Schism

     The first landmark, a rock formation that resembled a stinger's tail, provided a resting place for the troupe. Five days travel, across the gritty barrens, when she had thought two would do. Marta recalculated her initial estimates and, with a wry grimace, wondered again whether the haven could have been planned closer to the settlements. Lying in the shadow of a thorny scrub, she shook her canteen, knowing before doing so, that there wasn't enough water to take an extra sip.

     Umeko glided closer, moving slowly and easily from one bit of shade to the next. Her desert sense had saved them more than once. The sharp black-brown eyes missed nothing in the glaring sun, including the sunburn on Marta's shoulders. The slender biologist hunkered down beside the resting woman, and looked away, following the other's gaze toward a small dot on the horizon - a copse of Eternity trees that marked an oasis - a splash of deep green in all the tan-brown emptiness.

     "Our next landmark?" she asked. Marta nodded, too thirsty to waste words. "You're not wearing your shirt while traveling." A touch of a finger on the reddish skin caused a hiss of discomfort.

     "Too hot."

     "Do it anyway. Verda doesn't have the UV that Sol did, but we can still get sun-poisoned."

     Marta nodded. "Go rest. We have to get moving soon."

     To the leader's annoyance, Umeko settled her rump and stretched out her legs. "That's what I need to talk to you about."

     "What?" She'd get no nap until Umeko had her say.

     "We shouldn't travel mid-day. Morning and evening would be better."

     At least this expert got straight to the point. Oneida would still be prefacing her suggestion as a point of order, as if she were destined to have equal say. None of the other Alphas had caught on yet to the power hierarchy being established day-by-brutal-day. The longer they followed her the more deeply imprinted the habit would become among the Betas and the more difficult to displace her.

     "Stingers," Marta replied. The venomous arachnids hibernated during the endless hot afternoon.

     Umeko shrugged. "Yes. But they can be avoided. We should follow that example." She pulled out her flask and offered Marta, who refused, a sip. "Or we will all die when we fail to find water." She stowed the flask on her belt and, using her long-bladed knife, dug in the hard soil at the base of the thorn bush. "I'm stealing your pillow for supper." The potato-like root was heavy with stored water. She brushed off the dirt, and peeled back the thick nasty-tasting skin. After wiping her blade on her shirtsleeve, she sliced off a hefty chunk and offered it.

     The juices coated Marta's teeth with a starchy paste, but her tongue welcomed the liquid. The second slice was received with mumbled thanks.

     Umeko dug out a few more tubers, and started back toward the others - a group of supine figures in the shadow of Stinger Tower.

     "Mek?" Marta murmured, on the edge of sleep. "Tell them we'll wait. Move on this evening." What was the use of having experts if one ignored their council?

     Reaching the stand of Eternity trees took almost that long in Marta's reckoning. The troop rested in the shade and used the cool mud to ease the sunburns, insect bites, and scrapes acquired in the ten days of hard travel. The artesian pool, which had been filled with clear mineral-rich water a year ago, was a muddy puddle. The women strained the slurry through their clothes and saved the tan colored and strong-tasting water in their small canteens.

     No one could drink more than a gulp or two without suffering diarrhea from the minerals in the filtrate. At least that kept anyone from using all her supply at once, Marta thought. She considered taking another sip but, rubbing the grit from her teeth with her tongue, decided she wasn't that thirsty. She pointed out the snake-like ridge in the distance and, with a collective sigh, the women shouldered the packs and moved on.

     Ronni called it quasi-heather and the name stuck. The knee-high gray-green plant filled the lowlands ahead, choking out all other vegetation but sheltering a variety of the small lizard species that had filled this world's niches like rodents had on Earth. When the wind blew, almost a constant, the fluffy heads bobbed and quivered, looking like waves on a tranquil ocean. Pacifica Plain was the name Marta wrote on the rough map in her journal. Free flowing water was still non-existent, but sucking the stems of 'Crazy-heather' could get bitter pine-flavored moisture.

     The next landmark rose phallus-like from the knees of a lone mountain. A running gag rippled through the ranks based on Tara's comment about her willingness to travel any distance if she could find a lover so well endowed. From the joke came a name - Cock Walk Rock. A narrow river, winding at the base, tumbled merrily in a deep ravine but no easy descent was discovered and the abundant water remained out of reach. Another name provided with no intense thought - Frustration Creek.

     Kirsten had argued for building a home in the caves of the lone mountain. Many, including Marta privately, thought the honeycomb would be a good place to establish an enclave.

     Marta pointed across the plateau. In the distance haze a thin gray line of mountains stood. "There we stop."

     "And if we choose to stay - without you?" Kirsten's cadre cheered her words.

     Marta took a mental note of those faces and then played a trump card, raising the ante so high that no one dared call her bluff. "I planned this escape for many months. I stockpiled provisions and techware. Someday, if we prosper, someone can colonize here with my blessing and support."

     She met Kirsten's ice-blue stare with her stone-gray one and said nothing further. Let the Nordic snow-princess hear the both the threat and bribe. The blonde's austere expression softened and the challenge passed as she grudgingly nodded agreement.

     "I hope I don't regret this."

     Oneida and Carmacita exchanged a secret smile - of conspiracy or of admiration, Marta didn't know or care. As each Alpha challenged, they would be met by a bribe or a threat - whatever it took.

     Later, Marta drew a sketch of the peak, the river, and Cock Walk Rock. Regrets Mountain - they all would have many and this seemed like a good place to leave them behind.

     The escarpment had, for the longest time, persisted as a jagged dark haze on the horizon. Finally, even with the snail's pace of walking, the highlands had grown and gained dimension. Dry creek beds had given way to a series of muddy puddles. Yesterday, Ki had discovered a fresh water spring and, for the first time since leaving Central, everyone had had enough to drink. Lizard and birds, tubers and pods were plentiful in the relatively moist micro-ecology of the narrow arroyo.

     The bounty inspired a festive mood and an impromptu party had ensued. Marta - like the others - had gotten drunk on the combination of renewed hope, sated stomachs and clean water.

     "No deaths," she had muttered to Debra, as they lay on a warm boulder and watched the moons chase across the night sky, sipping water. No deaths, and only two stinger amputations despite moving in the twilight and early morning hours of the long Verdant day. Deb had held up her canteen as a silent toast to the sentiment and they each took a hearty gulp. "Dark here."

     "I don't remember so many stars, back home," the burly brunette observed, wistfully. The gentle voice always surprised Marta, belying the rugged, muscular, physique of its owner.

     "Why haven't we named the constellations, yet?" a voice from the ground asked. Brenna, probably, Marta guessed. The girl was either very lucky or unlucky, depending on how one looked at the series of scrapes and near mishaps she had stumbled through with only minor bruises.

     "Come up," Deb said, reaching over the edge. "Stingers in the skree, none up here." The tall, lithe redhead accepted the offer, clambered up - all elbows and knees - and curled up on one corner.

     "Pick one and name it." Marta said, brushing her hand across the patch of heaven above them.

     "Greek mythology?" the girl said, craning her long neck for a better look.

     "Oh, let's not start that. All the goddesses were either bitches or witches," Deb said, laughing. Bitches or witches. Marta wondered in which category her followers would belong.

     "Bitches or witches? Which bitch or which witch am I?" Brenna giggled. Marta felt her skin get goose-fleshed. It hadn't been the first time the girl had vocalized the exact same thing she had been thinking. Fey was not a reliable ally.

     "You? Witch. Me? Bitch," Marta said, rubbing down the bumps and ignoring Deb's looked askance for her twitchiness.

     "That's a dolphin and there is a snake." The three of them continued to point out familiar shapes.

     "Slow down. I'll never remember all these," Marta protested. In truth she had already forgotten a few.

     "I will." Deb shrugged. "Eidetic memory."

     Marta stored that interesting tidbit, reckoning such a trait would be very handy and unobtrusive.

     "Is there water on the escarpment?" Brenna asked, and then pointed out a cluster of bright tiny stars. "A school of minnows."

     "Yes, but I never noticed any minnows."

     A double-dozen evenings later, before stars began puncturing the indigo sky, the troop reached the house-sized rubble at the foot of the escarpment. Marta led them up a narrow path hidden from above by an overhang and through a natural tunnel to the other side of the cliff face. A broad niche opened before them and, as one, the women stood looking out over the valley within.

     A flock of goats grazed in the still-green grass. A small fire burned in the mouth of one of the numerous caves dotting the inner rim of the escarpment.

     "Deuce!" Marta called. Several of her followers startled as the echo cajoled, 'Do-do-do!'

     "Deuce Martan, are you here?" she shouted again.

     A slim figure ducked beneath the cave's low opening and waved. "Marta! You brought more!" The voice was singsong and childlike in its earnest delight.

     The other Alphas, Oneida, Carmacita, Kirsten, and Justine, looked from Marta to Deuce and back again. The accusation screamed in the shocked silence.

     "Forbidden by the Articles of Colonization," one of them whispered. In the growing gloom, Marta couldn't be certain whom.

     "Yes." The dark-haired leader watched the others as the awkward youngster ambled closer. "Not the first rule I've broken - nor the last."

     "Our future generations?" the always-pragmatic Carmacita asked. The surprise waned quickly from the eyes of her rivals and, after a moment, curiosity replaced any lingering shock. Marta nodded and, as Deuce welcomed each of the newcomers with a hug, smiled tightly at the clone.