03-21T09:04:00.003+13:00

The planet has its official designation: system and number. The locals there, though, call it Levendi. That's Levendi with a lilt: Le-VEN-dee. And the lilt and the lapping of waves and the breeze in the trees and the sizzle and hiss of seafood on the grill... all these are now part of our thoughts of Levendi, orchestrated by Altaen as he makes the place personal for us.

I barely know the people, yet. I know, or think I know, how it works when the Angels offer them opportunities they couldn't have otherwise. We'd like to provide options there.

And for Benito, something I hadn't known: his first time on a planet. Sun and wind and the sea.

I watched Benito take a pebble from a beach. Now it will travel faster than light.

Reliabilities

2011-03-10T20:43:00.000+13:00

The Noctis is still a fine salvaging ship.

Jacob still finds Angel ships delightful. (Especially The Mistress.)

Teon is still too large.

Yours

2011-02-08T11:02:00.000+13:00

When it's good it is very, very good.

Maar

2011-02-07T13:49:00.001+13:00

Tie-breaker
Casting vote

Deciding scruple in the scales

Erenda who breaks the balance
Bringing movement

Maar

If I invoke you
Am I prepared
To bear what follows?

Nightmares

2011-01-26T19:26:00.000+13:00

Sansha Kuvakei attacked Yulai. Didn't do as good a job on the station as the Elders did.

Wormholes; havoc; the scent of fear.

There's a man... a thing... in The Last Gate who's a slave-child's nightmare of a slaver. And Ethan, spirits bless him, would rather be open to meeting someone new than sensitive to the discomfort of those he already knows.

Accursed

2011-01-12T15:24:00.000+13:00

My Curses never saw the market. They sold to pilots I know well, and I know they will serve the people of the Tribes. The experiment was informative: it is possible to build slavery-free Amarrian hulls once you have access to the basic blueprints.

Johan suicide-ganked a red miner. "For science!" he declared, and assured the others in the system that they needn't fear, because that pilot was red.

... the first red miner he happened to stumble across.

What's the difference, really, between this and what Rote Kapelle did to CJ?

It's legitimate under our RoE. Does that make it prudent? Does that lessen the evil we do to learn how to avert a greater evil? The techniques of terror are in our arsenal, yes, and we will use them when they further our cause... but do we need to practise them in our own belts?

"On, offspring of Matar! Set free your lands, your children, kin, homes of your ancestors and temples of your gods! Save all, or all is lost!"

But does that justify... anything?

Against the day Amarr invades in earnest.

Against the day we pilots earn our keep.

We are the cursed. So much blood on our hands, to keep the hands of others clean. The people feed our bloodlust, pay the tithe, to make us stronger. We will be their monsters; fight their battles.

Let us be good enough.

Let us be ruthless enough.

Is it weak of me to ask that we not become too ruthless, devouring our own brood?

I am

2010-12-22T00:19:00.000+13:00

Invocation
Altar
Offering

Exalted
Exultant

Ecstatic

Birthday

2010-12-14T23:54:00.000+13:00

Maia is one.

Unsteady steps unsupported. Babbling that starts to take structure. Her eyes have lightened: her hair never fell out. Hugging Maako and Leremai, which they find sometimes inconvenient. She'll move her hips to music while holding onto a chair, and we all make a great fuss of her. Knocking down the towers we build so carefully; laughing as the blocks fly...

Kerem and I lit the light for her. After dinner we sat in the darkened hall as it glowed, and watched the images Jacob had gathered for her: beautiful views of space from his ships. Later, we slept in the hall: Jacob again beside me.

To mark the occasion I transferred funding for the fertility and maternal health project. Roimata will manage things again.

I have hopes.

Wings

2010-11-26T23:53:00.000+13:00

I like this ship.

I really like this ship.

Strength

2010-11-23T23:52:00.000+13:00

When Ulf first came back to us he was broken.

Some say we took a warrior and made him meek.

I say don't mistake bluster for strength.

Perspective

2010-11-23T23:00:00.000+13:00

A week can make such a difference.

I've been feeling a little soul-dry lately. Nothing to worry about, just realising that I feel limited by all the things I can't or won't risk, to the point where I'm not doing much.

So I'm trying to change the way I look at some things. Make the things less important than the actions. Sell off some stock rather than hoarding it because some day it'll be useful. Look at ships purely for their aesthetics, for a change, rather than for what's safe and practical. It's different. Also amusing: I seem to be drawn to the look of ships that are deeply politically inappropriate.

Been talking with Lucian a bit, although mostly in public. He wanted to do dinner; even offered to meet in person, but I didn't think that would be a good idea. We ended up having a virtual meal together while we both ate in our respective parts of space.

He told me he loves me. He'd like us to try 'dating'.

I told him I'm not looking for another lover now.

He'd like to be my confidante.

I can't confide in him: not about the things I work with these days. It's... naive to expect that.

We were close once. He's always been one of those men who's better company on his own, when he's not trying to be the person he seems to think he needs to be around others.

When he's trying to be the person he thinks he needs to be around me?

I still remember walking in on him and Nauticaa in LM 2.0. I probably shouldn't. But it's not my duty to be with him in that way, and I don't want to.

There's no need to be cruel, though.

Through it I had Isobel's comment in mind, about the laziness or hypocrisy of using "I already have a boyfriend" as an explanation of why you're not interested in someone. So I didn't mention Jacob, even though I suspect that might be something he'd understand and accept: he's enough of a propertarian to see it as a matter of property and access rights.

Problem is, it can lead to people waiting for the next breakup -- encouraging it, even -- and hoping that then they'll be in with a chance.

There are people I could want enough to have a wildly inappropriate affair. Lucian's not one of them. I don't feel that way about him.

Any longer?

I'm not so young and admiring these days.

Shards

2010-11-18T08:01:00.000+13:00

I had another uncle, Miika...

Mmmm...

2010-11-05T22:56:00.000+13:00

Jacob is back.

Jacob is home.

Restless

2010-11-05T14:50:00.002+13:00

Keeping busy. Getting over the cold I picked up at Paiho that left me not wanting to face pod goo for a while. Finally managed to sell some of the stock out of the office, but it's really not a good place for a shopfront.

Did dinner at Cia's place with Else. Pleasant. Speculated on what would happen if Aeron tested positive for the pod: I imagine that would not be a happy day for Rhiannon. Aware that we still need to arrange a suitable time for the talk Else would like to have.

Set things up for some simulator training with Ulf, CJ, Benito and Ivan. I like the simulator. Ivan designed me a fit that gets in very close, and I'd hate to have tried it the first time for real. On the sim, however, it was good. He was surprisingly gentle in the ways that mattered. Makes me want to become better. Makes me hesitant about going back if I'm not becoming better.

Went back to The Last Gate, despite the awkwardness since we redded Veto. Caught up with Shae: Caellach's been even more scarce than Jacob this last month. Met a Veto pilot called Raxip Elamp who, at a guess, might have issues about enforced unhappy freedom. Also met Sard Caid. Very strange to do that while I still have kill rights on him, although I was in holo so we've still not breathed the same air. Does that somehow make it okay?

"So Mata, can I call you that?"

"Mmm. Why not? I suppose we're past conventional formalities. Do you prefer 'Sard'?"

And then there was Ethan himself and... nostalgia. A great sodden wave of it. Talking to Ethan brought it all back: dunesurfing, icecream, dancing to his piano playing, and... Jonny.

Maia doesn't know who Jonny is. I've come to wonder if that's for the best.

With Jacob away so long I'm thinking with my head again. Not a bad thing, I suppose, but it's clinical, lacking the surge and impulse of the gene-wisdom and the archetypes.

Instinct

2010-11-02T17:29:00.000+13:00

I'm acting like I want another child.

It's not a good time for that. All sorts of reasons. But the ancestors and the erendati don't care about reasons: they care about what's worked over generations. I've lost people lately. There are gaps to fill.

And the ancestors and erendati still haven't caught up with the fact that in these clones I use most of the time, it doesn't matter what they get me to do.

Except jump home to my real body.

I want my marks again.

Changes

2010-10-28T18:18:00.000+13:00

So much has happened that each time I've thought of writing I've been daunted by the backlog.

Kerem came to stay for a week; her first time off-world. She slept lots for the first couple of days without the kids and then we went exploring the station together, shopping, cooking, checking out the gardens, hanging out... I've missed her. Our lives are so different now.

We left Re-Awakened and formed our own corp: the Lutinari Syndicate. Electus Matari accepted us. I find myself at the head of a sleek and supple group of combat pilots.

Possibly because of that, I've flown again, sometimes successfully and sometimes resoundingly not. The clone with the beautiful body art spent some time in emergency coldstorage and is now being assessed for reuse in one way or another. I'd like the marks back, if they're not too freezerburnt. It might be possible to recondition the biomass.

Maia continues to grow. She's ten and a half months, now. Mobile, although not yet free-standing. Intrigued by the world, but more upset when she's left alone.

Ulf is now the executor of EM. He's given Uncle Ashlar the job of looking after some of the holding corp admin for him, which is kind, but also a recognition that Ashlar's barely able to shape stone any longer. I hope he can still do some last work, since I'd always hoped to have the supports for my own hearthstone carved by him.

Things with Jacob are still intense and primal and tender all at once. We take small steps toward togetherness. The new place is even "ours".

Falcons have been selling below index build price. Raptors have been selling below reprocess value.

I visited The Last Gate again, and fell into conversation with Punx Evangeline. She's converted to Sani Sabik to marry her lover. She tells me its philosophies aren't so different from those of the Fraction: that you can be free if you can defend yourself; that it's about helping friends. I think she enjoys blood-play with her lover, and doesn't know or care much about the rest.

I hear Bacch scammed Viper. He seems very pleased. I wonder if I should approve or disapprove or just accept it as they way things are with them.

I seem to spend a lot of time not saying things. There seem to be so few people I can actually... argue with these days.

Trust

2010-09-04T23:53:00.001+12:00

Earned or gifted.

Wished. Mended. Clung to.

Gone.

Focus

2010-08-09T23:36:00.000+12:00

Many small things. Some larger ones. Not much that fits well into words. Seeing Sansha taking people from worlds. Coming back and wanting to nest.

I want to be around as Maia grows.

As much as possible, I want to bring my work together.

And... I'm spending all my spare time at Jacob's place, which we're talking about making ours.

Bought kei flowers at Rens bazaar. We don't have vases for them so I re-cut them in a bucket, remembering Auntie Yana's instructions for that. Remembering Auntie Yana. The smell of them is sweet and clear and makes me smile, as though it's summer festival time and the houses will be blessed.

It's good with Jacob. It's very good.

I've been gathering things together. Moving my bases. Sorting things out so they're where I need them.

Finally tidying away the remnants of other times. Cleared out Pied en l'Air and gave up the contract on the place. Closed the Dreambridge.

I'll go to Paiho again, and swim in the lake there.

I'll freeze.

Must make sure the steamhouse is stoked.

Jacob

2010-07-18T22:55:00.000+12:00

I need to tell a story.

It's about friendship, closeness, amazingly intense sex and growing intimacy. It's about dreaming dreams together and working together on corp accounts. It's about clans, and plays, and the whole freedom-duty-individual-group thing. It's about exploring our shared darkness, as well as the light, and finding that we call to each other on so many levels.

I do not want to tell this story.

I fear that telling it will make it fade, like dreams in daylight. Or telling it will give it a reality that's more than what we make each time we're together, and I will come to resent that for casting me in a role I no longer want to play.

I've said I am not good with words of love. I'd rather show what I feel through my actions. And... I'm a little broken by dreams that have faded.

But... maybe...

I anticipate future pain. It is sometimes the price of present joy.

And I embrace them both.

Communion

2010-06-30T00:01:00.000+12:00

I have known what it is
to see with your eyes
to be in your flesh
to feel...

Now we must refrain

I will remember

Trancetruth

2010-06-29T23:08:00.001+12:00

Who can I talk to?

Who can I tell the things I'd need to tell for it to make sense?

Who would I listen to?

Auntie Ellie's out among the outworkers. I could find her, maybe. She helped me with Maia. Helped me catch: left me to tear. She works with people who want medicine, or clan news, or who've lost their way and need to know they can come back. My concerns have been... more spiritual. We don't seem to have much medicine for those.

Hey, I don't seem to hear the voices any more, or feel their presence. I miss them.

I can so see that going well.

I'm... involved with an outsider. With him I found the trance state, and the erendati, strongly... and maybe the whispers of the ancestors.

How could I find that with him and not with kin?

Is it all just biochemistry?

Do I care?

When I was a child it was real.

Jonny

2010-06-17T23:45:00.000+12:00

Is back. I had an alert that he was on comms.

Sent him a message. Calm. Civil. Clear, I hope.

He cannot give me answers. Asking would just hurt us more.

Introductions

2010-06-14T23:41:00.000+12:00

Not the most propitious of meetings. Not, I think, how we'd hoped it would be. But done now. A warm hall on a cold night. Cousins from the clan unpacking the kites. Auntie Gytha as the sole auntie at Waimaru that night to greet him and question him. Poor man.

But Jacob got through. Even stayed the night. Strange having him in the unit that Jonny helped build, looking up at the stars through the glass in the gables. But, as he said, he'd spent the day with Jonny's daughter: this was nothing to that.

Strange being with Jacob in my real body, the one that smells right to Maia but is not prepared for him. I'm still not comfortable in it with more than gentle touch.

The next day Jacob played his pipes and I danced with Maia, sweeping her in arcs and circles.

Kites

2010-06-14T22:41:00.000+12:00

The Matar branch of the Culture Revival Movement has been pushing the idea of a regular multi-day festival around this time, with kites and food and such. Thought it was as good a reason as any to grab some people and take a break from the wars.

Flew kites and had a picnic on Matar. Mostly 1st-shift and kin. Found an island with beaches and good wind. A pleasant outing, although Camille was true to form and caused a few tense moments.

It was interesting to see the different ways we scrambled to try to help. Even though most of our efforts weren't needed, it's good to know we have... diversity. Back-ups. If-not-this-then-this.

I dropped by home beforehand and picked up Kerem, along with Maako and Maia and food. Kerem made her kite dance. She also heated the food and was generally useful around people she didn't yet know. I owe her so much. She didn't catch at the gathering, and she's sad about that. I know she'd like a daughter. Maia's heavy feeding didn't help her chances, and to cap it all, Maia's now teething.

I'm looking for some special gifts for Kerem.

Bespoke

2010-06-13T22:39:00.000+12:00

When have I had anything else so personally designed and made for me? My new set of marks, last month. Before that? Clothes built to biometrics, of course, but they're still generic, and the fit and work are not to the same level.

Dance costumes, maybe? Some of the clothes the aunts made for me? But mostly we wore whatever would fit, and it was made generic for that, too.

I find myself eager to see how this turns out.

I need some new clothes: replacements and stock for new bases. Perhaps something similar would work for those.

Resounding

2010-06-11T20:52:00.000+12:00

We all record.

Each word and action logged when in our pods. Outside them, too: the constant buffer from the implants, logging every impulse and sensation.

Apart from combat logs for training, I hadn't thought to play them back.

Or share them.

So that's what it feels like for you when I...

Scheme

2010-06-10T22:08:00.001+12:00

Andreas had a blueprint to sell.

It's not all that much difference, seen rationally, but it's all mine: the materials and the making.

I want to call it Sheath: the little black dress; the scabbard.

That would also translate to handing him a large and spiky condom.

Just how Re-Aw am I feeling?

Scabbard

2010-06-10T18:36:00.000+12:00

Bright-tipped blade,
Cool path tracing:
Tightly sheathed

Heroes

2010-06-08T10:50:00.001+12:00

I saw Kalta Amorto dance Silba'a. Saw it with my own eyes, after all these years. I'm sketching out my own version. Must book somewhere to practice.

Debes isn't dead.

Jake... I have no words. My flesh sings him yes!

Notification

2010-06-01T06:09:00.000+12:00

Dear Auntie Mara,

Yes, you were right that I had someone on my mind through the gathering.

Could you please enter the following in the clan register?

"Matariki Rain Atamahara has, as pera, Jacob Gottii Avenar."

I'll try to bring him to meet you soon.

Yours,
Mata

Fame

2010-06-01T06:08:00.002+12:00

...of a sort.

It's not like Re-Awakened actually uses its boardroom for any other sort of business.

Oh well; here go the announcements.

Metaphor

2010-05-31T22:08:00.000+12:00

We're so used to speaking figuratively that sometimes it's important to clarify when a comment was literal.

Landing

2010-05-30T20:36:00.000+12:00

And after that long virtual marathon it comes to this: sitting cross-legged on a real bed, trying to explain, in inadequate words, things which I don't fully understand.

The reason I've considered Damrak: to replay that scene with me there as a person.

The reason that last time with Jacob was so hard: the sense that I no longer mattered; that he can have what he can hold, but no more. The rest of me... is up there with the bright-coloured birds in the virtual trees.

I must have some room to move if I'm to be there; all of me; engaged. Some sense that what I do makes a difference, even if it's small. Some hope. Take that away, and there is only outward surrender and inward flight.

We'd come so far.

Change tense: We've come so far, and in exploring edges and boundaries we've messed up for a bit.

It was even all virtual. I could have broken the connection at any time. But I still believe it's a failure to quit an engagement once I've committed to it. How do I work on that?

It is no longer a simple thing of lust and joy. It's a more complex thing of lust and joy and negotiation and accidentally/intentionally stumbling into old scenes which I need to learn to avoid completely or replay with altered scripts.

The nanites seem to be settling in okay. No immune response to them, although the spikes in pulse, respiration, etc, had the medics holding me for observation for hours longer than they'd said.

I did warn them.

Hunters

2010-05-26T11:22:00.000+12:00

Damrak is here: hungry, but diverting from his hunting to watch my dancing and marking. He knows; at least some of it. He'd like a chance to mark this body, too.

I've told him 'no'.

Why did I do that? Do I not want to? Am I scared to? Is it – on balance – not worth it?

Once again I've made no promises, yet once again I'm turning down other opportunities. I could have taken a lover for the duration of the gathering. I could have celebrated with my cohort or, come to think of it, with a number of groups. But I haven't. I can almost imagine the report card: “Matariki fails to play well with others and turns down opportunities to bond with them.”

Part of me would like to try Damrak again with me as an equal, or even as the hunter. What would it be like? A struggle and a fight: he's another man I have no concerns about breaking. He's such a hunter – am I wrong to call him a predator? – that I think of him as fair game. I'm intrigued. Not before the marks, though – the clone was barely healed from the last time with Jacob, and Frarn had rolled his eyes at the extra challenges of working with distressed skin. Not after, either: ouch. So no Damrak for me this time.

I'm also... would I want to lie in his arms betweentimes? Would there be – could there be – gentleness and wordplay? Would I want there to be? If I'm trying out some hunting of my own and also making a point, don't I just want to be able to walk away? That was lovely. Have a good life.

Does it work like that? Maybe I could just assume the world into that sort of shape and it wouldn't realise any differently, the way I didn't realise any differently.

Jacob's doing well so far at making me want to stay. I think he understands more of the game than I do. I sometimes think he understands some things about me that I don't yet know. There I was, hoping to be a special and unique flower, and I'm coming to suspect that I'm (also?) a type, with triggers and responses in common with many others. I imagine that with his age and experience you see patterns; know your prey; learn the choreography.

I'm enjoying learning.

If I'm being played, for now it's worth it.

Waiting

2010-05-20T19:02:00.000+12:00

We're waiting for more entries in the lists of the missing from Frarn, Eystur and Lustrevik. Epecially from Lustrevik, where we have kin-houses which are checking their registers.

We won't be ending the gathering early. The decision is to keep on doing just what we would have done. We're more watchful, sure, and there's interest in how the ground-based operations on the other planets have run and what we could do against Sansha if they came here.

I should be used to it by now, the sense that I should be flying. There's almost resignation that each time I embark on something in the traditions that will take me away from the pod there will be some event that will have me feeling I ought to be back there.

This hurts. Purely physical pain that grows and grows and does not diminish until you're suspended above it, knowing it and focused by it. There are drugs for it, if I want them. I don't, or at least not yet. All that willpower training must be useful for something. And I'm feeling it and thinking of his touch. Wise? Perhaps not, but it makes the cut and burn seem something quite different.

Marking

2010-05-20T17:39:00.000+12:00

When tomorrow's work begins there won't be a way I can lie comfortably. From then until the end will be shifts of the skin-smiths, and chanting, and wiping of blood.

It all came together quickly.

I saw the first drawings. Gave some feedback; considered the aunt's comments. After the dance, though, the artists all wanted to make changes. I ended up dancing again for them: the dances Auntie Gytha taught me when I could barely walk, the Atamahara and Maa'Tushindor traditions, the Gallente dance I studied. What they wanted most were my dances. My version of the fire dance; Shura'aia; Plein Air; the water and fire sections of the cleansing series; even my improvisations to Verone's piano playing. I have danced myself for them and they have redesigned the marks for me.

It's going to be beautiful. Strong; fluid; graceful.

I want to wear this design. I want to be worthy of it.

Daughters

2010-05-20T17:37:00.000+12:00

Mother's here. She seems to have taken lessons in holding babies gracefully. I guess that does mean she's useful to give Kerem more breaks, even though the idea of mother actually changing her granddaughter is head-shakingly incongruous. They do look well together. I'm sure mother's aware of that.

We had one of those conversations:

“Jonny?”

“Gone.”

*pause*

“But you're not alone.”

“Correct.”

*pause*

“Will Jonny be back?”

“I don't know. *pause* I hope so, for Maia.”

Why is it still so hard to ask her about my father?

Witnessing

2010-05-15T17:50:00.000+12:00

My teeth are chattering as I write this. I'm wrapped in a blanket with a warm mug of something Auntie Gytha brewed up.

I danced today. For Ko Braya – for the gathering – and to have my marks witnessed. That last bit meant I wasn't wearing very much. And it's cold here. And the dance involved water. Which would all have been okay except that afterwards I was asked to wait around, cooling down, while the techs took altogether too long to confirm that the recordings were clear and uncorrupted. I froze while my people tried to make it through from the other side of the main arena with my cloak.

After they confirmed the recordings I got a surprise: something I hadn't thought would happen so soon. I've been acknowledged as a teacher. I know enough about the dance forms to pass them on, and I'm okay with students. I can, officially, do what I've been doing this last week. This is unexpected and really rather special. And will require another mark.

But the clans have witnessed my marks. When I carry them over ... should I say that my marks will be notarised? The voluval, anyway. I'll have footnotes worked into the new designs.

There's much discussion over the designs for my new marks. Also suggestions about a few other things to add while we're at it. Oh, and while we're here Ulf's getting a mark for the relief of Lantorn.

I'm finding the hard way that not all my marks are visible.

Designs

2010-05-13T09:06:00.000+12:00

I had a chat with Uncle Malmar. Found out that Karnedo Tresh, Jamla Main, Frarn Eisenar and Waneshendi Unver are all here: the best skin artists in Maa'Tushindor. Got cleared to make a call to my clone crew, then started some talks.

I have a plan.

Death-bringer

2010-05-10T16:00:00.000+12:00

Torg Shamaatha Braya is not that old – maybe twice my age. He led troops at the Battle of Tears. He lived. I remember thinking, when I saw him first, that he wished he hadn't.

Torg Shamaatha Braya bears responsibility for many deaths through his career. I noticed him again today, while I was guiding some young dancers, and realised that I bear responsibility for more. Deeper than that: I felt a strange kinship in the sudden knowledge that the erenda of death-bringing has worn us both.

... and I went on and corrected the posture of a young dancer and shaped another's hands into the wind-form. This is the life I first trained for.

Marks

2010-05-10T08:11:00.001+12:00

In my body again, marked with my marks: tribe, sub-tribe, clan, name-mark; voluval; first-child. Stretch marks nearly faded by the treatments. Wound nearly healed.

I've left a clone marked in other ways. I wish... I wish I could have brought those marks with me: to know them, even to show them.

I've had that clone well over a year. It was Kahu's gift of freedom to me: unmarked, able to determine its own beginnings.

While I'm away I'm having that clone marked with my marks. I'd like to live as though it's the real me living my life.

I don't know how to be a peaceweaver who flies and kills. That'll be an adventure.

I find myself wanting to be all my 'me's together.

I want privacy. I want to tell the worlds.

Connections

2010-05-10T06:20:00.000+12:00

Maia is well. Kerem is talking. Ulf is angsting. I'm longing for an absent lover. Situation back to normal.

It's good breathing the same air with kin again.

The gathering is huge.

Last night it rained. I have a pile of bandannas originally in Atamahara red and gold which are now swirls of orange. One of the outworkers got keen and commissioned a batch of them from some generic supplier. I've been coordinating a recall and replacing them with clan-made sashes which use stable dyes.

We need to talk with our outworkers more. The bandannas are a small sign.

Officially, we're in the phase of puzzle-contests, story-telling and dance performances. I'm one of the judges of the fire dance. Win it one year: judge it forever.

Unofficially... the discussions are under way. At least I'm still on the fringe, but being fast-tracked. I wish I felt the confidence I show.

Ulf lives in apprehension of being married off. He's smitten with Carinelle, and mostly happy. He still doesn't seem to realise that it'd take something big for it to be worth it for Atamahara to marry him away.

The problem -- potentially, for him -- is that some of the discussions are big.

Gathering

2010-05-02T23:47:00.000+12:00

I missed the last gathering of the Maa'Tushindor clans. I was hacking up pod goo instead, still learning the trick of breathing it in without choking and gagging.

The time before that I danced the fire dance. Other dances as well. Some private performances. It was an adventure. New people; intense flirtations; quite a few clanchildren born after.

But not mine.

Ko Braya's called the clans together again. This time Atamahara wants its pilots there. We're the blingships in the fleet; perhaps the bait.

It'll take weeks. I really, really wish she'd chosen another time.

Had the chat with Eva. Her advice is a lot like Auntie Gytha's, but -- how to put it -- quite sanguine about the idea that damage happens. I won't think of nanite repair paste or research for structure repair bots the same way for a while.

I'm happy.

I'm having to consider answers to the questions I usually ask.

I'll find a bespoke nanite maker.

Revelation

2010-04-26T22:25:00.001+12:00

Ripe kalakiota fruit splits at a touch, oozing juices.

In his hands I am ripe.

Overheating

2010-04-26T22:23:00.001+12:00

I've finally learnt Thermodynamics.

It just seemed like the sort of thing more-active combat pilots did, not me, and there was always something else to train. But I've been hearing them talk, and thinking that even for me it could have uses.

And then I forgot it, just when it could have saved a ship.

I've barely used that ship in, what, a year? It was the first battleship I fitted all on my own. The fit, now that I look at it, makes me realise that my skills and knowledge have changed rather a lot since then. It's not nearly as tough as my usual ship.

I've looked at other ships I fitted then. I need to review them all. I have ships it'd be dangerous to fly and embarrassing to lose.

This weekend we said our goodbyes to Debes. Gottii and Elsebeth spoke well. I rue that I didn't join more of his fleets. I always thought there'd be time.

We are not immortal. We just have ways to dodge some of our deaths.

Through it all -- the reason I'm not dwelling on the losses -- has been another kind of heat.

I'm very much alive.

Dawn

2010-04-24T23:16:00.001+12:00

Put aside the deaths, for a time.

Together, we will watch the dawn.

Labyrinths

2010-04-19T23:19:00.001+12:00

Too much Jonny: I seem not to speak of him at all, yet to write of little else.

Ulf has no middle ground: no moderately grumpy. Nothing more than a slight set to the lips as many things happen, and then *bam* he's coldly angry, acting without regard for reason or proportion. There are things he's learning now that make him angry like that. I think I've talked him into giving the people involved a chance to explain. I was holding off researching the Orca blueprint until he resolved that, and now Revor has put it on.

I need to talk to Misan about LM 2.0. She has dreams for it, I think. I just had... annoyance, I guess. I made it, pointedly, a place for all people, then stopped using it once I realised quite what that meant. A learning. It still has potential, but would need love and attention.

And I've been walking corridors in company, talking clans and truths and illusions. Enjoying that; surprisingly so. Being reminded of something I said once, about fierce joy.

The erendati stir in me again. Inwardly, I smile to them in welcome.

Responsibility

2010-04-19T23:04:00.000+12:00

I send images of Maia to Jeannette. She sends advice on colic. We haven't spoken about Jonny.

Eight weeks. Nothing since Intaki.

I remember his hurt dismay at Vieve, who -- when he stood her up on the occasion of their planned elopement -- didn't search for him.

He does a good line in hurt dismay. "How could you think that of me?" "How could she have? She must never have loved me." It's never his fault.

CONCORD says he still holds a licence.

My agent peeked into the records and told me he last docked in TWX-EI. Syndicate. Consistent with Moira's operations. From there he could've gone anywhere in someone else's ship.

I wrote to Jules. The awkward question. Received an answer: prompt and formal. Deep cover; they expect him back soon.

His sister was lost in the Syndicate.

I imagine him returning with some self-righteous story about how he tracked her down. Perhaps with some new love: he has charm, moves quickly, and is not made to be alone. Perhaps with reproaches for me: I should have waited for him, I clearly didn't really love him.

I think I understand Vieve and the pitcher of iced water a little better now.

Pera, I have my problems, but this one is yours.

Accounts

2010-04-18T20:32:00.000+12:00

For a year of being debt-free and pregnant I didn't track my working income. There was money in the account: if I wanted more I'd do some work.

Nearly two months ago I opened up my old work-tracking sheets, copied them off and started using them again. Something to take my mind off things. It's bittersweet. Last time I did that was when I was working my way out of the clan debt. I'd met Jonny and he was helping me break that huge job into pieces so I could track my progress and take each next step.

There's still a column in the worksheet for kisses.

I could remove it. I probably should remove it. I'm not quite ready to yet.

Lace

2010-04-12T23:27:00.000+12:00

After my Caldari ships, flying the Dramiel is like slipping into slick, silk satin.

With hard, sharp, filigreed accessories.

Colic

2010-04-12T23:26:00.000+12:00

Three weeks of wars, and Maia screaming.

These, too, shall pass.

And so they have.

She sleeps, and so do we, and once again I leave.

Consoled through it by kin, and by real words in unreal settings. Real feelings: real fears. Gentleness among the wounded.

I can laugh, and tease, and argue plays and duty. I can know desire, less damped now by despair. Beauty cuts me: sometimes I turn away.

Seven weeks with no word.

I dream of furs and fever and Maia's unappeasable screams.

Völuvala

2010-03-08T23:40:00.000+13:00

It's becoming a tradition: breakups and Völuvala concerts.

Good concert. Good to spend some time with Ulf.

Good to spend some time lost in the pulse and the crowd.

Even in stompy boots I can dance.

Grounding

2010-03-07T16:50:00.000+13:00

I've been home the last few days. Being with Maia: playing with her, bathing her and cleaning up the incredible amount of drool she seems to be producing at the moment. Talking to Kerem about her Maako, who's into everything now. Sometimes, of an evening, retiring to my place and jacking in to catch up with what's going on in the cluster and chat in virtual venues.

There are stories people tell about relationships: stories we tell ourselves while we're in them; stories others tell about them and might not ever tell the principals. I feel like those stories have been shifting around me over the last two weeks, seeking a new stable state that will become the common knowledge about me and Jonny.

Just before the end, it seemed that Re-Awakened had finally grouped together behind Jonny. I think some of them thought Bacch might be serious in his stated campaign to woo me, and decided Jonny wasn't so bad after all.

Since the end... it's been hard hearing out the people telling me they were surprised we lasted so long; that we never seemed to have much in common; that they're glad of my choice.

As if it were just my choice. As if, had I chosen differently, things would have turned out differently.

I could choose to accept all this: accept the righteous sympathy and acknowledge lessons learnt. I could be smothered back into the embrace of the tribes, ready to become a model Matari pilot with a nice Matari man.

I loathe the thought.

It wasn't like that. Yes, I know – perhaps more clearly with hindsight – that we came together when we were both alone and lonely, exiled or rebounding. We were, perhaps, too different, and not always patient or kind.

But I know the rest of it, too, and I'll not tarnish my memory of that to ease the pain of losing it.

I will try to learn, though. About saying no as well as yes. About it being okay to be me, even if that costs us us.

It's been good, being here. We'll be at war again soon, though, and the engines will need to be stoked. I'll go to the labs and factories and watch Maia through images and Kerem's recordings. Perhaps I'll even fly.

Why?

2010-02-25T22:11:00.000+13:00

Lucian asked me why.

How can I say that I don't even understand what our last argument was about? That those reasons aren't the real reasons. That Jonny stormed out again and I realised... that this time I wouldn't follow.

That was yesterday. Today was anger.

Fuck you, Jonny. I did my best through all the crap and I deserved better.

And then deflation.

And so did you.

Someone hurt me, Jonny. Someone hurt you, too? Could we cry in each other's arms and make it better?

Then the real world returns.

Free

2010-02-25T07:32:00.001+13:00

Reports are coming through that Intaki is free.

Free from Caldari occupation, that is. Now able, I hope, to work out for itself how it feels about its role in the Federation.

Moira.'s done good work. Jonny should be proud.

I should be happy.

Endings

2010-02-22T14:12:00.000+13:00

It's been over a year.

Joy. Audacity. Stories woven together. A daughter.

So many arguments and misunderstandings.

I'm worn out.

My heart aches. Why is who I am not right for you? Not right?

I still wish, but I wouldn't any longer call it hope.

I'm walking through the station mall in Gulf. Just walking. There are people. They don't know me. I move through their cool indifference.

What kind of peaceweaver am I if I can't even manage my own relationships?

I've spent so long not talking about the problems to anyone else. Least said: soonest mended. What do I do now? Once I tell Auntie Mara and the clan... they were getting to know him, to like him, to think he might have a future with them. Once I tell them, it changes. Once I tell them it becomes real.

Am I as concerned about failing as about joy?

When do you say 'enough'?

When do I say 'enough'?

I think I just did.

Please let this not be real.

This is real.

Ancestors and erendati, I am not myself today. Guard me while I fly, for I am falling, voiceless, into the void.

Hitches

2010-02-09T07:28:00.000+13:00

I still can't think why I'd say yes. But people do: there must be a reason. Perhaps there's some definition of things that makes more sense.

It would be hard to say no without breaking things: families, hearts. Is that why people say yes?

It would be amusing - darkly - to find I'm the better freecaptain.

Tears

2010-01-24T09:42:00.000+13:00

I'm leaving her.

I'm feeding her one last time. It still hurts. Each time the contractions; the scars below still healing.

But the milky softness of her; sharp fingernails; strong grip. Sometimes she looks up at me when she's suckling and I feel a desire to protect her that's so strong...

I'm leaving.

Putting my body into special storage where they'll dry me off, heal my new mark. Shucking off the bonds of blood and slipping into cloneflesh again, unchanged since before all this.

They're all here now, to see her claimed as kin. Mother came. Even Uncle Ashlar stood on the same ground as Auntie Mara tonight. She's one of us now, in her own right, her placenta planted in Paiho, her small body washed in the water of Waitimu and clan-marked in ash and oil, salt and blood. Kerem will nurse her and dry her tears, and she will have blood kin and milk kin to stand beside her as she grows. She has a place and a people while her parents roam the stars.

If I just I keep saying it.

It's also the end of this time with Jonny. My new place is built, and was blessed after Maia's naming. He's done well, working alongside the clan to make something.

I look into her eyes...

I've been checking ships. My crews are ready. I've been debating freespace in virtual bars. My mind is already elsewhere.

My heart is tearing.

Connections

2009-12-12T14:29:00.000+13:00

I've not needed these words for months now. Life's been too full: home and building and the Culture Reclamation group taking off. And now I feel I should record some of what happened so it's here to come back to and remember.

In October Jonny brought his mother to Paiho. Jeannette Damordred. He smuggled her out of Placid despite the wars. I don't believe his father knew about it.

She's much like I expected, I guess. Teaches foreign affairs. Professor. Lives with strong-willed men and calmly does what she chooses.

It was good to meet my daughter's other grandmother. I think I could respect her. Maybe like her. I have a secure comm link for her, for talk and baby pictures.

Jeannette arrived during a discussion about a place for me at Paiho. I've been staying at Waimaru when I'm home, but it's not an easy place to have Jonny stay. An irony about Gallente: they're supposed to be the exhibitionists of the galaxy, but they're not comfortable in full-on communal living.

Ulf and I had talked about building a place for me, and for Jonny as well. Ulf seemed almost keen to find a way to bind Jonny to Paiho: for us to marry or Jonny to be adopted. I'm ... less sure. Not unsure that I want to be with Jonny, just...

Acacia suggested to me that I'm too serious about marriage. I want it to mean something. I expect it to be an alliance, involving 'Politics' and 'Duty'. And I want this -- this thing with Jonny -- to be... joyous, somehow, rather than dutiful. To be something we're in because we want to be; something we're moving towards rather than something we're struggling to get away from.

It seems I'm not alone in that: Jonny didn't want to be part of a bid for a couples unit, with all that that would entail. I requested a unit for myself. Not a normal request. Not usually a needed one. But I traded a little more of what the clan owes me for the right to try to raise support to build. And I got that: Ulf and Auntie Mara, and then talking to Waimaru and getting the house support, and then the rest.

And Jonny. Jonny at Paiho, working alongside Enki and Angel and Taine and all the rest. Jonny stripped to the waist building.

Oh, he is fine, and he is mine.

Is that strange to say, given what I said before? Ashar says I've joined the club of people who put up with freecaptains. I'm making a life which works for me, where he's welcome when he passes through, but it won't be the end of things if he wanders off.

He needs to be needed, but all I can give him is that he's wanted, and welcome. And maybe the chance that he could belong.

What else will I need to write about, to catch up? About the site we chose and this small place that's mine. About Elsebeth Rhiannon and tea. About Gerrard DuNord, and how our stories cross even though we've still not met. Of wars and the re-awakening of Re-Awakened: of feeding towers and jamming enemies and being the dodgy ones. And about the dispersion of EM for a time to meet some specific aims in factional war.

But now the workers are coming in and I'll stir myself and greet them.

Doubt

2009-10-13T21:41:00.001+13:00

I met a man of faith in the house of all pleasures.

I've known some pleasure there, although mostly the companionable kind. Holding my knees, my toes tucked under Lucian's thigh as he told me stories of the Great Northern War. Teasing Ravenslock about his eyebrow's wayward apostrophe and his forays into booster sales.

But faith? Faith in the house of the freecaptains?

Ashar's voice; insistent; cruel; quoting Fractionite rhetoric: "'Freedom is a jagged bitch, a barbed-wire dream of agony and yearning, a wide-bore firearm clutched in shaking hands and pointed close at the face of God, a siren scream to pierce the heart and banish ease and complacency forever.' Did Jonny ever tell you that? That's what he was, you know."

And yet I found a man of faith among the Fraction.

Ricardo speaks of his faith. It's solid to him, sure, undoubted; there in hard times and in good. His soul is what makes him him.

He woke a clone, to see what it would be like; to ask questions. Found it was another person, as perfect and ensouled as he, himself. Now his two faces walk the worlds; make their choices.

He is not untroubled, but he is... comforted.

I cannot speak to him of doubt. I can only envy him his certainty and try to warm my hands at it.

Home

2009-10-04T23:18:00.001+13:00

Sometimes a golden age can last decades, even centuries. Sometimes a few weeks must suffice.

I've been so confused this last month. We had such a perfect time at Pied en l'Air; just us and the dogs and our work. I was choreographing Lena Ferat's Plein Air, trying to catch the sense of walking under a sky, remembering Paiho and the lake and feet on the ground of home. Jonny... Jonny was reading and talking to people and deciding to stand for the presidency. We worked side by side; trained the dogs; flew together. He agreed, at last, to introduce me to his mother.

I thought maybe this could be a life for us.

I was happy. It was... home.

I will remember that.

Then the note on the pillow, hand-written, like my first note to him. Mata, I must go. Things are brewing that need my personal attention to succeed. Think fondly of me, my darling... And the sudden realisation of how alone I've allowed myself to become; how dependent on him for company.

I was packing my things to go home to the clan when he returned. Will I always be the peaceweaver, wanting us to work things out? Am I too greedy, wanting him to be there for me, for us instead of off on some wild scheme for his people? Am I just too fragile now, ready to feel abandoned so easily? I don't know. Again, we made it up. I'll go home to Paiho until our daughter is born. Jonny will visit me there, when he can get away from his work with the militia.

He says he will visit. I steel myself to see how it will work out.

And after... we'll stay there then, too. I'll talk to the aunts about us taking a couples unit together. Ulf was there when we talked about that, and suggested different ways Jonny might come to have a right to Paiho. He'd like it to be tidy, I think, but the options all seem so deep with meaning. How you connect a freecaptain to a new home? How is it that he's now feeling a connection to his old home - his old homes?

And Paiho.

I'm not meant to be here, now.

Home at Paiho; that's okay. But I've come home for the ancestor rites. There are disapproving looks and murmurings as I haul my grossly gravid self into the meeting house. I care, I guess, or I'd not be mentioning it, but right now I miss Auntie Yana and I miss Jonny and I'm always being controlled and calm and acting like I have a right to do what I do; like I don't hear or don't mind all these different expectations about what I'm meant to do or not do to look after this baby. It was awkward enough when I was here for Auntie Yana's funeral. Now, the waiting period is done and she's made her journey and returned to Paiho and will be received into the clan pantheon along with the other ancestors.

Or so they say.

I want to feel their presence again.

Do I not feel them because I no longer follow all the clan ways? Did they not recognise the descent from Rona'a in my cloneflesh, and lose sight of me?

Do they choose not to talk to me, or are they not really there?

Which would be worse?

I'm home, among kin, in a place where I belong, trying to feel like I belong.

The erendati still call to me. I dream of whirling in the dance until I'm only that-which-dances.

Hirami

2009-09-01T23:32:00.000+12:00

When fire and water were first separated there was a space set between them.
A void, that on each side might be things which could not mingle.
We fly in that void to cross between the many things.
We bring the knowledge of one to the other.
But we respect the void and maintain the separation,
that fire and water may both be.
That that which is outside be kept outside, and that which is inside be kept inside.
That life and death may be kept distinct,
and that, although the memory of the ancestors guides us, their spirits are not troubled by the living.
These things we remember. These things we hold.
That I and not-I may be kept in their allotted places.

Leaders

2009-08-29T23:39:00.000+12:00

I don't know which one to begin with.

Eva is standing down as leader of the Electus Matari and Jonny is running for president of the Gallente Federation. All I need now is for Ko Braya to develop a sudden interest in family life and the circle of change would be complete.

Eva's been weary for a long time. All work and far too little chance for play and study and things she enjoys for themselves. Maybe now we'll get her back as she was: sassy and footloose. I'm concerned about the Electus, though, and who will follow her as leader. I know the power of a figurehead, even an absent one.

Oh, and before this happened I finally got my EM forum settings fixed, so I can follow the discussions properly. Timing. Much discussion about the Great Wildlands and whether the arrangement the Thukker have as an autonomous state within the Republic means we should try to bring Republic law there. I think not, unless the Thukker ask us to. Others think otherwise. I'm still working out whether it's worth making the case.

Jonny, well...

From the time he first mentioned it it's been more than just another wild dream. He's been restless since the Freespace Summit. This seems exhilarating. A platform to present his ideas. A way to engage with people who aren't pilots. A way to do what he thinks the Fraction fails to do.

Even if they let him stand, they couldn't possibly let him win.

Could they?

And besides, our victory condition isn't winning the election, but getting the message out. Putting some life back in the freespace movement. Contesting the battleground of people's minds.

Our victory condition... ?

We talk about politics a lot, but largely from the position of trying to bridge a gap beween us. We both want people to be free to live the lives they choose. What that means, and how we should act to make it happen, are things we debate. Until now it's seemed largely an academic debate. I was unhappy with his RoE in Rote Kapelle. He'd like the Electus to be more active in our pursuit of our goals. I accept that CONCORD is corrupt and the Republic less efficient than it could be, but I still want my daughter to grow up in the relative safety of the clan on Matar. In a choice of life or freedom for other people, I guess I'd choose life. I guess Jonny would choose freedom.

But it has been mostly academic because things aren't perfect. We're not all podders. The dream of freespace isn't yet a practical dream, and the practical steps that are being taken towards it are largely by us, with information and community, in low security space.

Now... what will he say? What would he do if he did win? How many lives... ?

But as things are with the Federation, how many lives if something doesn't change?

Maybe this is what hope looks like.

I was looking at ships today with people from EM. When they heard about Jonny's campaign they suggested I hire security. I'm not yet ready for that. I think I have at least a few more days in the (relative) shadows.

As my belly grows my marks are stretching and changing. Is it my destiny to be a true peaceweaver and not just a pledge? How can I do that coupled with a trickster, a free spirit, a force of change and chaos? Can he also be an effective leader? A useful figurehead?

Are these just my old memes? How can I be me around the whirlwind that is Jonny? How can I be me except around him?

Mother would know what to do.

Plumbing

2009-08-25T20:23:00.000+12:00

It seems I've spent the last month listening to reports about pressure valves and waste and pipes that don't quite meet.

Kargeen, Valher and Enki managed to get the modules for the medical centre down to Paiho. A big job, and one to be proud of. Since then the news has all been about assembling them, securing them to the foundations, lots of customising to set space modules up for use in atmosphere, cladding... and plumbing. The planetside plumbers wanted some station-based plumbers to explain the special features of the modules. They could have worked it out themselves, but this way I guess they get to learn from the experts and get contacts in space. Call it training and networking. I smiled and reminded them that Roimata is the project chief and can authorise payment. And that there will be external assessors checking the work.

Jonny and I have taken a station suite in Gulf. Our first place that's ours together, not a virtual dream or one of our hab modules or a numbered station room rented by the night. It has a window -- such a luxury here -- but it was completely bare except for a large steel bed frame welded to the wall. There were connectors for services, but everything else was up to us. Everything. I called it Pied en l'Air. Jonny called it Peed in Air. I told him if we didn't get a plumber soon he might be more accurate than he'd wish.

I've asked again to meet his parents so I can know our daughter's other kin. He's still delaying, although he has said he could maybe arrange a meeting with his mother on the sly. He and his father don't talk.

We're working on Jonny's sec status. That matters. I like flying with him when we do this: his voice calm on comms as we work together on things I understand.

Now that we have a place for them I've brought the puppies back from Hek, where Jonny had left them in care since... before he could no longer fly there. They're no longer puppies but not yet fully grown. Bouncy. Strong. Friday's taken to growling at strangers and Rico's spraying. They'll need some time and some rules and probably some trainers who are better with hounds than we are. Jonny's indulgent with them. I'm waiting to see how committed he is to their care now that they're with us. That matters, too. Jonny's planning a crib and change table in our new place.

Ulf thinks there's trouble there, and wants to help. He's looking for a way to pay back some support from when he was miserable about the break-up with Ciarente. More stompy music and a visit home. We went out on the lake and pulled in silver fish. It was grey and gusty. I had to clip my hair back to stop my hair-bead beating bruises into my cheek. My eyes ran, and even I don't know whether it was just the wind. Then Acacia's stew and Angel's teasing and quiet time with Auntie Mara in the workshop. And wishing Jonny were part of it all, so at the end of a day working with kin I could go home-within-home to a place we shared and have him rub oil into my stretching belly while we talked about politics and how I should take better care of my drones.

That's another thing: the more personal plumbing. Pregnancy squishes the space your bladder has to expand. There's a difference between knowing this and feeling it.

There's a difference between knowing and feeling so many things.

I hope we can get all the various connections working.

Quickening

2009-07-27T11:16:00.000+12:00

She moved!

I'd been hoping. Fretting a little that something might be wrong. I love home, but I'd wanted some time away, some time flying. To kick off against a station, stretch my arms toward a star and feel the erendati moving with me. Fire in my left hand, water in my right, as I speed into the void. I've missed the blue-shift of warp. So I changed to a clone to spend a couple of days undocking without fear.

On returning to my body there was Jonny, for real, in the flesh. I think... I think I've known this body of his before: the smell and taste of him were familiar. Dozing in his arms felt deeply comforting...

And then she moved.

A flutter. She's too small yet for kicking that feels like kicking. Jonny said she was probably dancing. I liked that thought. Some day soon he'll be able to feel it, too.

Girlchild

2009-07-12T22:11:00.001+12:00

Well that's that settled.

Maybe that explains why I just couldn't think of a name for a boy.

Ancestors

2009-07-12T21:40:00.001+12:00

It's been busy since Auntie Yana joined the ancestors. Haven't really been wanting to write. All those words between pilots about practical immortality seem pointless when people die back home.

We're lucky. Haven't lost a fighter for a while. Nearly lost Halani when she lost the baby, but didn't. Safety standards are improving at Paiho, too. So it's age and illness and our elders walking into twilight. Auntie Karita last year and now Auntie Yana.

I say it's okay, and it is, but each time one of them dies it's a tie to home broken. I don't feel them at the burial grounds the way I did when I was a child there. I feel the erendati as forces of nature, especially when I dance or fly, but without the ancestors to keep them in balance I guess I fear I'll spin out of control and not find my way back.

Except I will find home, for a time at least. Maybe not with the ancestors to guide me, but with this child.

Mother came home for the burial. I hadn't seen her in a long while. She looks as well as ever, and I still feel like a gawky child beside her. Her latest protector is a Gallente cultural attache. He reminds me of Marc, from when I studied dance in the city and went to live with her. The clanfolk look at us and murmur about the women of our line having a thing for Gallente men. I guess I know better than they do that Mother's tastes have been cosmopolitan and well calculated, but I'll agree that her Gallente men have at least been pleasant to look upon.

We're not close, but maybe we want to be? There's something about this new child, who'll do the ancestor rites for her in her time. She can't understand why anyone would want to go through a pregnancy -- once was more than enough for her -- but she seems fascinated at the prospect of the child. I imagine the fascination will pass, or will flare at odd moments with expensive gifts. I felt suddenly jealous at the idea that she might decide to play with my child and I'd be away flying and ...

Others will feed this child, and change it, and play with it. Others will spend the long nights walking with it when it will not settle, and will reward its first babblings and first steps. That's what it means to bear a clan child. I know this.

I don't think I knew what it meant.

That's tomorrow's trouble, though. Today's is to go see Auntie Ellie for the scan we delayed for Auntie Yana's farewell. Maybe this time the child will take after its grandmother and not keep its legs crossed.

Building

2009-06-28T10:29:00.000+12:00

We haven't built at Paiho since before there were podders. Hard times, risky investments. What money there was going into gear for the fish-farm and fancy offices in the city. We were land-rich, kin-rich and cash-poor.

It's been a year since the scheme to raise money against the land failed. A year since I was sold into service... since I went into service voluntarily to clear that debt.

They're not used to having money. Not sure what to do with it, or how to make decisions about it. They don't know how to plan something new: bewildered by the openness of possibilities. Give them something to scavenge and repurpose, though, and watch their eyes light up.

When I funded the project to build a medical centre I'd thought we might build something new. I was wrong. It's too early for that. But we can craft something that works.

You can build a ship in hours, so why should it take a year to build a surgical unit, research lab and clinic? And it needn't, if you're willing to use standard-issue ship components. So I've said I have some unused hab and lab and medical modules in the back of a hangar, and they're organising to get them down the gravity well to Paiho. That should be a fun challenge.

I ran into Jack Madison in the Gate. I don't think we'd spoken before. I'd seen him at that party at Sakura's place: the festival of alcohol where I wasn't drinking because Jonny and I had begun trying for this child. It was oddly reassuring to talk to a pilot who's been through it all before. He had a suggestion, too – something his fourth wife had done – about playing the same piece of relaxing music you like each time you go to sleep, so you're conditioning the child to settle when it's played. It sounds like what Kerem did with the bell she wore on a long chain, but more so. I've been playing music to pick something: Mirrors in the Mirror would be my choice, but would it break the clan's heart to play it? Is Seven Clans more something to get a child's attention while its crying, and then tone things down afterwards?

My pod swimmer, my aquanaut, my alpha strike: let me introduce you to music as one of the joys in life.

Jack also asked if I had things set up for the baby. I have and I haven't. There's stuff at home: there are always babies. But I realised then that once again we're always making do, and that once again I could make the clan dependent on my money if I change things the wrong way. I'll talk to the aunts. There should be plenty of money in the clan's accounts now for good-quality baby gear if it wants to replace things.

I felt a little silly admitting that I'd commissioned a cradle. So trivial a thing, of use for so short a time, but so symbolic. When the practicalities are taken care of by others, maybe the symbolic is all I can do. But let's not think of that now.

Oh, and the gap in the words has been because I've been dancing! It's different, but even with Jonny's long absences it means I'm sane again.

Entropy

2009-06-06T12:09:00.000+12:00

A hard few days. When the Saucy Harlot died she took 46 of her crew with her. It took me until this week to get the list. I've been explaining to families why their kin were killed by our side.

I do understand how it happened. It's just that if things are that broken I don't know that I want to find crew for a ship like that again.

I told Jonny he reminded me of freedom and choice and also of forces I need to protect myself and our child from. He was incredulous and wanted to know if I saw him as dangerous. (A pod pilot with his record? Shocked?) I told him I knew he could be dangerous if he wanted to be, but I didn't feel unsafe with him. (True. So why does it remind me of mother's words to a patron?) Those he flew with, though - did he think they'd hesitate to shoot me if they had the chance? I am not Electus Matari: he is not Rote Kapelle. But still, we fly with them.

Then CJ lost a ship and crew to Rote Kapelle. Not for a reason, but because they could. I stammered my... what? Sympathy? Apologies? Then I went to the workshop to research drives and miners: anything that's not weapons. I felt Eva's absence in the disarray on the hangar floors, and again felt helpless to help. Would I trust me if I were them?

I'm sleeping with the enemy. Gladly. Gloriously. And with a sense that whatever choices I make, part of me dies.

Negotiation

2009-06-02T00:03:00.000+12:00

Jonny is back.

The long stint in the bath before I got his message only meant I was well primed and most likely a little too keen. But yes. Very definitely yes. We're still a good fit.

There was also, though, a lot of talk about our relationship. I think we're both sick of the talking. I am, but I keep hoping that one last foray will mean we understand. And I did learn some things.

It's complicated because it is complicated. He wants to be trapped, but he wants some real choice in the matter. And he wants to be free to leave at any time without repercussions.

I think this means he wants to feel needed without actually being needed.

And when he talks about need -- about whether he needs me -- that can be symbolic need. To represent something. Not 'need' like I use it, for air and water.

So we are making headway, I think.

I'm trying to puzzle out what he is, rather than assuming he's what I expect a freecaptain would be. I think he still doesn't understand what it means to be a clanchild, and how the concept of family is different.

Afterwards there was Gyng, and, well, family. Maybe I'll find words for that later. For now I'll think about Jonny, and smile.

Threes

2009-05-31T07:23:00.000+12:00

Why do they measure pregnancies in thirds? Some archaic custom, I guess, but why?

Tomorrow marks the end of the first third. I'm hoping my second third will be what Auntie Mara calls the contented cow phase: getting over the dragging tiredness and the worst of the ups and downs, and into a time of productive energy and serenity. I'd like it if dancing didn't make me ill, even if it's just for a while until my balance goes and my joints loosen.

During the week Ulf asked why I wasn't getting hassled by the clan about getting married off. I think he's been avoiding visits home because he feels he'd face the inquisition about whether he's found a good woman yet and whether he could do with some help. I counted off the reasons: I'm still getting some leeway because they feel guilty about my contract, I think they still have hopes about Jonny, and for some reason it's not usually done to arrange a marriage when the bride-to-be is pregnant with someone else's child.

But the truth is that it's different for Ulf and me. Ulf will father children for the clan only if he brings a woman home. Otherwise his children will be part of the wider kin-group but not of Atamahara. Has he been away too long that he forgets that? My children are the opposite: Atamahara by default, with the blessing and curse of Rona'a. Viewed rationally, the clan has reason to want me happy and here and not too attached elsewhere. That was overridden by the threat to Paiho and the fact that the pod made me valuable enough to counter that threat, but now the threat is past...

Why was it me they contracted away to save Paiho? Why not Ulf? I was there, and newly graduated, and biddable. He was already a veteran of podder wars, and contracted elsewhere. I was glad to have so clear a way to serve. So why does it still rankle?

Things are different now. They could try to arrange an alliance using me -- and an alliance is the only reason they'd have to marry me -- and I could say no.

No matter. Tomorrow I fly to Gyng. I said I'd take Karlstein back to his father, and while I'm there I'll see if I can make some headway negotiating between the old man and Auntie Mara. How can two people I respect so highly be so impossible with each other? How can two people who must once have loved each other be so impossible together? And if it can happen to them, could that happen to me?

I was thinking of them both as I packed: the things they've made, common and special, that are part of my life. The clan-dress of fabric Auntie Mara wove, and the broad long sash under it that will support my back as my belly grows. The hair bead Uncle Ashlar carved to replace the one he gave me as a child, and the guardian pendant I now wear that he carved for Auntie Mara when she was pregnant with his son.

I think Karlstein is turning out well. He's a carver, like his father. I think, if not that three of our four parents are from the clan, the clan would have liked a child from me and Karlstein.

Argh! What does it mean that one of my kinsmen is starting to look good to me? Maybe I will get that mid-pregnancy burst of energy and enthusiasm, and where in the void is Jonny? I've made him no promises and asked nothing back, but I would have liked... would still like this to be our child together.

I guess I hadn't considered all the different ways that could be difficult. Hrmph. And now I'll go and enjoy one of the benefits of being planetside and take a long and decidedly luxuriant bath. In the small bath-house. With the door wedged shut.

Heartbeat

2009-05-27T22:45:00.000+12:00

One heartbeat. All the expected lumps and bumps in the appropriate places and proportions. Sometimes "normal" is worth celebrating.

Also worth celebrating is that I finally received the standing with the Republic that Eva had requested of me when I joined Re-Awakened.

I'd been worried about the time I'd been spending in pod. Now that I've done this, perhaps it's time to settle.

Can I? Settle? My dreams are strange and vivid. The ancestors would keep me home: the erendati would lead me in a dance of fire and the interstellar void.

Words

2009-05-25T22:16:00.000+12:00

Words aren't my thing.

When I need what others need from words I find the rhythm and the melody, and dance. It's always been this way, as long as I can recall.

Even when I first changed bodies to the disposable puppets of osteoplast and recycled biomass that I mostly use when I'm flying, the first thing I did was try dance steps. The feet weren't strong enough, the hip flexors not flexible enough, so I made notes for my clone profile.

Except that now I'm not dancing, and the things that come out in dance have nowhere to go. So Auntie Ellie has suggested I try words.

Words, words, words....

We've fought too much over words. I should be thinking about "freedom" and "self-determination", but just now I'm thinking about "I think I love you, m'dear". The start of our first fight. About words and actions and misunderstandings. About sitting on his bed with the quilt the aunts had given him wrapped around me as he stormed out the door to go get drunk.

I'd tried to tell him about mother. About the illusions of love she traded in, and how the words made me feel hollow even though I knew he meant them well. By then he was too hurt to listen or care.

We made it up. I learnt to call him "love". I learnt -- again -- not to talk about some things.

Actions matter more than words, but the words give meaning to the actions.

I'm thinking too much. Home in body but not in spirit. And the body is so strange: so tight and tender and richly ripe. So transforming. So creating. So, so tired. I'm becoming something else, my boundaries shifting and blurring. Sometimes I just want to cry.

But I'm surrounded by the fabric of clan life where there are dramas that need action, unlike mine. Kerem's boy is crawling and into everything. Auntie Yana is dying, slowly, her bones crumbling and organs failing. The feud between Auntie Mara and Uncle Ashlar -- nurtured these twenty years -- is in one of its hot phases. And with my interstellar riches I've turned Paiho into a building site, foundations and laser lines marking out the shape of the surgical unit and clinic that I hope will be finished before any more here have need of it. These things bring me back when it seems I've flown too deeply into the void. The jostlings show me my edges even as those edges shift.

But still, ancestors and erendati, there are things I would learn from you. Not about the clan or exile, now, but about this strange pairing and its consequences.

Will this child be healthy? Will I carry it to term?

How do you say both "I miss you so much it hurts" and "I'm making a life on my own"?

How do you hope without expectation?

How will he know unless I tell him?