Identity Crisis

by Sarah Ettritch

  “I forgot to ask whether her hair and eye colour will make sense.”

  “I’m sure Laura and the admiral checked that before they spoke to you about their plan.” Jayne quietly sighed, then stopped and aimed the flashlight in Lesley’s direction. “What’s the real issue?”

  Lesley blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

  “You keep coming up with reasons for why we can’t take the child.” Jayne raised her free hand. “I know you have concerns and doubts. I’m not saying I don’t. But you usually take the time to think things through.”

  “We don’t have time.”

  No, that wasn’t it. Lesley should be silently walking next to her, trying to figure out the ideal solution that would please all sides—not raising every possible detail that could go wrong, no matter how improbable. “What’s really bothering you? What are you worried about?”

  Lesley took her time answering. “There are so many ways the plan can fall apart. Someone will talk.”

  Jayne shook her head. “No. Interior will silence anyone who says a word about it. The person would have no proof. They’d be painted as a delusional liar and executed. You know that, and so will they.” Time to take another tack. She wished she could be gentler, but Lesley was right about time running out. “Why are we going to talk to your parents? Are you hoping they’ll say no, so you can say no without feeling guilty?” Lesley’s jaw tightened, but Jayne kept going. “Maybe we shouldn’t take her, because I don’t want her to feel the way I felt. Like someone’s duty, an obligation, a trial to endure until she turns old enough that we can find her an apartment, wash our hands of her, and tell ourselves she should be grateful that we’d cared for her.” She paused to draw a breath, then softened her voice. “If we take her, we’ll have to treat her as our own, to the point that if anyone ever found out, they’d be flabbergasted, because we love her and treat her as we do all our daughters.”

  Lesley grimaced. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “What?”

  She hesitated. “Love her.”

  Jayne blinked back tears of relief. The fear compelling her to push Lesley—the fear that she’d misjudged her Chosen, that her Chosen was cold-hearted and would turn her back on the baby...love eclipsed it. Because she deeply loved Lesley, and the woman she loved wouldn’t turn over the child to those who’d harm her. Lesley was afraid! “Why don’t you think you can love her? Is it because you won’t see her as Rymellan?”

  “No. I see what Laura is saying. If she was older...but she’s not.”

  “Then why?”

  Lesley’s forehead creased. “She won’t be my biological child, but she’ll have my name.”

  “This won’t happen, but if Mo and I had a child, the same would apply.”

  “That would be different. I know you’ll love our child, but that’s because she’s our,” Lesley made an embracing motion, “child. You love us, and you’ve been there right from the beginning. The same would be true for me if you and Mo had a child.”

  “All right, I agree that it’s different, but that doesn’t mean we can’t love this other baby. We’re the only parents she’ll know, and we’ll only have missed the first few days of her life.”

  “Our children...they’ll be strong in the Way.”

  “We’ll bring her up to be strong in the Way.”

  “But she doesn’t have Rymellan ancestry. What if we love her, and then she grows up and,” Lesley’s voice dropped, “ends up at an execution site? I don’t know if I can take that risk, to raise her and take care of her and potentially watch her ignore everything we’ve taught her.”

  Jayne pressed her hand to her chest. “If we take her, we’ll all be taking that risk. You won’t be doing it alone. All we can do is raise her as best we can. There are never any guarantees. I know that.” When Lesley gently pulled Jayne’s hand away from her chest and kissed it, Jayne fought a fresh set of tears.

  “I know you do.”

  Jayne squeezed Lesley’s hand and held onto it. “Have you seen the baby?”

  “No.”

  So they’d all sat in a room discussing the child’s fate while she lay in the infirmary a short walk away, and none of them had bothered to go see her? Pragmatism displaced Jayne’s dismay. She could understand why they couldn’t allow emotion to cloud their judgment—if that was the reason behind it. Maybe some of them suspected that once they’d laid eyes on her, they could no longer contemplate handing her back to the Danlions.

  Lesley was studying her. “If you think I would have fallen in love with her on sight, I doubt that would have happened.”

  No, but it would have driven home the point that they were discussing a baby—a real, live, helpless baby. Something Lesley’s parents could easily ignore. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to talk to your parents?”

  “I don’t want to lie to them.”

  “Then why make them have to lie to everyone else? Not that they’ll agree with the plan. You know they’ll say no.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Yes, you do.” Jayne braced herself. “Are you sure you’re not asking them to put the responsibility of deciding onto them?”

  Lesley shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Jayne gave her a point for honesty. “If we take her, she’ll have the best chance if they don’t know.”

  Lesley’s face darkened. “Why? What do you think they’ll do?”

  “Nothing intentional. But the fewer people who know, the more everyone will treat her the same. If your parents don’t know, they won’t treat her any differently. They won’t have to worry about slipping up. They won’t have to lie to everyone.” She quickly reconsidered her words. “Not that we’ll have to keep lying to everyone. We’ll have to lie about her birth, but after that, she will be our daughter. She will be their granddaughter, or niece.”

  “Or sister.” Lesley said pointedly. “They’ll think they’re twins.”

  “Even more reason to keep it to the three of us. Do we really want the situation where your parents are favouring one over the other? Children notice things like that.” And so would others. “Unless we’re going to let your parents decide for us, telling them could be a huge mistake. If they’re opposed to the plan, going ahead with it will cause a rift. They might refuse to see any of their granddaughters because they don’t want to see...that one. On the other hand, if they agree to it, we’ll be asking them to keep this secret for the rest of their lives. This is our decision, yours, mine, and Mo’s. I think it would be better if we didn’t bring them into it.” She didn’t backtrack when Lesley let go of her hand and looked past her. Let her think it over.

  The minutes stretched out. Jayne wanted to check her comm unit, but she didn’t want to rush Lesley. Fortunately it was a warm night, or standing here would make her shiver.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Lesley finally said. “I hate the thought of lying to everyone, so why make them do it? Your other point is valid, too. Once we’ve told them, there would be consequences if we were to ignore their wishes. Let’s go back to Mo.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Lesley looked exhausted. Jayne reached for her and pulled her close. “They’re asking a lot from us.” She closed her eyes when Lesley’s arms tightened around her.

  “They don’t have much choice, not if they want to save the baby.” Lesley’s breath tickled Jayne’s ear. “So you think I’ll be able to love her.”

  Jayne brushed Lesley’s cheek with her lips. “I know you’ll be able to love her.” Because you love me.

  *****

  Lesley yawned into her hand and swung open the door to Jensen’s reception area.

  “You can go right in,” the receptionist said.

  “Thank you.” She knocked on Jensen’s closed office door, then opened it at the muffled invitation. When two bleary-eyed faces peered at her, Lesley wondered if Laura and Jensen had managed to snatch any sleep.

  “S
o?” Jensen said.

  Lesley remained standing. “None of us are opposed to the idea, but I’d like to hear what the Chosen Heads have to say about the baby’s potential strength in the Way. My Chosens will trust me to make a decision after that.” Mo was torn. Similar to Lesley, her doubts were giving her pause, but her fear that the alternative would haunt her for the rest of her life had won out. “Have you spoken to anyone else about the plan?”

  “We’ve been very busy,” Laura said. “Hall is thinking about it. Fisher supports the plan. We’re going to tell Stevens and Ellis in the meeting.”

  “They’ll initially oppose the idea.” Jensen wearily shrugged. “But I think we’ll be able to talk them around.”

  “We’ve also arranged everything at the infirmary and put a plan into place to transport the child.”

  “We received the signed agreements from you and your Chosens,” Jensen said. “You made the right decision about not telling your parents.”

  Lesley wanted to smile. “Jayne talked me out of it.”

  “I see.” Jensen cleared her throat.

  “What’s the next step?”

  “I’m going home to get some sleep,” Jensen said.

  “I’ll do the same.” Laura jutted her chin toward Lesley. “You go about your business. Work on your cases. It’s a normal day.”

  “Understood.” Lesley nodded to Jensen and turned to leave.

  “I’ll walk out with you,” Laura said. She didn’t speak again until they’d left Jensen’s reception area. Then she said, “Why don’t you walk with me to the train station?”

  “Do you want me to fly you home?”

  “No. You’re already in late. Let’s not invite questions.”

  “Will Hall go along with it?” Lesley asked, when they were strolling down the path that led to the station.

  Laura’s lips compressed into a thin line. “We’re all choosing between an unpalatable option and an uncomfortable one. Some of us are more uncomfortable than others, but none of us wants to see the child murdered.” She turned to Lesley. “I know Jensen and I put you into a terrible position, but there’s no other alternative. We need a Rymellan family in your situation to take her. Since you already knew, you were the obvious choice.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Don’t take that to mean you were convenient. If I didn’t know that the three of you were so strong in the Way, I wouldn’t have suggested it as a possibility.”

  Lesley wasn’t surprised that Laura had raised the idea. The triad wouldn’t have been Jensen’s first choice. “Did you mean it when you said you’d take her, if you could?”

  “Yes, I did,” Laura said firmly. “And I’ll help with...the twins, as much as I can, if you’ll let me.” Her voice dropped. “You won’t be the only ones having to lie to everyone.”

  “That’s true, and of course we’ll appreciate any help we can get. Having twins has come as a bit of a shock to all of us.” She chuckled along with Laura, though she wondered whether Laura wanted to help because she felt guilty about thrusting the baby on the triad, or to be super-vigilant and keep her eye on a potential threat. With Laura, Lesley could never quite tell, but she’d take any support she could get, and so would Mo and Jayne—if they took the baby. She hadn’t made a firm decision yet. “Has everyone signed the agreements?”

  “The key players have—Mo’s physician, the assistants at the Reproductive Technology Centre, anyone who’ll be involved at the infirmary...”

  Yes, if they took the child, Mo would deliver their daughter in the infirmary, not at home. That would tip off the families that the physician expected complications during the birth, further bolstering the sickly twin story. “We haven’t agreed to take her yet,” she reminded Laura, who seemed to consider it a foregone conclusion.

  “I know, but we don’t know how much time we’ll have if you do agree. Mo isn’t due for a few days, but realistically, the baby could come anytime now. Plus, if you agree to take her, we’ll want to move her to the infirmary as soon as possible.” She gave Lesley a sidelong glance. “That way it’ll be more difficult for them to change their minds.”

  Lesley knew she meant Hall and any others who had misgivings about the plan, though Lesley would include herself in that group, too. She’d be surprised if Laura and Jensen didn’t have doubts. As Laura had said, it wasn’t a matter of whether one was uncomfortable with the idea, but to what degree. “How did everyone react when they heard?”

  “We pulled them out of bed, had them sign the agreement, then told them what might happen. They understood that we weren’t asking them for their opinion. All they have to do is keep their mouths shut.”

  True. They didn’t have to bring a Danlion into their home and raise her. “You know, the ones saying that we wouldn’t like it if the Danlions refused to hand over a Rymellan who’d committed a violation had a good point. Hypothetically speaking,” she quickly added, to head off Laura’s reply that a Rymellan wouldn’t stand a chance of getting away and making it out of Rymellan space.

  “I agree, we wouldn’t like it. Fisher was right. We’d go to war over it.”

  “Why?” Lesley held up her hand. “Hear me out. Wouldn’t a Rymellan leaving our space lead to the same result as executing them? They’d no longer be Rymellan, and they wouldn’t be here to corrupt the Way or others any further. I’m not saying I’d be happy about it. I’d prefer to see them punished. But they’d be gone, and they’d never be allowed to return.”

  Laura’s face brightened, and her voice took on a new vigour. “The founders of the Way considered exile when they first drafted the Law and the Chosen Tradition. But they concluded that the risk was too high. Revenge, open wounds...better to kill the disease, than let it fester. Exiled Rymellans could form colonies, spread lies, rally others against us. Not only that, depending on who they were, they might have sensitive knowledge of our operations and technology.” She peered at Lesley. “And why inflict our failures on other cultures? We contain our problems. We clean up our messes.”

  “That’s what the Danlions want to do, I suppose,” Lesley said. “The baby is a loose end.”

  “They don’t have to kill her to contain the situation. The ruling family could raise her as its own. But no, she must be eliminated.” Laura shook her head.

  “As long as she’s alive and Danlions know who she is, she could serve as a rallying point for those loyal to her family.”

  “We didn’t kill rallying points when the advocates for the Way won the War of Social Reform.”

  At the Learning Academy, Lesley had received an overview of the last civil war Rymellans had fought. She didn’t know the details. “Perhaps I should have taken the Ancient History course when I was at the Military Academy.”

  Laura quirked a brow. “Maybe you should have, especially given your family’s heritage. I could have advised it, but I wanted you prepared for an eventual move to Interior. That didn’t leave much room for electives.” She stopped outside the station’s entrance. “I’m surprised your mama didn’t teach you anything about it.”

  “She did. But she limited herself to our family’s role in the war and its aftermath. If we weren’t directly involved in something, she left it out.”

  “Trust your mama,” Laura murmured. “Do you think she opposed you going into the military because of the losses your family suffered?”

  “I don’t think so.” Mama had told her the story about how if the one Thompson who’d survived hadn’t had children, there wouldn’t be a Thompson family, but it had happened so long ago. Plus, the Thompsons who’d fought and died hadn’t belonged to the military. Neighbour had taken up arms against neighbour, and the military, which would have roughly corresponded to today’s Defence Division because there hadn’t been an Interior until the establishment of the Way, had split. Officer had battled and killed officer. It was amazing that any Rymellans had survived. “I think she was disappointed that I wasn’t following in her and Papa’s footsteps, though I guess I sort of ended up d
oing so, after all.”

  Laura nodded. “And you do it well.” She pulled open the station’s glass door. “I’ll see you later. If any problems crop up regarding our, uh, situation, don’t hesitate to beep me and wake me up.”

  “I won’t.” She watched Laura enter the station, then turned and strode back to headquarters, looking more relaxed than she felt. The Thompsons had given so much for the Way. Now the family, her family, was being asked to perform yet another service, one that could ultimately harm the Way and sully the Thompson name.

  *****

  Lesley checked the time on her comm station, reluctantly rolled back her chair, and turned off the monitor. A couple of hours ago, she’d strolled outside and met with Mo and Jayne to make sure neither had changed their mind—not that their minds were firmly made up. It was absurd to be rushed into a decision of this magnitude, to have only mere hours to make a choice that would have lifelong consequences. They needed more time to mull over the possible outcomes, to imagine the reality of lying to their families and friends, to consider the impact on their other daughters and themselves. As it was, nobody wanted to say no, but nobody wanted to say yes—not decisively.

  Since the result of saying no would be violent, stark, and horrible, everyone was mumbling, “All right, perhaps, if we must.” Jayne seemed to be the most decided, but she’d admitted that she had doubts. Mo felt they had no choice if they wanted to live with themselves, and Lesley had accepted the responsibility of making the decision, of sitting in a stuffy room and pronouncing whether a Danlion infant would live or die. If she knew for certain that the Danlions wouldn’t kill the child, it would be a no, and Mo, especially, would agree with her. Should they bring the child into a family that wasn’t sure it wanted her? Would a swift death be more compassionate? Should Lesley hope that those at the meeting ultimately rejected the plan, or would that be cowardly?