by George Mann
Maybe it was better for them to live without her than to die with her.
She hated being a grown-up. Life had been so much simpler before she’d turned sixteen.
“Tell me that you want to live.”
The Angels cast stricken looks at each other and wrung their spidery fingers into complex knots. Bee took her by the elbow and explained, “We have to do everything that you tell us, but your mother owns us, and she wants us dead, so—”
“Oh!” Minya’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, everyone. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
Bee whispered in her ear, “But we do want to live.”
Minya tried to smile at that, but it felt more like a grimace on her cheeks. “I have an idea.”
The Angels parted, all fixing her with identical black-eyed looks of despair.
It wasn’t fair. They were supposed to be happy. They’d been created to be happy. And she envied them for it. No, she loved them for it. With all her heart.
Once she was on the elevator, she burst into fresh tears.
Then she went to see the bishop to discuss him taking her Angels away.
The tiny circular church was packed with worshippers, all clutching hands and wailing a tone prayer to The Turtle. “... aaaaaOOOOOO eheheheheheheh EEEEeeeeEEEEeeee OoOoOoOoO...” Minya wasn’t exactly sure why they thought a Turtle would be into ululations, but now was hardly the time to get into a theological argument with the man she was about to beg for help.
“... wah wah wah wah wah aaaaaaEEEEEE!” The bishop levitated in the center of the ring of worshippers, riding the concentrated sound waves, floating nearly all the way up to the domed shell of a ceiling. When the prayer ended, he crashed down to the padded altar with a blissful smile on his face.
Minya cleared her throat, and the perfect acoustics transmitted it with bruising strength to the center of the circle. The bishop waved the acoustical amplifiers off, rubbed his jaw, and told his flock, “We have with us the daughter of the woman who condemned to death dozens of souls for the crime of being property.”
She shrank under the glares of the angry worshippers. It looked like they were all about to take a collective breath. “Don’t hymn me! I’m here to help. What can you do to save them?”
“You need to help us buy them,” Bishop ibn-Magdalene said. “Have your father arrange to sell them to us as salvage, and we’ll bring them away to a preserve.”
“My father can’t sell them to you. They belong to Mas. You’re going to need to steal them away. Either that, or find some sort of loophole in Mas’s corporate laws and use it before she gets the chance to change it out from under you.”
The bishop nodded at his flock, who scattered. “They’re off to find those loopholes. We’ll save the Angels yet.”
“I’m only sending them to the preserve if I can’t find a way to keep them here.”
“I understand.”
“I’d rather have them owned and happy than aimless and free.”
“Clearly, we disagree on that point.”
“But at least I’ll be able to visit them at the preserve.”
“Ah, well, no.”
Minya shook her head, trying to dislodge whatever had fallen into her ears. There was no way he’d said what she’d just heard. “What was that?”
“The location of the preserve is secret. It’s the only way we can keep them safe.”
“Yes, but since I’ll be helping you get them to it—”
The bishop’s face fell into a frown. “I’m so sorry, my child. Let us pray to The Great Turtle together so that you may find peace with this.”
Minya waved the acoustical amplifiers back on, screamed, “Fuck you and the Turtle you rode in on!” and grinned with satisfaction as the bishop was bowled back onto his ass.
She’d just have to find her own solution.
She fought her way through three tour groups to get back to her office, where her mother’s face had already taken over the window. “So, have you suddenly gotten an attack of religion, or are you actually thinking about helping that ridiculous man’s crusade?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I’ll bet he talked your ear off about his secret so-called ‘Mods preserve.’ I know exactly where it is. You’d hate it. It’s just a rusty old space station with four rings. They flooded one ring for the Mermaids, over-pressurized another for the Devils, irradiated another for the Dragons, and stopped one spinning for the Angels. They won’t even let the Angels go outside because they’re afraid they’ll run away to look for work. It’s cruelty, that’s what it is. If you really love them, you won’t let them live that way.”
“And if you really love me—”
“Oh, I don’t. That’s your father’s job.”
Her mother’s face vanished.
Well, that made certain things clearer.
Minya buried her head in her arms and wished for some sort of miracle, like her mother dying in her sleep and leaving the entire company to Minya instead of Astrid4. Or maybe the shareholders would have a sudden change of heart and force Mas to keep the Angels in service. Or the bots would be hijacked by pirates and sold for scrap before they arrived at the Emerald. Or the Angels would escape on their own and take her with them to some magical space station around a mythical planet where food and Mods vats appeared regularly out of thin air and...
IN HER DREAMS, Angels cavorted through her underwater apartment, flying hither and yon despite the low ceilings and high gravity. “How are you doing that?”
Bee smiled at her. “You saved us! Thank you so much!”
“I did? How?”
The ceiling suddenly telescoped up, up, up into a massive, starry dome, and the Angels multiplied to fill the space as they wheeled overhead. “Don’t you remember?” Bee asked. They cradled Minya in their arms and took off for the very highest part of the dome.
And then something poked her from below.
Minya craned her neck to see what was—
A penis?
“Ew!”
“I love it! I’ve named it ‘Kennett’ after your Pas!”
“EW!”
“Want me to put it in you?”
Minya woke up at her desk.
Ew.
Bee with a penis.
How inelegant, how... how unaesthetic. Minya had nothing against penises, per se. She was sure she’d eventually be interested in having one in her. Statistically speaking, most women did. But Angels were beyond that! They were better than that! No one could pressure them to have babies. No one! What a wonderful, beautiful way to live.
Gendered Angels?
How utterly wrong.
How utterly...
Hmm.
Minya called up the genetic mix from the last batch of Angels. They were still being made with a human XO chromosomal base, so slapping a penis on any of them would be a purely cosmetic procedure, one that her mother would clearly see right through, which was a relief.
But still...
She tweaked the settings to see what would happen if an Angel were made with an XX or an XY base.
The computer spat an error at her.
A computer error? She’d never seen one of those before.
That meant she was onto something.
She went back to the now-empty church and found the bishop snoozing on the padded altar. “I have an idea, and I need your help.”
Bishop ibn-Magdalene straightened his turtle shell yarmulke and blinked. “You’ve found a way to sell us the salvage rights?”
“Forget about salvage rights. I’ve found a way to give the Angels full human rights.”
“No, that’s not possible. You yourself said—”
“My mother can’t spy on us here, can she?”
The bishop shook his head. “No, not even corporate law can breach the walls of church and state.” He slapped one hand against the floor. “It’s miracle-tight.”
“Go
od. We need to make Angel babies.”
“Angel... babies?” He was barely able to put the two words next to each other. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“If we mix the next batch to be XX and XY instead of XO—”
“The next batch? That will take months. I thought you said we had days?”
“That’s to make an adult. Babies would be faster. Although, you’re right, they’re not fast enough either.” Minya nibbled on one of her thumbnails. “I suppose we could impregnate someone with blastocysts by the deadline.”
“Impregnate someone? Can’t you just grow them in your cloning vats?”
“Cloning vats can be powered off. A uterus can’t. More importantly, my mother owns the cloning vats, and it’s illegal for her to own any uterus other than her own.”
“You’re right, you’re right. But even if you could find a volunteer to do such a distasteful thing—” He shuddered. “Oh, I can’t imagine asking someone to put themselves through that. But even if you did, that wouldn’t save the rest of the Angels. It’s not like we can turn them into reproductive beings. Science isn’t magic, you know.”
“No, I would never change them. They’re perfect as they are.” Minya bit a sliver of thumbnail clean off and chewed on it thoughtfully. “If one of the Angels provided the X chromosome for the babies—”
“That would save just one.”
“Except this batch is genetically identical, so there’d be no way to tell which one.”
“And therefore your mother would be forced to declare them all to be the father. Brilliant!” The bishop’s face fell. “But there’s still that pesky problem of finding a volunteer.”
“You find me someone who can hack their way around the cloning restrictions to make me some blastocysts, and I’ll take care of that volunteer.” She gave the bishop the passcode to the Angel’s cloning lab, then went to the nearest medi-chute and bought a sampling rod. She took it to the Angels’ hab, handed it to the closest Angel, and said, “Have everyone use this. I need a tiny piece of each of you.” She closed her eyes and waited until she felt it pressed back into her hand.
She opened her eyes to see Bee hovering in front of her. “Please don’t tell me what this is for,” they said. “I don’t want to have to tell your mother.”
“I won’t. I love you.” She kissed them lightly on the cheek and brought the sample back to the church.
The bishop was waiting there with one of his parishioners. “This is Dr. bint-Tanya2. She’s agreed to help.”
Dr. bint-Tanya2’s mouth was set into a grimace of distaste. “I can’t say I like what you’re proposing,” she said. “But if it’s the only way—”
“It is.”
“Have you thought out what will happen to the Angels once they have full rights?”
“No.”
“Do you have jobs lined up for them? Shelter?”
“I haven’t planned that far ahead.”
“Do you even have a volunteer lined up to carry the fetuses?”
“Yes. Me.”
The words shocked her the moment they came out of her mouth.
The bishop retched into his hand and excused himself so he could throw up someplace more sanitary.
She was going to carry them herself?
Dr. bint-Tanya2 took Minya to one of the pews and sat her down. “You’ll need to live in zero-g throughout the pregnancy.”
“I thought as much.”
“Living in zero-g isn’t very good for your body, you know.”
“I know.”
“I’ll need to inflate your uterus so it won’t crush the fetuses. And they’ll need to be born very early so they don’t run out of space inside of you and start breaking bones.”
“That makes perfect sense.”
“Have you thought this through? Really?”
“No, not really. But it’s the only way, isn’t it?”
The doctor nodded. “Yes, it is.”
Minya handed her the sampling rod. “Take the X from here.”
By the end of the day, her uterus had been inflated until it was at its full-term size, and two blastocysts were rooted to its walls, one male, one female. She packed some clothes and a sleep taco into a bag, then took it to the Angels’ hab. “I’ll be living here until your children are born.”
The Angels crowded around her, each taking turns brushing their spidery fingers across her belly.
“We’re all the father, aren’t we?” Bee asked.
Minya nodded. “And if you’re fathers, then you deserve rights.”
That got the Angels abuzz.
If this didn’t work...
Minya suddenly couldn’t breathe. Oh dear Turtle, what had she done? Pregnant? With another species? In the hopes that two fetuses would save sixty Angels? She’d created a new species just to save sixty Angels? And she was going to have to give birth to them (C-section, so her vagina wouldn’t crush them to death), then give birth to some more, then give birth to some more, and more, and more if they were to ever hope to be a viable species. And what would they do once they had rights? They needed food, space stockings, shelter. They’d be at the mercy of her mother and all the other planetary CEOs. What was she thinking? This would never work! She didn’t even want to be pregnant! By the Turtle, she was turning into her mother! Her mother!
The Angels snuggled in tightly around her and made shushing sounds.
“How could you tell?” Minya whispered.
“We know you well enough by now,” Bee said.
And somehow, they made everything all right again. It was a huge risk she was taking, but it was worth it. For them.
She had no idea what she’d do without them if she failed.
They were still snuggled around her when her father stormed in. “Pregnant? With Angels?”
The Angels parted just enough to let Minya see her father’s nova-red face. “I’m saving them, Pas.”
He stuttered and blustered and waved his arms, tossing himself all over the hab in the process. “Did you even once think to consult with me first? How do you think your mother is going to take this? She’ll evict you all! That’s what she’ll do. Who do you think will take you in? You’ll be homeless! A homeless, unwed, teenaged mother with a harem of sexless fathers and... and... and they’re not even really my grandchildren!” He dissolved into tears.
The Angels floated him over to Minya and snuggled up around the two of them. “It’ll be all right, Pas. I swear.” Minya buried her face in his long, fluffy beard and held him as he sobbed onto her shoulder. It was a strange reversal—something she’d have to get used to in her new role as a mother.
Mother.
She was going to be a mother.
Well, not really. The babies had none of her DNA in them. She was just the incubator. But still, someone would have to raise them. Hopefully the rest of the Angels would have great mothering instincts, because Minya certainly didn’t. Never mind the fact that she would never be able to hold them without hurting them.
Just like her mother, she’d have to leave the job of loving the children to their fathers.
This both relieved and saddened her.
Her mother’s voice cut through the room. “And just what in the seven hells is going on here?”
“Go away, Mas,” Minya snapped. “Can somebody put a blanket over her face?”
She felt the Angels part, and looked up to see her mother floating there in the flesh, surrounded by her three youngest children, and sporting an obvious pregnancy bump. “If anyone puts a blanket over my face, they’re losing a wing.”
Minya cradled her arms around her own swollen belly and said, “Well, Mas, you said you wanted me to get pregnant.”
“Children, cover your eyes,” Mas said, and ushered Minya’s half-sibs into one of the side rooms and closed the door behind them. She turned the full force of her disapproving glare on Minya and said, “Angel babies. Well, if that isn’t the most distasteful thing I’ve ever heard of. Did you re
ally think this would work?”
Minya lifted her chin. “Actually, yes, I did.”
Her father gave her shoulders a little squeeze. “Go get her, tiger,” he whispered.
“Keep out of this, Kennett.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Minya saw Pas glare at Mas, but then he dutifully let go of Minya’s shoulders and floated back to join the Angels.
The women weightlessly circled each other. “I own them,” Mas said. “And so, by definition, I own what’s growing in your belly.”
“The babies are gendered, Mas. You can’t own an intelligent being that can reproduce. The shareholders will throw a fit.”
“They’re already throwing a fit. They want this stopped. It’s bad for business.”
“It’s bad for business to have one of your planets be the home of the only other intelligent species that we know of? Really?”
“I should have seen this coming and gotten rid of them when you were a child.”
“But you didn’t, and now they’re all fathers, and you can’t kill them.”
“Of course I can terminate them. They’re my property.”
“And what happens if the board rules it to be genocide?”
Mas laughed. “Oh, listen to you. Genocide? Really. We’re talking a few dozen Angels who can only reproduce in the lab. You silly, stupid girl. Come on, Angels. Let’s get this over with.”
The Angels didn’t move.
Mas’s expression grew dark. “I own you, and I command you to come with me so I can put you out of my misery.”
They pulled in tight around Minya, bringing Pas with them, who shot a triumphant smile at his wife. “It seems they realize they already have rights.”