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Transcendence
by Keesa Renee DuPre

Ariana.  In the old tongue, it meant silver.  But her hair was not yet silver.  In the new tongue, it was the name of the heroic dogfighter that had ended a battle and marked a turning point in the Interstellar Wars.  But she was past forty, now; too old to seek a glorious career with the military, as so many of the young ones were doing now.  As Ausra and Tam had done. 

"Ariana?"  Raisa's voice, mellow as a French horn or a harvest moon.  But those things were gone, destroyed long ago. 

"Yes.  I'm here." 

"Come away from the window, child.  Wishing won't bring them back safe." 

"I know," Ariana said, returning to her place by Raisa.  The old woman held a piece of scrap metal in her hands, hands which were shriveled with age.  She punched holes in it with an awl, weaving designs as her ancestors had once woven designs with needle and thread.  Ariana did not admit that her wishes that day were not for her children, but for herself. 

"We arrive soon," Raisa said, as though she sensed Ariana's heavy thoughts.  Gypsies sense such things. 

"Yes," Ariana said, taking her own piece of scrap metal and trying to concentrate on patterns of stars and supernovas, on alien flora and fauna from any of the dozens of planets they had visited in her lifetime.  The chime sounded, startling her.  The door slid open, machinery humming, and Renn poked his head in. 

"We're here."  

*  *  * 

Raisa took the lead, as befitted the eldest woman aboard, when they disembarked.  This alien world smelled of cinnamon and cloves.  Ariana stared at the place where they had landed, a small city, with some technology, although not as much as she had seen before.  At least they wouldn't be worshipped as gods or slaughtered as demons here.  The inhabitants seemed to have some familiarity with space traders and star gypsies. 

Ariana spread her wares on the grass.  Metal that she had punched with designs many trips ago hung around her neck and clinked from the folds of her clothing; some to ward off evil, some to attract good luck, some to keep her husband faithful, and some to keep her children safe.  One of the natives knelt in front of her wares, touching each one in turn. 

"I am Xylia," she said, and Ariana was surprised.  Usually Renn handled the actual trading.  It was rare to find someone on the planets who spoke the Gypsy tongue. 

"Ariana," she said. 

"I have been waiting for the ship to come," she said.  Her dialogue was a bit too perfect, too flawless, to be natural; she had obviously practiced.  "I want a charm." 

"I have those," Ariana said, touching the metals.  "What kind?"  Constellations, for faithfulness.  Supernovas, for energy.  A thousand different animals and birds and flowers from a dozen different planets, each one styled into the metal in a pattern of tiny, perfect holes, each one with its own magic. 

"Wisdom, I think.  I need to understand." 

"Understand what?" Ariana asked, reaching for a scrap of metal with a bird patterned on it. 

"I don't know," Xylia confessed.  "This--life.  Where I fit."  She made a gesture with her hands.  "All of it." 

"I don't understand." 

"I don't understand, either," Xylia said.  She floundered for words a moment, looking from Ariana to the others in the little group.  "My youngest daughter was bonded two months ago," she said finally.  Bonded--their word for marriage, Ariana realized.  Empathy flooded in with understanding. 

"Yes," she said.  "Yes, I understand."  You're as lost as I am, she thought.  She scanned her blanket, searching for something she could offer.  None of her charms had helped her in the least.  She finally selected a simple pendant with a symbol of the One Planet her people had left so long ago, a heart in a broken circle. 

"It means hope," she said.  "It speaks of the planet we killed a hundred thousand years ago.  And it speaks of the fact that we are still alive now."  She handed it to Xylia, who took it and brushed reverent fingertips over it as though the design could save her.  

"Hope," she said.  "Yes.  Thank you."  She offered coins, the strange metal of the planet.  Ariana shook her head, waved them away.  The gift was for herself as much as Xylia. 

Keesa Renee DuPre's work has been rejected by such notable magazines as Realms of Fantasy, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, and Jim Baen's Universe, among many, many others.  In fact, she can claim rejections from almost every pro-rate magazine listed on Ralan's or Duotrope, as well as from the vast majority of others.  She lives in Alabama but is currently spending a year doing missions work in Peru.