I threw myself into work, and by doing so, I nearly forgot all the deaths I endured, all the deaths I caused, and the death LUC had spoken of. I was numb and happy, more so because the time of Odum's rousing approached. Forty rotations had flown by, and except for food and sleep, I lived in my labors.

My present labor was red clay from stream beds east of the ship. I had a cart with wheels and handles. With that, I shifted to a stream no longer flowing. Parts were swampy, overgrown with cattails, where stagnant pools drew large dragonflies. The clay was plentiful and easily shifted to my cart. I used the clay to fill in the gaps in the cabin walls; the one between the stream and the ship.

Having completed the external cabin, I returned to the ship with a full cart. On the Seed Ship, I had many cabins. There was also the longhouse and barn. There was quite enough to keep me busy. I loosed my grip on the handles and looked around. There was the rebuilt cabin where Imabelai would have been the Queen of my heart. Sweat dripped into my eyes, but a smile lingered at the corners of my mouth.

The GM spoke. “You should rest and wash. There is just over a turn before Odum's rousing.”

“Oh yes,” said I. “Thanks.”

I left my cart in place, shifting to my water closet. The heated water soothed, relaxing tight muscles. I did not mean to be slow, but I tarried in the wash. I tied back hair not fully dry. I was genuinely excited to rouse Odum. He would be a man. Even as I stood before his tree, I found myself recalling the look on his hairy face as he turned in his seat on Rigil's ferry. I recalled his wide eyes at the mention of my name, and I recalled the collar around his neck.

“It's time,” said the GM.

I tapped the pad that brought up the cover, noting the hiss of escaping gases. Internal registers gave a heartbeat and scrolled vital information. The numbers were down a bit. I hurried to loose the straps.

I slid an arm beneath his back to pull him free. As I embraced his torso in my struggle to bring him out, his head rolled back, and I began to worry. He had not opened his eyes. Moreover, his skin felt hot. I laid Odum on the grass and placed his arms beside him. Odum's skin was a light brown, and what hair was left, curled slightly. The hair on his head was black and tightly coiled. It amazed me that Odum looked so unfamiliar; he was tall and well-muscled.

“GM,” I asked, “what's wrong?”

“The body has a fever,” said the Great Mind. “The organs are at risk of failure.”

“What do I do?” I asked.

“Body temperature must be lowered,” said the GM.

I was alarmed. “A cold shower?” I asked.

The GM answered. “Water temperature on the Seed Ship is too warm.”

I was alarmed and afraid; terrified, actually, as I had not the first clue how to help. A 43S7 would have been helpful. I, on the contrary, was useless. I turned in a circle,  my mind blank. If water was warm on the ship, it was warmer outside. Where I kept the meat was no cooling unit, but a stasis chamber.

The GM said calmly, “Heart function has ceased.”

Beside myself, I repeated the word, “No,” as if I could will away reality. I was on my knees by Odum's head staring into his slack face.

The GM said to me, “You must restore a heartbeat.”

“Right,” I said, leaning over the body.

I had nothing at my disposal aside from ripping cables from the tree and jamming them into Odum's flesh. My father's power came to mind. I had used the power of raw lightning to destroy an entire village, but could I control it in smaller doses? I looked at my palms and felt desperation rising within. I placed both hands on Odum's chest, and at first, nothing happened.

“You must hurry,” said the GM.

“I know,” I shouted.

I rubbed my hands together; don't ask me why. Holding my breath, I returned my palms to Odum's chest and closed my eyes. I recalled how I did it before. It was anger and rage; the faces of those I burned were inside of my eyelids. Anger, rage, and fear triggered the power, and I was hoping I might use only fear. I feared Odum would die without my help, and I hoped I would not fry him.

I was waiting for something to happen. No power came forth.

“He is running out of time,” announced the GM in a calm voice.

I lifted my hands and glared at them in anger; I screamed at clenched fists. What good is power if you can't call on it when needed? I slammed my fists against Odum's chest and saw a hopeful spark. I hit Odum's chest a second time. The power surged. Odum heaved.

“Anything?” I asked the GM.

“No,” said the GM. “Try again.”

I sent power into Odum's flesh; his body heaved.

“Again,” said the GM.

I yelled my desperation as I touched Odum's chest one more time. The power that went out from me was greater. Odum's body jumped higher from the ground, but in my mind was a dark worry. What if I hurt him rather than helped?

“I have a heartbeat,” said the GM.

My own heart was beating raggedly as if I had run a great distance. I sat back and laughed. I had done it. I saved Odum; I had not lost him. I wiped tears from my face.

“He's alive,” said the GM, “but the fever persists.”

“What went wrong?” I asked.

The GM answered, “I am running a diagnostic.”

Suddenly, I shouted, “Ava! Is Ava alright?”

The GM answered, “Ava is in no danger.”

I looked down at Odum. I touched his skin and felt a heat that worried me. I asked, “How do I cool Odum?”

The GM said, “You will need something that absorbs the excess heat.”

“The clay,” I said with sudden clarity.

I touched Odum and shifted to the cart before Imabelai's cabin. With Odum on the grass beside the cart, I quickly freed handfuls of red clay and pressed them against Odum's chest. I had to work fast.

The GM reported, “There is no fault in the tree.”

“Then what?” I asked.

The GM answered, “It is possible that the body rejects atomic progression. You must eliminate the fever before I can say more.”

My concern burned like Odum's fever. I shifted portions of clay directly to Odum's body. I had his chest and neck covered and was placing clay on his lower body. Thoughts flew in my mind like startled birds. I would need to leave breathing holes when I covered his face. Would I need to cover the top of his head? I would have to turn him over and apply clay to his back. Did I have enough clay?

I called the GM. “Can you shut down the overhead lights?”

The lights went out, and the GM said, “Done.”

The lights were warm; I thought they might affect the clay. Clay was a natural cooling substance, but if it was warmed from both the fever and the overheads, the clay would be useless. I turned Odum's head to one side, adjusted the breathing holes, and shifted him onto his stomach. I placed clay on the top and back of his head; I covered his ears and began working down his back. I had used more than half of the clay. I was running out.

“No,” I said. “I'm running out of clay.”

The GM said, “You will need much more.”

I said in repressed anger, “Your help is no help at all.”

I touched the cart and shifted to my clay quarry. I arrived on my knees. As I moved to stand, I slid across the surface and fell to my back. I shifted to my feet with an angry grunt and filled the cart with a single shift.

Back on the Seed Ship, I shifted clay to Odum's back side and turned him to apply more to his front. When I had the soles of his feet covered, I took a moment to kneel and inspect my work. I did not have so much on Odum's chest that he could not breathe. I watched his chest rise and fall, the clay coming apart in places.

I looked at the clay on my hands, and shifted to a seated position on the cabin porch, leaving the clay behind. Having to catch my breath told me how hard I had worked and worried.

I asked the GM, “How long do I have before the clay has to be replaced?”

The GM answered, “One turn is a cautious estimate.”

I had to steady myself for another round of clay appropriation, another bout of maddened clay shifting. How long would it go on?

I asked the GM, “Can you gauge his temperature through the clay?”

“No,” said the GM. “There is a meter in the blood bank. Remove it and use it to measure his breathing temperature.”

I returned quickly with the meter and stooped to place the meter over the breathing holes.

“No change,” said the GM.

I asked, “Will this even work?”

“Hold the meter to the clay,” said the Great Mind. I complied and the GM said, “The clay is rising toward body temperature.”

I stood and threw the meter in anger. It rebounded from the porch and fell to the ground. I did not like to swear, but I didn't know what else to do. With a yell, I said, “Damn my impotence!”

Then, I heard my father's voice. “Take Odum to the clay and bury him in the shade.”

I shifted Odum to the clay and looked around for shade. I saw a broad shaded area by a pool. I quickly moved to the area and wasted no time creating a pit several hands deep. I shifted Odum inside.

Father's voice came to me again. “Fill in the sides between his arms, raise his head, and cover his lower body. Put a thin layer on his chest and abdomen. Shift cool water atop his torso.”

I did all of that. “Can we save him?” I asked.

Father said, “Take a breath, son. Do as I say and Odum will live.”

I felt my body relax. Muscles relaxed in the back of my neck and behind my eyes. I exhaled as I sank to my knees; and with father in charge, I became limp with relief.

Father said, “Shift out the warm water and replace it with cool.”

I did so. Then, I heard a noise among the trees and high grass. Reflexively, I reached for my guns. They were not with me; I had left them on the ship. I drew my stasis pen from my upper arm.

Father said, “A lion approaches.”

I stood in a crouch and readied myself to defend Odum. The rustling drew close enough for me to smell wet fur. I faced the direction the sounds came from and held the pen in front of me.

Father said to me, “I can send the beast away. Concern yourself with Odum. Replace your pen and change the water.”

From the reeds, I heard a strangled sound of fear. The animal turned and bolted. I put away the stasis pen and replaced the warm water with cool. I found myself trying again to relax from physical tension, pressing my eyes and holding my breath.

Father said, “We've got this, son.”

We worked into the evening, periodically changing the water. It became tedious, but each time father told me to change the water, I was quick to do so. Odum was the last Kee male. Like myself, each of us was the end of our line, but Odum was more than the last of his kind, he was also the first. He was Huim, and with Ava, he would sire a people. It was for that reason that I gladly endured the labor; that, and Odum was my friend.

I sat in the clay by Odum and looked at the red clay on his face. I listened to his rhythmic breathing and watched his chest rise and fall. Father's presence brought peace to my troubled spirit. His words gave me hope.

“Do you know why I chose you over LUC?” asked my father.

“It's a mystery,” said I. “LUC would have been the logical choice. He had the skills of a King.”

Father laughed, and the sound warmed me. He said, “But you were a devoted son. Your desire was toward your father. Your love for me always brought you back, and I can't think of a time when I was not proud of you.”

I continued shifting water, cooling Odum while basking in the light of father's revelation. It was what I always wanted; to be close to him, to be assured of his approval. I wanted to respond, but I was overwhelmed; on the verge of joyful tears.

“It's time,” said father.

I shifted Odum from the clay and into my lap, although the red stain of clay remained on his skin. I watched his chest rise and fall. I watched his eyes move beneath the lids.

Father said, “The fever is gone.”

I had been comforted into the evening by the real presence of my father. It was not just his words in my mind that anchored me; I could feel him with me. The sense of him was lost in a moment; he was gone, and my isolation was buoyed only by the presence of Odum. I shifted to the Seed Ship for safety. I sat with Odum in the shallows below the falls. I held his head above water and rinsed his hair and face. It troubled me that he still slept, but I was determined to see my friend through.

I said to his sleeping face, “Awake. You are a man now. There is a whole new life for you.”

I could see the clay clinging to his chest, and I saw the falls as the solution to two problems. If I held him beneath the falling water, the clay would rinse away. I also thought the cool uneven pressure of falling water might jog him from slumber.

I swam toward the falls, paddling with one hand and pulling Odum behind me. The falls covered us as I navigated a sitting position and pulled him up. He was against my side as the gentle falls fell across our heads. The water, at first cool, soon warmed, and I sat patiently waiting. Still, he slept, and my spirit groaned within me.

I shifted Odum into the grass near his tree. I laid him there and stood, then shifted beside myself, my dampness falling to the grass. I felt better dry, except for my tangled hair. As I stood quietly beside Odum, the sounds of wild animals came from the enclosures. It was dark mode; the change in temperature was evident.

Suddenly, the ship's sprinkler system activated, and a fine mist wet me.

I quickly shifted to my quarters and returned with a towel and a pair of work pants. The mist was gone but was set to run once per turn. While I waited, I dried Odum and struggled to get him into the pants. I thought if I continued to wait, we would get wet again, so I shifted to Imabelai's cabin and laid him on the porch.

My patience was strained. With a deep breath, I sat on the top step and put my back to the support. I had no idea how long I would have to wait; I simply wanted to be there when Odum awoke. The silence I had so often enjoyed, suddenly seemed harsh. The solitude I had become accustomed to suddenly chafed.

I had lived a life apart for many revolutions; now, I was lonely. I wanted someone to talk to. I needed company and pined for another voice. As my angels were busy, there was no way to guess when they might return, so I pinned my hope on Odum. I watched his chest rise and fall in the darkness. I looked at his slack face trying to see the Kee I used to know.

I spoke to him in a hush. “Please hurry, my friend. I need to know you're alright.”

It was at that moment that Odum sat bolt upright and shouted. “Aah! Aah!” he yelled.

Startled, I leaped to my feet, but I miscalculated the bottom step. I tumbled to the ground. As I rolled to my feet, Odum yelled twice more, but not as loud. I well remembered what rousing felt like. The shock of consciousness was brutal. But, Odum was awake; he sat on the porch staring at me. I ran to him, and laughing for sheer joy. I took his shoulders in my hands and looked into his eyes. He held his hands before his face and stared hard.

“Odum,” I hailed, my voice on wings. “It's me. Jeez.”