He looked up at her and grinned. Asha tapped him on the nose.
“Gone for green this time, huh?” she said.
Mikey blinked his green eyes. They’d been blue a couple of weeks ago.
“The doctor said I could change the colour every time I go if I want.”
“Mm, I like the green. It suits you.”
The medical technology the Intergalactic Community had brought with them to Earth was amazing. Asha had to admire the craftsmanship, the way the biomechanical eyes imitated blood vessels, perfectly matching the off-white colour of Human eyes. Only sometimes when Mikey blinked could Asha see a flicker of something else, a glimpse into the electronics inside that allowed him to see.
She remembered the fear, the heartache. Sitting in a doctor’s waiting room with Nell. The words ‘very rare’ and ‘no cure’ coming at them like bricks. Nell’s tears afterwards, her head in her hands, shoulders shaking as she sobbed. And Mikey, too little to fully understand that the darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision was only going to spread, trying to comfort his mother.
Asha ran her fingers through his unruly hair, blonde like Nell’s. His eyes were squinted with concentration, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he drew a picture of a man wearing a suit with the Union Jack design. As always with Mikey’s pictures, the Space Station featured prominently, hanging in the sky where other children might have drawn a smiling sun. He’d been obsessed with the aliens ever since their technology had fixed his vision.
The laser gun turrets mounted on the Station were just embellishments from his imagination. She hoped.
When he presented the finished picture to her, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Amazing,” she said.
“Aunty Asha?” he said. “Am I your favourite nephew?”
“You’re my only nephew,” Asha said.
“You’re my only Aunty, but you’re still my favourite.”
“Well,” Asha said. “In that case, you’re my favourite too.”
He beamed, wrapping his little arms round her neck. Asha held him close.
A year since the diagnosis. Nine months since she’d mortgaged a little piece of her soul to borrow money to pay for the eye replacement surgery. Nine months of scrimping and scraping together every penny she could to pay the money back. And just five months left.
“Will you draw with me Aunty Asha?” Mikey asked, holding out a pencil to her.
Asha smiled, taking it.
“I’m going to draw you as a frog with a witch on a broomstick chasing you but the aliens are going to shoot her with lasers,” Mikey said, bending down to start his masterpiece.
Chapter 2
CAEL SMILED AS LORD MONFORD, GUEST of the British delegation, talked, letting the English words separate in his head from the Allortasian he heard from his translator. He had a good grasp of English now, could understand it almost as well as his mother tongue, though the idioms did still fox him occasionally.
The invention of the universal translator device meant learning another language was something of a lost art. No longer did schools across the galaxy teach children to count to ten and ask for directions in Galactic Standard. People just spoke whatever their parents spoke to them, and as soon as they were old enough for the translator they were able to understand anyone in the Intergalactic Community they came across. It was normally the most challenging thing about a deployment to an un-integrated planet - learning to speak their words so you could explain to them who you were and why you were there.
Cael wasn’t a natural linguist, but he had learned to love languages. Their shapes, their sounds, their differences. He particularly loved the way languages could tell you something about a species. There was a word in Allortasian, for instance, that meant ‘the feeling of resignation in the face of impending doom’ - as near as Cael could translate into English, anyway. Randar’s people, the Karrathun, didn’t have any words for emotions until they integrated with the rest of the Intergalactic Community, having no need to say what they could see clearly in each other’s scales. Tarkken had a fondness for Earth ‘Internet Speak’, which seemed to be a variant of standard English involving a lot of acronyms and misspelled words, where emphasis could utterly change the meaning of a phrase. It communicated a sense of Humanity’s excitement and passion.
But the phrase that kept coming back to Cael again and again throughout his day was a French one, borrowed into English and used fairly globally to mean the feeling of having experienced something before.
Déjà vu.
Lord Monford was a member of the British upper class. He wasn’t a politician, just someone who had been declared ‘important’, though Cael found that there was a tendency among certain Humans to consider people important simply because their family had a lot of money. Lord Monford had ostensibly arranged this meeting for a discussion about how his network of friends and associates could ‘progress the Intergalactic Community agenda’. But as soon as he requested a walking meeting through the Station’s park, Cael knew exactly what was coming.
Which was why he paid little to no attention to what the man was saying, just let the rhythm of Monford’s voice wash over him as he waited for the trap to be sprung.
They ambled past the main viewing area, where Human visitors and members of the Station personnel alike gathered to enjoy the spectacular sight of Earth through the large windows. Cael’s companion only steered them without pause into one of the more private sections of the park - a series of paths winding between flowers and trees. As they turned a corner, passing under an elaborate archway of vines, they came across a young woman sitting on a bench reading. She turned at their approach, rising to her feet with a blush and a smile. Cael had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.
“Ah, Catherine,” Lord Monford said.
Fancy seeing you here, Cael thought, catching Randar’s eyes briefly. His bodyguard smirked, but resumed a professionally blank expression as Lord Monford turned to them.
“Allow me to introduce my daughter, Catherine,” he said, ushering the girl over.
And girl was the right word - the poor thing couldn’t have been older than eighteen. She had the sleek, moneyed look that most of the women he’d been introduced to this way had. Perfect hair and makeup, stylish clothes and graceful manners. Catherine continued to blush as she took the hand he offered her and shook it, her grip so light as to almost be absent.
“She’s been begging to accompany me on one of my excursions up here,” Monford said. “Wanted to see the spectacular view.”
If that were true, she wouldn’t have been sat in a sheltered part of the park with her nose in a book, Cael thought, but didn’t comment.
“I hope it lived up to your expectations,” Cael said, addressing her directly.
“Yes,” she said, voice soft, shy. “It was quite wonderful.”
An awkward silence fell between them. Catherine was either very nervous - not at all surprising with her father staring at her expectantly - or not much of a conversationalist. Cael didn’t want the girl to feel bad, but he let the silence stretch out just a little, letting Lord Monford shift and bluster uncomfortably.
“Perhaps you would like a tour of the station?” Cael suggested, turning to Monford. “That is if you’ve said everything you wished to regarding your connections?”
Cael narrowed his eyes just a little, letting Monford know he knew his game.
“Well, er, yes, quite,” Monford said. “Do go ahead.”
Once they’d seen Monford and his daughter back to the shuttle, Cael headed back to the security hub with Randar. There was only a small team on today, the Humans on board the Station being mostly made up of ones who had visited before without incident. But Tarkken never strayed far from the hub, and Angela had taken to working at one of the spare desks, pushing aside Tarkken’s equipment so she could use her own in a way that made the testy head of security grit his teeth and scowl. Angela knew Tarkken well en
ough now just to smile sweetly at him and carry on.
As they stepped inside, Randar headed straight to his Match, the scales on his cheeks glowing a deep purple, while Tarkken greeted Cael with a smirk.
“I hope the Lady Catherine Monford was riveting company, sir,” he said.
“The Lady Catherine Monford might have been just fine without her father watching her every move,” Cael said. “Alas, he insisted on interjecting his thoughts into what little conversation we had, so I’m entirely unable to make any sort of judgement.”
“I had him flagged on the security systems as an overbearing, pompous git,” Tarkken said. “Proceed with caution and limit exposure to no more than half an hour at a time.”
Cael grinned, but blew out a sigh as he sunk into one of the chairs scattered around the security hub.
“I’m getting a little tired of these Human aristocrats parading their daughters around me like cattle.”
Angela gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid there are a few people who still think it’s the dark ages and their daughters are assets to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. A marriage to the royal head of the Intergalactic Community delegation would be quite advantageous.”
“They could take their chances on the Match test,” Tarkken said.
Angela feigned affront. “And risk being Matched to a commoner? Imagine the scandal if dear little Catherine ended up Matched to someone like him.”
She indicated Randar, grinning as she did so. Randar gave her a questioning look.
“Is it bad to be a ‘commoner’?” He said the word like he didn’t quite understand it.
“No, my love, I’m a commoner, too. But there’s a certain level of English society that’s somehow expected to behave differently to the rest of us. You should have seen the scandal fifteen years ago when the Prince decided he was going to marry an actress. An American actress, no less.”
“Do Humans really care about that?” Cael said. She’d said it like it was something awful.
“No,” Angela said. “The vast majority of us ‘commoners’ couldn’t give a damn who princes decide to marry - as long as they publish pictures of the ceremony so we get to see the dress, of course.”
“The dress?” Tarkken said.
“The wedding dress,” Angela said. “In Western tradition, the wedding dress is a big secret, you aren’t allowed to see it before the ceremony. So everyone wants to know what it looks like.”
From the bemused look on Tarkken’s face, Cael knew his head of security would be researching this topic later, going down what Angela called an ‘internet rabbit hole’. Cael hadn’t quite worked out what the small burrowing animals Humans kept as pets had to do with the network of data called the internet. Idioms - still problematic.
Allendi found the whole thing very amusing when he called her later, but then Cael’s sister had always had a wicked streak.
“Angela says it was quite commonplace for families to use their daughters for social and economic advancement,” Cael said. “I know it’s not unheard of among the histories of the Intergalactic Community, but it’s very strange to be on the receiving end of it.”
“You didn’t take a shine to this Catherine then?” Allendi smirked at him.
“A Match with a girl like that would be a Match with her father, no one else. He couldn’t even let her finish a sentence without interrupting her.”
“Definitely not your Match, then. Between the two of you the poor thing would never be able to get a word in.”
Cael laughed. “For once, your insults are heartening, Allendi. I don’t like to entertain the idea that I’ll end up Matched to a girl like that.”
“Is it the girl or her father that you object to?”
“Both,” Cael said. “There wasn’t an ounce of fight in Catherine. She was beautiful, for sure. A perfect little doll. But I fear she’d also be perfectly dull.”
“Ah yes, the cardinal sin according to Cael - being boring.”
“Is it so terrible to desire interesting company?” Cael said.
“Just be careful what you wish for, baby brother, or you may find yourself Matched to someone altogether far too interesting.”
Cael grinned, but a melancholy feeling swept over him. “I wonder sometimes if I’ve already met her. If one day, one of these society girls that the Humans consider ‘eligible’ for me will take the test and I’ll find myself Matched with someone I’ve privately scorned, like some kind of cosmic punishment for my vanity and pride.”
Allendi gave him a soft sort of look. “It’s not vanity or pride to want a Match who challenges and inspires you. And you know well enough that that’s not how the Match test works. Besides, if you’d met your Match already, you’d know it. The Imorna recognises them. You get a sensation like roaring in your ears and you feel them in every inch of your skin without even having to speak to them. Trust me. There’s no mistaking it.”
The Imorna. The reason he needed a perfect DNA Match in the first place. It made sense that it would respond if his Match were nearby.
“Then Miss Catherine Monford is not the one,” Cael said. “We shook hands and I felt nothing.”
“Poor dear,” Allendi said. “I hope her heart isn’t broken.”
She meant it as a joke, and Cael felt certain that Catherine Monford was no more heartbroken than he was enamoured, but a pity for her stirred in him all the same.
“I felt quite sorry for her,” he said. “She was only young. Barely past eligible age.”
“It must suck to come of age when you know it means your father will start trying to auction you off to the highest bidder.”
Allendi’s attention was taken by something off screen. She grinned, waving, then held out her arms.
“Precisely,” Cael said, his smile widening as Allendi’s daughter, Sassi, toddled into view.
She’d grown some, her hair now down to her shoulders, falling in little ringlets. She had her father’s colouring, but at the very ends, her hair was starting to go green, just like Allendi’s. Cael’s heart burst with love for the little girl. At three standard years, she was starting to develop a real personality and a command of language - though she took after her father in that respect, too, not deigning to talk much.
“What do you think, Sass?” Allendi said, scooping her daughter up into her arms and planting a kiss on her forehead. “Shall we auction you off to the highest bidder?”
“I think we might struggle to give her away,” Ardan, Allendi’s Match, said from off screen.
“What did she do this time?” Allendi asked laughing.
“Called the nursery teacher a ‘stupid head’.” Ardan sat down next to Allendi, nodding in greeting to Cael.
“What were they trying to make her do?” Allendi questioned, trying to keep the mirth from her voice.
“Play with the other children, from what I can gather,” Ardan said.
“Oh, well, I’m not sure why they’re surprised they got the response they did,” Allendi said, grinning. “You just take after your daddy, don’t you kid?”
Sassi looked up at her, bright green eyes serious and judgemental.
Cael smiled as he watched his sister with her family. It wasn’t so long ago that Allendi had been desperately unhappy, but since meeting Ardan, her life had completely turned around. Ardan was quiet, serious and ten standard years older than Allendi, streaks of grey in his dark hair. Not what Cael would have considered a good Match for his sister, but it worked. Allendi’s whole being seemed to soften when she was around Ardan. She smiled in a way that went beyond just her face, every part of her radiating joy. Ardan was not as demonstrative, but in his own reserved way, Cael knew he doted on Allendi and their daughter.
As they talked about nothing much, Cael felt a real gratitude for Allendi’s happiness. The Match test had done that for her. Well, Ardan had. But Allendi would never have met him if it weren’t for the Match test. It was stories like Allendi’s that kept Cael going when dealing with
the Humans became tiring. How many lives had the Match test saved? Not just at an individual level, either. Whole communities hadn’t been devastated because wars hadn’t been started, or had been stopped in time. This was the legacy of his people - the light in the darkness of their own devastation. Whatever happened, he wouldn’t stop trying to spread that light.
And then there was Cael’s own Match - somewhere out there on an un-inducted planet. He’d been nervous and excited to take the Match test when he came of age, anxious to meet his Match and start their life together. When his test came back ‘no Match’, it wasn’t just his own disappointment he had to deal with. As the Crown Prince of Allortasia, he was the continuation of the royal family line. He needed a family, heirs. The sadness he felt at being Unmatched - that was all for the Allortasian people and how he was failing in his responsibility to them. The pangs of jealousy he felt when he watched Allendi with Ardan or Randar with Angela? That was an ugly little part of himself he didn’t like much, one born of his deep personal desire for a lover, children of his own.
After he said his goodbyes to Allendi and her family, Cael headed to his bedroom, changing into his night clothes before getting in to bed. His arm stretched out naturally, reaching for something his brain knew wasn’t there, finding only cold, empty space.
Chapter 3
ASHA WOKE TO A CRAMPING FEELING in her neck. Figuring she’d slept in a funny position, she stretched her body out, her arm bumping into something she didn’t expect to be there. She came fully alert, panic cutting through the fog of sleep, only to realise that she was still at Nell’s, on the sofa, a blanket draped over her.
After making Mikey dinner, they’d lain down on the sofa together to watch some film that he liked with talking animals on an adventure in space. Asha couldn’t remember any of it.
She could hear Nell pottering round in the kitchen, so she got up, blanket still draped around her shoulders. Nell glanced up from the text book she was reading as Asha walked in.
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