by Chance Maree
⁂
That night, after the native women had eaten and retired to hastily erected tents, Pots ached from exhaustion, yet she felt jittery, too restless to sleep. She wandered the riverbank, soothed by the dark water that rippled beneath a starlit sky.
A lone figure on the shore startled her. The man had a long snout. His head was bowed as he contemplated the rushing water. Gunner? No. “Jacob?”
“That you, Pots?”
“Well, you've been away a lot recently.”
“I'm surprised you noticed.”
“I wanted to tell you in person—not over the com—that I'm sorry I punched you.”
Jacob rubbed his nose. “You hit pretty hard.”
“My brother and I fought a lot growing up. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Spade lately.”
“Who?”
Pots brought her glow stick closer to Jacob's face. “My brother. You met him. I know you have.”
Jacob was slow to answer. Pots waited.
“Sorry, Pots. Last I heard, your brother was in timeout-room. They caught him stealing drugs from the clinic.”
“Chikoshu!” This wasn't the first time Spade had embarrassed her. He had been an addict and a thief ever since they were teenagers. “I had hoped he would change.”
Jacob kicked at the dirt. “Listen, Pots, your husband told me about Gunner's crone remark today. We were both surprised you didn't punch him out.”
“I can control myself. If I let Gunner get to me, I'd be headed to the timeout room.”
“Your husband is quite the gentleman. I'm surprised you never told me about him.”
“Victor is my ex-husband. He showed plague-like symptoms on the morning Alpha Horizon was scheduled to depart. So, I left, never thinking I’d ever see him again.”
“Do you regret not having children?”
Pots winced. Why do people always ask that question? Jacob looked so downcast and sincere that she decided to answer his question honestly. “This morning, before the native women got in the WeeVil, all these kids came out to kiss their cheeks. Those women are my age, and they're all grandmothers. They looked so very normal and wholesome...”
Jacob choked, so Pots swatted him lightly on the back. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Go on, please.”
Pots didn't want to continue, but words tripped out, luckily in condensed form. “Motherhood is poetic and magical, I admit, and every woman should have the option to bear children if they want them. For some, children give meaning to their life, but my love is science.” Pots looked upward. The multilayered array of stars made her dizzy. “I could never imagine myself with children. Not everyone is cut out to be a mother.”
Jacob leaned forward, holding his stomach as though nauseous. He sank to his haunches and then sat down. His legs dangled over the bank.
“What's wrong?”
“You would make a terrific mother.” Jacob’s voice was a whisper.
Pots sat shoulder to shoulder beside him. She leaned back to view the stars.
After rubbing his face, Jacob stretched out beside her. “Are those the same stars we saw on Earth?”
“Some are,” Pots said, pointing at a distant cluster. “That’s Orion over there. Constellations have a different shape when viewed from this angle. The stars stay the same, but our perspective has changed.”
“Indeed it has.”
“When you were a boy, did you like to look at stars?”
“When I was a boy, I lived half of each year with my mother in Kyoto. Every spring, she'd take me to view the flowering of the cherry trees. We'd sit the entire time—not saying a word—and when the viewing was over, she'd recite a haiku:
When cherry blossoms
scatter...
no regrets.
In the moonless and secret dark, Pots warmed to the sound of Jacob's voice. Tentatively at first, she explored his body with her fingertips. She felt the resonance of their pulses, still so familiar, racing towards eager and mutual heat. Through Jacob's touch, Pots regained knowledge of herself. From the heaviness of his breath, she felt his darkness, and because of it she reached out to the almond-eyed boy from Kyoto who longed to remember the beauty he had known on Earth.
CHAPTER 22
Geoff Byrd
“Oh dear, oh dear.” Dr. Byrd fluttered around Celine as the intergalactic pop star applied makeup to the native women's faces.
“What's the matter now, Doc?” Celine stepped back to admire her work.
Byrd foresaw the impossibility of turning the natives into bogeymen while their human faces were made over with Maybelline. If Byrd didn't act now, Rafiki was doomed. “The natives could be dangerous. We needn't fraternize.”
“Nonsense,” Celine took Byrd by the arm and pulled him aside. “A big name in the cosmetic industry moved in a few doors down from me. She asked me to show her products to the native women.”
“The natives don't need a cosmetic industry.” Byrd wanted to throttle her.
“This CEO has connections. She's pulling strings to have a shipment of products put on Alpha Horizon.”
“Insanity!” Byrd flapped his arms.
“Brilliant, actually. Once the migration is over, the natives are going to be the only ones left with skin flaws. What do you expect should be done with all that makeup?”
Celine sniggered as Byrd stomped away.
Pots approached and greeted the women who smiled and nodded she struggled to greet them in their language. With her hand over her ear, Pots said into her com, “Don't worry. Gunner is in a meeting. Hold on. Celine wants to see if the women have any questions.”
The women conversed with Pots and Celine. Someone was acting as a translator through Pots's com. Passersby continually stopped by the community square to greet the natives. Byrd's head drooped between his shoulders. Think, you idiot! He gave himself a slap to the forehead. I need some sort of wedge to drive between these women.
A young doe joined the group. The size of her abdomen suggested to Byrd that intimate relations among animal-headed people had resumed.
One of the elderly native woman patted the doe's hugely distended stomach and spoke native gibberish. Pots listened to her com and translated, “Ranya says your baby will be born today.”
The doe lifted her lips in that toothy smile peculiar to rudiments. “Supertastic! Mine could be the first in Ostara, or at least in Galileo...”
“Casey Wu's baby was first. Yours might be second, unless I have mine first.” Another doe with a protruding stomach moved to the front of the small crowd. Galileo is being invaded by pregnant women!
“Wu's was conceived on the ship, so she doesn’t count. Besides, where is it?” The first pregnant doe wasn't willing to give up a shot at first prize.
During the discussion, Pots had glanced sideways in a furtive manner that drew Byrd's attention. She listened to her com, but, oddly, didn't translate anything.
“I just had a serious contraction,” one of the doe women said while rubbing her lower abdomen. “The strongest one yet.”
Another of the pregnant does hurried to stand in front of the natives. “Ranya, rub my belly, too, please!”
Her request had no need for translation. The native woman nodded and smiled. She lightly stroked the doe's abdomen.
Pots's buffalo eyes were wide and she was snorting rather frequently.
That's new. Byrd scratched his head. What had Pots so alarmed? If only he could devise a way for that sort of fear to go viral….
For safety reasons, pregnant women on Earth hadn't been permitted in Byrd's biology lab. Curious, Byrd lowered his head on his long neck to look closely at the pregnant doe's stomach, and nearly touched her with his oversized beak. The baby is moving!
“Get away from me!” the women screeched. “What a zetch.”
“So sorry!” Byrd backed away. He flailed, nearly falling. The native women watched him and giggled while the doe continued yelling. Byrd fled. His heart pounded. Flashbacks invaded his
vision—memories—the ugly face of a monstrous girl in the schoolyard....
“Geoff touched my booby!”
“No! I didn't. I didn't mean to.”
A crowd of boys had surrounded him. Stripped him bare, poking and kicking him. “How do you like it, mate? Huh? Pervert.” They left Byrd cold and curled like a winter leaf.
Byrd ran to his house, gasping. He threw himself onto his cot and curled into a fetal position. People are not nice. They weren't nice on Earth, and they aren't nice on Ostara. After all his years studying human behavior, Byrd still felt hated, scorned, an outcast. Humans are a cruel race. I hate them all.
Rafiki bounded up on the cot and leaned on the pillow beside Byrd's head. The monkey touched Byrd's cheek with a tiny, human-like hand.
“There's something going on, Rafiki.” Byrd tried to sound calm—Rafiki always picked up on his moods and Byrd didn’t want the poor little chap to worry.
The fact that Pots seemed afraid for the babies intrigued him. To Rafiki, he said, soothingly, “I'm going to stick to Pots like glue, I am. She's a loner, and can appear quite hostile, but I'm certain I can get her to trust me. Then, I'll make them all afraid—all of them, every city and camp.” Byrd stroked the monkey's cheek. “Gunner will be pleased.”
CHAPTER 23
Commander Gunner Dovmont
The commander frowned a lot these days. Development in all settlements had accelerated to a breakneck pace. Violent crimes were on the rise, and jails had replaced timeout-rooms. Alpha Horizon was in orbit, preparing to disperse the third wave of immigrants. Tyr was living with the natives. And Agent Barbara Percy would soon give birth to Gunner's son.
Gunner had come close to trusting her—Barbara, that corporate spy turned sperm thief. He'd nearly told her his plan. Over months of Barbara's expanding midsection and below-zero shoulder maneuvers, Gunner realized that her passion that night had been a ruse. Once confronted, Barbara admitted to her scheme.
“Who will take over when you're dead?”
Could Barbara have forgotten Tyr? Warily, Gunner decided not to bring the boy into the discussion. “Leadership takes more than genes.”
“Then you will teach him.”
Nothing wrong with having a spare commander, I guess. But Gunner didn't want to roll over too easily. “I have not consented to being a parent.”
Barbara had laughed. “Casia and I will do the parenting. You contributed DNA, and you'll have a role in Julius's education. Accept that, or I'll simply find another way to raise a commander.”
In retrospect, Gunner had to admit that certain aspects of the woman were admirable. “Julius,” he mulled. “It's a good name.”
The next morning, an urgent com call jarred Gunner from sleep.
“Come. Your son is about to be born.”
Gunner stumbled into clothes while running from his tent to the WeeVil. He drove himself to the newly constructed hospital. After bursting through the doors and rushing down a narrow green hall, Gunner had to stop because his vision seemed blurry. Nurses' voices sounded as though they were underwater.
He spun, wondering where to go, until he saw Barbara's partner, Casia, a reptile with emerald green scales and a small pug nose. Standing outside a delivery room, Casia looked worried and disheveled. She blinked at Gunner with sleep-puffy eyes. Gunner swept past her like a tornado. Inside the room, Barbara herself was calm and unruffled. She motioned Gunner towards the bed.
Julius, it seemed, had been born early, already roaring and feisty. He lay on Barbara's stomach with the cord still connecting them. Gunner adored the glistening and squalling infant immediately.
Julius opened eyes that were blue with dark lashes. A tuft of black hair on top his head stuck straight up. The skin—the human skin covering his face—was red and as crinkled as an old man's. A human old man.
“I expected him to look reptilian.” Gunner tilted his head, looking for a hint of scales or a perhaps a transparent eyelid.
An owl-faced doctor cut the cord and backed away, wiping her hands. As a nurse began to clean up, the doctor whispered something to her and then abruptly left.
A furrowed brow marked Barbara's calm; she studied her child's cheeks, touching them with a tentative fingertip. The nurse leaned over and whispered in Barbara's ear.
“No way in hell! Leave us!” Barbara looked to Casia. “I want a different nurse.”
“What's wrong?” The Commander glared at the nurse as she rolled the surgical tray out the door.
“Here,” Barbara offered the baby to Gunner. “Bond with your son.”
Nothing in Gunner's life matched the awe he felt holding Julius. He breathed in the baby's intoxicating scent. The weight in his arms was at once airy and full of gravity. When Julius squirmed, Gunner's heart jumped to his throat. He would protect this child with his life.
Much too soon, Barbara reached for their baby. “Give Julius to me. I'll see if he's hungry.”
Gently, Gunner delivered the newborn to Barbara's bare breasts. Casia returned to the room with a different nurse in tow.
“Please leave us now, Commander.” Barbara didn't look up from her baby. “Casia and I would like to have some alone time with Julius.”
The commander found himself banished to the hall. While reluctant, his feet seemed to have carried out Barbara’s order by their own volition. Gunner was not one to take orders, nor suffer those who presumed to give them. But there was something about that woman…
What was he supposed to do now? Gunner wandered down the hall, thinking. Do all the newborns look human? A nurse directed Gunner to the viewing window of a room lined with rows of bassinets and incubators. Most of the cribs were empty, except front and center, three infants slept bundled like caterpillars with human faces.
A nurse padded by in silent-soled shoes. She understandably squealed when Gunner gripped her arm.
“Why are there so few babies?”
“Commander!” Her feline face contorted into one of those wide-eyed, unreadable expressions. “Don't blame me! I'm following Dr. Byrd's instructions as best I can.” She hurried away down the hall and bolted into a room. The door slammed behind her.
After barking orders into his com, Gunner returned to see Barbara and Casia whispering while Julius slept peacefully in Barbara's arms.
“Something's going on with the babies in this hospital. I called Dr. Reynolds. I want him to examine Julius, and I'm posting a guard outside your room.”
Barbara's lizard eyes flashed with unmistakable warning, but Gunner didn't care if he'd angered her.
“Call off the dogs, Commander. A nurse told me the situation. Julius is in no danger.”
“What situation? Why haven't I been informed that there was a situation?”
“For some mothers, the sight of their babies made the mother’s milk dry up. Many have opted to hand over their newborns to the care of native wet nurses. The strategy is working well, so you should just leave well enough alone. At least for the time being. Let women figure it out.”
“I don't believe it. What about the fathers? Isn't anyone objecting?”
Barbara adjusted her hips, moving slowly so as not to awaken Julius. “Frankly, I think it's a lovely idea. Who needs cloth diapers, sleep deprivation, breastfeeding, and all that spit?”
“Don’t tell me you’d give our son over to those…those aliens?”
Barbara looked down at the sleeping newborn. “I admit, I was a little repulsed at first. At first sight, his face made me feel like a monster. Once the doctor cut the cord, I thought those human features made him look weak. Now that I’ve nursed him, I see that Julius is strong. Inside, he's a reptile, like me.”
“You'll keep him with us, then, here in Galileo?”
With one eye on Julius, Barbara turned the other toward Gunner and flicked her tongue.
⁂
After eying reports and reviewing the increase in civilian movements in and out of the city, Gunner left headquarters and was soon pounding on Dr. Byrd'
s door. The psychologist was home; Gunner could smell him.
“You can't avoid me, Doctor.”
The latched opened. Gunner pushed his way inside and made a beeline for the hidden corner of the kitchen. He grabbed the cowering monkey by the scruff of its neck and dumped it into a bag.
“Stop! Wait! I can explain.”
Gunner paused, holding the flailing bag at arm's length—out of Byrd's reach, but well in sight.
“Go ahead, then. Explain why women all over Ostara are giving their children to the natives.”
Byrd's head drooped. “I honestly don't know.”
Gunner headed for the door.
“I've been trying to stop them!” Byrd screeched. “I'm training all the obstetrics nurses in hypnosis techniques, here and in the other cities. We're making progress!”
“You were supposed to demonize the natives. How, exactly, have you made progress?”
“Let poor Rafiki go, I beg of you! He can't breathe!”
“You're asking me to intervene in Rafiki's fate, Dr. Byrd, yet how am I to know my intervention would be good? This animal is from Earth. Its presence here is unnatural, accomplished only through your criminal action. Scientists insisted that live animals should be excluded from the exodus, and for good reason—of that I'm certain.”
“Rafiki! Don't struggle. He's using up all his oxygen.”
“Consider this,” the commander mused, one hand holding the bag with Rafiki, the other scratching his chin. “The Taoists teach that inaction is best, because we are usually so ignorant of what's going on, that we are likely to make matters worse. So can you see the conundrum?”
“Let's leave well enough alone! Rafiki is here, so let him be!”
“But Dr. Byrd, the animal is presently in a bag. Non-action lives in the moment, and therefore dictates that I leave him there.”