Voices of Chaos Read Online Free PDF

short to scowl up at him.
    "David, I meant what I said!" she snapped. "Ladessa broke her back last night, and I need to see Dr. Rob--nothing to do with you or last night, either,"
    she added firmly as he stared at her. ''Look, I've got to go. If you really want to talk about things, give me a couple of days, will you? I'm not ready to 22
    say it's all right, and mean it." He still looked resentful, but when she moved on, he stayed put.
    Magdalena sighed as she edged into the first side corridor and found herself trapped behind three giggling first-year girls from Jolie who were trying to converse in Simiu, and laughing at each other's French-accented attempts.
    She managed a smile for them as she edged past and lengthened stride.
    The girls giggled and she caught her name, barely recognizable in French.
    The smile slipped as she hurried on, toward the infirmary. Darn David anyway. And--poor Ladessa. She was only just picked as translator for the Arekkhi team last month, and she was so excited! But it was impossible to stay distracted and walk at this hour; after almost running into two Simiu who had stopped to argue about the last line of a verse of haiku, she quit trying.
    Besides, everyone recognized her, and half a dozen fifth-year boys wolf-whistled in unison as she went past them. She grinned happily and whistled back, leaving them laughing. Remember when you were too shy to even acknowledge things like that? That had been nearly four years ago, of course. Back when she could say "thank you" in only a handful of Earth languages.
    Back when she'd no more imagined learning to shift effortlessly from Mizari to Heeyoon, to French to the clicks and growls of Simiu to Arekkhi to Chinese, than she'd imagined there would be dance on StarBridge.
    Dance. Back on New Am, when she'd stolen odd moments from her translating duties so she could take the StarBridge tests, she'd never even thought about dancing. I gave up hope when Mother moved us into the old cult compound back on Earth, in the Mexican desert.
    Magdalena remembered nothing of her father--and little of what kind of person her mother had been before Father Saul. She could still recall every detail of the few ballet classes she took in Brownsville, Texas. But once her mother began the search for Truth, there was no time to find a new teacher, the way they'd moved around. Then no time for frivolity, and then--dance was all at once something the Devil had invented, forbidden utterly.
    23
    She took a side corridor, away from the cafeteria crowd. Hardly anyone in this hall, just two Simiu running on all fours, racing for the elevator that would take them to the lowest level. Repairs had only recently been completed on the pool after the explosion that had injured so many and killed Hing Oun.
    The first relay races in a long time were scheduled for this morning, if she recalled correctly. Of course, if the Simiu were headed for the pool, they'd be watching and not swimming; they felt the same way about water as cats did.
    The infirmary waiting area was empty at this hour except for Znaaht, a second-year Apis earning premed credits; Magdalena told the young Apis who she wanted to see. The meter-long, beelike being darted out of sight and returned almost at once, her voder translating Apis to standard Mizari:
    "A short wait only, esteemed dancer."
    "Thanks," Magdalena replied in Mizari; a momentary, slightly dizzying multiple view of her bronze-skinned, narrow, full-lipped face played across multifaceted eyes before the Apis quickly flew into the hall. Magdalena gazed at the wall, her dark, nearly black eyes fixed absently on a wallholo of a field of bright red flowers.
    Esteemed dancer--how nice. Her Family chores on New Am had been washing dishes, tending babies, and translating sermons and diaries--
    nothing physical; she'd been a very soft fifteen-year-old. It had taken hard work, long hours at the barre and on the floor, enduring pulled muscles and mornings when it hurt to