Chapter Text
Your name is Jade English, and you have always thought the Earth was so beautiful. The deep, swallowing blue of the seas, reflecting the sun into a brilliant glittering shine, the million subtle shades of green and brown that make up its living surface, the soft white of the clouds that dance slowly across its skies. The glitter of its cities at night. Even the hurricanes that swirl across the tropics are strikingly, dizzyingly beautiful. Every time you think to look out at it, it seems to you that it must surely be the most lovely and precious thing in the universe.
You wish you could go there.
But you can't.
So, instead, you look out the fenestrated viewport at a vast, dusty, gray, cratered plain, above which shine endless endless stars set into the infinite vacuum of space. On some nights, when the Earth hangs bright and full in the sky above you like a weightless jewel, you feel like it's so near you could reach out and touch it.
You have no illusions about who you are, or what you are. The Empress is very clear about this.
Pilgrims brought you to the Moon Sanctuary as a baby, for tribute. You fell out of the sky, apparently, which gives you a mythical significance that the pilgrims thought the Empress would like. And just like the food and clothes and jewels and technical marvels and other treasures brought to her from across the universe, the Empress accepted you, and since then you've wandered as you like through the sealed halls of the buildings that riddle the surface and interior of Earth's moon.
Most of the time, you think the Empress forgets you're here. When she does remember you, it's because you're directly in front of her, watching her cook or use computers, or do other things you want to learn how to do. You've learned lots of what you know by watching her, but not everything. You have visitors that teach you, too.
There's the pilgrims, of course, who come from all over the universe to see the Empress. They don't stay long, but you listen to their interesting alien languages and look at the colors and shapes of their interesting alien clothes. Some of them look back at you, curious, but you are only rarely able to communicate with them. They're not here for you, anyway.
Then there's the other gods, who also come to visit. They're more fun, and stay longer, and talk with you more often.
You're visited by the god with the huge horns who plays games with you and teaches you to fight and defend yourself and shout real loud. He's really cool!
And then there's the goddess with the red glasses who teaches you to skate. She's even cooler, if that's possible!
And there's the soft-spoken god who sometimes brings you animal-shaped robots, and shows you how they're put together. He's really nice too, you think, but there was that one time he got into a giant argument with the Empress and they nearly brought down half the Moon Sanctuary. You could hear the explosions and collapses from your room.
There's also a goddess who smiles a lot and talks really loudly about feelings and teaches you sign language and brings you pictures of cute animals. You wish she'd bring you a real animal but the Empress forbids it.
There's a goddess who glows like a star, with dark curly stripes on her arms. She always makes time for you when she visits, and asks you if you're feeling okay, and gives you cool things when you ask, like telescopes and computers. She's nice even though she's serious a lot.
Of course there's the goddess in yellow who brings you books. All sorts of books! You love the books. She's always smiling at you but sometimes you get a feeling it's not a real smile.
There's the god who wears a helmet, and he visits a lot and stays a long time, it feels like. The Empress says he's “annoyin” but never kicks him out. He doesn't talk to you much, but sometimes he gives you advice. Even when you don't want it.
And there's the really serious god in red who also brings you books and tries to teach you things about... you really don't understand. Problem machines? The books are okay but they're also super serious and kind of boring so you mostly skim them.
But the goddess in red is a lot of fun. She teaches you cuss words in every language. The day you turn five sweeps, she gives you a cigarette, and you know you shouldn't make smoke inside the Moon Sancturary but you feel really cool posing with it unlit.
Then there's the weird god who dresses like a skeleton. He usually doesn't talk to you, not even in sign, but you mostly remember him because of the time the Empress told him about how she got you. “I wanted to name her fishbait,” she had said over slices of freshly-baked stargazy pie. “But that's not a reel human name I guess? The stupid priest guy looked so glubbin shocked. It was hilarious. They told me they'd already named her Jade for her eye color and I thought that was kinda dumb. So I said, 'Squid you give her a last name?' And they said they didn't. They seemed to expect me to give her mine, but come on fuck that! So for the halibut I chose the language they were speaking. Engfish. I mean, English.”
The skeleton-god had laughed so hard that the stitches on his mouth ripped. Tears ran down his cheeks from either mirth or pain, you couldn't tell. “Shaddup, Kurloz,” the Empress had sneered at him. “It's not that fucking funny, pull yourshellf together!”
You knew that story already. She still calls you “fishbait” all the time.
There's one more god, the one who smells really strong kind of like perfume, but he only visited once. He acted all sad and kept trying to talk to the Empress while she ignored him. After a while she kicked him out. You spent all the rest of that day in your room, in the dark, feeling nothing, and you weren't sure why.
So, you don't really have a family, not like in the books and movies and games from Earth, but you know a lot of gods and you think maybe they're like... aunts and uncles? That's a nice thought.
The other gods never take you with them when they leave. The Empress forbids it. You think they'd be willing to break her rules, at least sometimes, but either they just don't care that much or the Empress is just that scary. You're not sure which.
You get exercise, roller-skating down long, long hallways under the surface of the Moon with your robotic animal companions. You read. You tinker with machines. You wave to the pilgrims. You gaze at the Earth with your telescope. You're mostly ignored by your patron. After all, what could you possibly offer her? She has everything already.
You grow up.
You tell yourself you are happy.
One day, some sweeps later, you see a meteor. There's no warning. It literally comes out of nowhere. And that shouldn't happen – all celestial bodies move in predictable ways.
It's headed towards the Earth.
The whole moon complex is equipped with gravity manipulatorices, to throw off-track any incoming meteorites that might damage its infrastructure. Earth doesn't have those.
You whip out your tablet, and with a few clicks, you're in the system. It wouldn't be the first time. The manipulatorices mounted outside instantly hum to life, and the meteor turns only moments before crashing into the planet's atmosphere. It orbits the Earth once, twice, incredibly fast, taking out satellites you really hope are not critical, spiraling outward and then... falls towards the Moon.
It's okay! It's going to be fine. You peer through your telescope, chart out the trajectory, and the meteor's projected crash site is well out of the way of the buildings and power lines that criss-cross the Moon's surface. You breathe a sigh of relief and close your tablet.
How in the hell did a meteor appear out of nowhere like that? Maybe it's not really a meteor? But surely, if aliens or something were going to attack the planet, the gods would have stopped it? After all, Earth is their home.
Well, not including the Empress.
You suit up and board Rover to head out across the dusty plain. You haven't been out there in
sweeps
. There's not that much to do, even having the robots to play with, and not many interesting things to see. Just craters.
You settle into the command saddle and plug in your coordinates. The low gravity outside the Sanctuary always makes Rover's strides extra-big, so you strap in securely. Then, the giant robotic hound takes off in a gallop, leaping small craters and cracks easily. It's very quiet, out here with no atmosphere, and though the vibrations travel through your bones and rattle your jaw, you do not hear the Rover's footfalls crunch the regolith, nor the hiss of its mechanical joints. You reach up and flip on your music, and the crooning voice of The Artist Formerly Known as Prince fills your helmet. You hum along to
When Doves Cry
between the jostling impacts of the Rover's bounds.
Then, you find the meteor.
It's not just a meteor.
It's a baby girl, somehow alive out on the lunar plain.
You remember the stories the Empress used to tell.
You keep her. And you name her Jane.