Book 1: Call Me Nanuq
Diaspora

Meep's karaoke contest idea had been just what the doctor ordered.  Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Everyone was in much better spirits these days.

With some exceptions.

Nanuq was working through Empire for the sixth time (that month) when he heard voices outside his door.

Liam was singing about something.

Or trying to—Liam couldn't carry a tune if you glued it to his hands.

“He's off-key, too,” he heard someone muttering as the hall became blissfully silent once more.  “Honestly, what does she see in that little rat…”

Nanuq, curious, stuck his head out of his bedroom.  “Technically, he's a mouse,” he told Odysseus.  “Though I've occasionally shared your sentiments.  He can be a bit hard to put up with at times.”

“Thanks for that.”  Odysseus turned and headed up the hall, towards the open window, just before shifting and flying out.

Those two have really been at odds lately, Nanuq thought.  Weird.  Liam can be annoying from time to time, but he really seems to rub Odd in particular the wrong way.

Maybe I'm missing something again…

But any further musings were lost as a small stampede left the Den.

The sickies were home.

The Camp Sicko crew had a lot to share.  And there was news.

Governments, by definition, leaked like sieves—anyone determined enough to get information from one would be able to procure it one way or another.

Even if this hadn't been the case, there was still news.

“The newest idea to come through about us,” Bastet said, dripping sarcasm, “is that we might, just possibly, be salvageable.”

This earned her a more-or-less collective snort.

“However.  The corollary to this is that we need ‘real human contact’.  As in, not each other.  Apparently we ‘drag one another down’.”

It took a moment to sink in.

Is she saying…?

“So what now?” Mishka asked.  “Do we have to go home?”

“Not as such, no.”  Bastet sighed.  “We're being split into smaller groups and sent to stay with trained host families.  Here's the kicker—we're not to have face-to-face contact with each other, except those in our own group, until the experiment is over.  Which could be a year or more.”

This kicked off a firestorm of shouting.

Nanuq couldn't even hear his own thoughts above the roar until James hollered for silence.

“…mind calming down for a second and looking at the more important side of this?  They're letting you out.  You've won.”

Nanuq blinked.

He was right.

They had indeed won.

A few days later, it was discovered, Beowulf had made up a book on ‘The Care and Keeping of Theris.  A guide for host families.  By A. Nonymous.’  Bastet had found it and read the contents aloud to the entire Pack.

Much wolf-thwacking later, everything was back to normal, but everyone's mood was improved.

Almost.

She'd been in a depressed haze for some time now.  It was easy to see.

Even as she was making breakfast for herself—Nanuq had been working on his own version of chocolate chip waffles—he could see it.

“This whole damn thing's rigged,” she said.

“I thought that was the point,” Nanuq said behind her.  James had told him as much the instant he'd seen it.

“Well, yes, Rick and James are trying to rig it for us, but it's obvious already it's as rigged against us as the Powers That Be Against Us can make it.”

Translation: Pretty damn bad.

“Would be obvious even if Rick hadn't said he and James didn't manage to mess with the groupings except to put Liam with Terry, and even then they had to put Odysseus in that group too, and you know putting Odd and Liam in close confinement is very likely to make Liam owl food, much to Amphie's and Meddma's dismay.”

Nanuq nodded again.  There was something going on between Liam, Meddma, Ody, and Amphie.  Ody kept glaring at Liam whenever he was near, particularly when Amphie was nearby…and Meddma kept giving Liam looks…

Okay, I must be missing something there…

“But look—” She handed him a copy of the list, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He'd read it already, but he looked anyway.

“—all the groups are single-gender, so that's all the couples broken up and most of the close friendships involving you boys.”

Emphasis on ‘most,’ Nanuq thought but didn't say.

The Murphys and the Brewers had volunteered to take in groups of theris.  So had George and Miguel's families.  Maybe even the Owenses.  Sure, only the Murphys and Brewers got the nod out of all those other families, but it was something.  And James had tried his hardest to affect which hosts got which theris, and he'd done a decent job for the most part.

But before he could say any of that, she kept going.  “Bastet and Lyonesse and me are all in separate groups, Thora and Amphie and Nuala and Mishka and Kami, Chip and Dale, Meep and Dale and Nilaya and Amphie, Brushy and Yo-yo—they've broken up every single close friendship among the girls.  Every single one.  And they put me in with Lilly Dale and you know that's just asking for trouble—I'm babbling, I'll shut up.”

Nanuq shrugged.  “I think I'll just be glad I'm not with your brother.”  He was with Circuit, who he got along well with, as well as Beowulf and Perry.  Not close friendships, but good enough.

That's the way guys were, really.

“Must be nice, to be able to relax about this.”

“As opposed to what?  Panic-attacking?  Some things you're better off not getting worked-up over.  Sometimes focus determines reality—this is our reality now, and all we can do is cope.”

“That can't be as easy as it sounds.”

Nanuq sighed, letting his hands work automatically.  “No, it's not.  But I've had to do it time after time in my life.  A lot of things I've gone through, you have to cope quickly or you risk getting in even bigger trouble.  Did I want to go to Leonard's three days a week and cope with the bullies—student and teacher alike—every-damn-day?  No.  But I had to.  Did I want to come here?  No.  But I had to.  Do I want to be away from you, from all this, for a year?  HELL no.  But I have to.  And that's all there is to it.”

He turned.

“And besides—”

But she was already gone.

Stupid! he cursed himself.

Neither of them spoke to each other for the rest of the morning.

Den-night was another rough time.

Bastet was stepping down as alpha—at the very least for the duration of the separation.  It was understandable.  She might lead her own cell, but asking her to lead the whole Pack while it was in diaspora was out of the question.

Each cell would have to find its own leadership.

And Nanuq was worried.

He was one of three leaders in his own group—even if Perry was only a leader due to his closeness to Bastet, he was still a leader.  So was Beowulf.

He spent most of the night awake, wondering if he could handle the responsibility.

I'll just wait and see how it works out, he finally told himself.  If no one else makes the first move, I'll do it.  We'll take it case by case.

He fell asleep just before it occurred to him that that strategy had ended up making him leader of TAPT Arizona.

In between all the craziness, the Pack had another announcement to deal with.

Lyonesse and Richard were planning to tie the knot, and then Lyonesse would take Alisa's place as Richard's secretary while the Pack was scattered to the four winds.

Needless to say, the female part of the Pack went nuts and there was much planning to do.

“I'm telling you, one email and I could have had him here today,” Nanuq sighed.

Somehow he'd been talked into being the one to walk Lyonesse down the aisle to where Richard would be waiting for her.

He wasn't sure how to take it at first, but reminded himself that one of his mother's Marine buddies had been the one to walk his mom down the aisle seven years ago, and was honored that Lyonesse would ask him to do the same for her.

Lyonesse chuckled.  “This bothers you, doesn't it?”

“A little,” he said truthfully.  “I'm just saying that even if it wasn't legal in the strictest sense…”

Reverend Lionel Harris was an old friend of Nanuq's—they'd been at CCC together, where Lionel was taking a few classes to finish his degree.  Then he'd started preaching at Heritage Free Baptist in Gilbert, and Nanuq had gone there every Sunday until they'd taken him.  Even if Reverend Harris was at best neutral on the theri issue…

Well, some part of Nanuq would have felt better knowing that they'd at least gone through the motions.

He was wearing a homemade suit jacket, which had been sent from home (Elektra had taken his measurements and emailed them to Nanuq's parents), and trying his hardest not to pace.  He was playing the father-of-the-bride role to the hilt without really meaning to.

“If it makes you feel better, we'll have a real ceremony later on,” Lyonesse said.  “We were hoping to anyway.”

Nanuq shrugged.  “It's your call, not mine.”

She grinned.  “No, you'll just end up paying for it.”

He hugged her, chuckling himself.  Then he sighed.  “It it weird that this'll be the third time in seven years I've been directly involved in a wedding?”

“What were the first two?”

“First was Mom and Dad's, when I was thirteen going on fourteen—I was a groomsman.  Second was in Mexico when my cousin Lorena married her husband at this big old Catholic church in the Yucatan—again, I was a groomsman.  I didn't drink anything at the reception, but the party-hearty atmosphere was…contagious.”

He smiled.  That had been a good day.

“And I'm making it all about me on your big day,” he realized.

“It's fine,” she said.  “I'd rather hear your stories than concentrate on my nerves.”

Nanuq shrugged.  “Suit yourself.”  He sighed.  “I guess it's good that we have something good to concentrate on before we have to scatter to the four winds.”  He paused.  “I've been trying to explain to Callisto that this is a victory, that we should be happy about this even if it means we'll be apart for a while.”

“Richard did say he was trying his hardest to tip this in our favor.”

“Or as much as Matthews and his ilk have been trying to tip it against us.”

“True.”

Nanuq stopped.  “And now I'm depressing you.”

“It's fine, really.”

He sighed, shuffling his feet.  “I'm trying.  I am.”

“I know.”

“This is just…hard.  Callisto's been distant for days, I think she can't get away from the fact that she'll be away from me, and that…” He sighed.  “Is it sad that that scares me?”

“What?  That she's devoted to you?”

“Yes!”  Nanuq paused.  “No…I mean…” He sat down heavily.  “I don't know.  I'm trying to think of this as a victory, but sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who does.  I mean…I'll get to finish my degree!  I get to go somewhere I've never seen before!  I can even enroll at the University of Utah and work toward my law degree…and yet…”

“And yet it bothers you that it bothers her so much.”

“Yes.  It bothers me that she can't seem to see the forest because she's so focused on that one tree.  This is a victory for us.  But she doesn't see it…” Nanuq flinched.  “And I'm taking away from your happy day again.”

“It's.  Fine.”  She stood up and took him by the shoulders.  “Nanuq.  TJ.  Stop apologizing for this.  You can't help the way you feel about this any more than she can.”

“But I…”

“But you're a guy, and guys always want to fix things.  But there are some things you can't fix.”

“File that under ‘stuff I already know’,” he sighed.  “But I want to help.”

“Unless you can convince DTWC to let you two go together, I don't think you can.”

He sighed.  “Damn it, Lyra,” he said, getting to his feet, “stop making sense!”

Someone had had the bright idea to take a vid of the wedding.  Not for a webcast, no—or at least not a widely-seen webcast.

There were only a few viewers—one in the dorms of the Air Force Academy not far away, another in the dorms of the local university, and a few others who couldn't be there in any other way than spirit.

Nanuq had dispelled the last of his nerves the way he usually did—lecturing.  “The white wedding dress became popular during the Victorian era, and was suggested, in an era that particularly appreciated color symbolism, to represent purity of heart and the innocence of childhood.  Later, it was mistakenly believed that the color white symbolized virginity and should be worn only by a virgin bride…”

This calmed him down enough that he wasn't nervous anymore by the time the Bridal Chorus—from Lohengrin by Richard Wagner, he idly remembered, not usually played at Jewish weddings since Wagner was supposedly an anti-Semite—was played.

Before he knew it, he was standing where he'd been told to stand at last night's rehearsal—he had declined on attending the ‘stag night’ party James had thrown—and waited.

“Who brings this woman to marry this man?” Bastet asked.

“I do,” Nanuq replied, in the ceremonial fashion, “on behalf of her friends and family.”

Lyonesse smiled at him before he handed her off to Richard.

Bastet cleared her throat.  “Friends,” she began quietly.  “We are gathered here today to witness the wedding vows of Richard Griffon Doherty and Lyra Eleanor Valerius…”

The reception was a happy blur.  He and Callisto spoke for the first time in days, saying their apologies and meaning them.

And it was enough.

But all too soon it was over, and before any of them were ready for it, the day came.