Forbidden Planet

by Rinelle Grey

  “But I don’t have one?” It didn’t make sense to feel left out simply because he hadn’t known of the need to have a special candle, but he did anyway.

  Marlee frowned for a moment then her face brightened. She handed him the red candle and returned to the cupboard. This time she brought out a small pillar candle. The wick was black, but it was still nearly as large as the red one. “I used this one for Brenda’s youngest daughter’s birth, two years ago. She birthed quickly, so there’s still plenty of life left in it.”

  Tyris held out the red candle to swap, but Marlee shook her head. “You keep it. I’ll use this one.”

  Tyris warmed at her kind gesture. She could very easily have kept the best candle, she’d probably worked hard to make it, but she gave it to him without thought, wanting to make sure he didn’t feel uncomfortable.

  He owed her so much. He’d never make it up to her, though he certainly planned to try.

  Marlee collected her knitting, and they walked across to the hall. Tyris smiled as villagers flooded in from all directions. How wonderful for Jenka to have so much support. He’d never given the process much thought, but if movies and television were anything to go by, he suspected that on Urslat only the couple involved and perhaps a parent were even aware of the event.

  The villagers may not have many children, but those who were born were loved right from the start, not just by their immediate families, but by all those around them. A sliver of loneliness touched his heart. Had he ever felt loved? His parents had always been busy. He and Kerit knew they cared, in an abstract sort of way, but not like this. He couldn’t imagine even his extended family looking forward to his birth the way the entire community looked forward to this child’s.

  Inside the hall a flurry of activity greeted them. On a table in one corner, candles already stood burning. Women arranged food on another table in the middle of the room. Tyris added the cake and bread they brought to the apple pie, cakes, and biscuits already there. Yasmyn and Janey cut vegetables and dried meat into cubes and added them to a large pot over the fire. Tyris’s mouth watered at the thought of the soup that would be ready later.

  He and Marlee crossed to the table with the candles. Marlee lit her candle by holding it against the largest central one and placed it with the others. He copied her as she explained, “The central candle is made especially for births. Someone from Jenka’s family lit it when her contractions first started.”

  Small customs, but ones that tied a community together.

  Tyris placed his candle solemnly next to Marlee’s. One day, the village would be gathered lighting candles for Marlee’s baby. He strongly believed it, could see it clearly in his mind. And in that picture, he wasn’t here lighting a candle. He sat beside her, holding her hand and encouraging her. The image both disconcerted him and sent a tingle down his spine at the same time.

  He reached for Marlee’s hand and bumped into hers as she reached for him. He smiled down at her, a little misty eyed.

  “Come on,” she said, “let’s go sit down. It could be a long wait.”

  They sat by the fire on a pile of cushions. Marlee, Jaimma, and several other young women knitted, discussing patterns and stitches. It was incomprehensible to Tyris. He leaned on one elbow, chatting with Nerris, consciously aware of his legs resting gently against Marlee’s. It was comfortable, easy, relaxing. He may even have fallen asleep for a while, not that he would admit it.

  He dragged himself up when Marlee suggested they get something to eat. As he filled his wooden bowl with soup and a generous chunk of bread, something moved just outside one of the windows.

  He frowned. He dipped his bread into his soup and ate it as he walked over to the window to peer out.

  Drifts of white snow glittered in the light from the window. Tyris glanced around. What had he seen?

  He looked down. Jenka’s partner, Rejan, sat just below the windowsill, with his back against the wall. His head hung in a dejected slump. Marlee came up to Tyris’s elbow and silently looked down with him, her face a picture of worry.

  “Rejan? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with Jenka?” She kept her voice low. Tyris looked around, but no one in the hall seemed to notice the conversation.

  Rejan didn’t look up. “He sent me away.” Sadness and hopelessness filled his words.

  Tyris didn’t even need to ask who sent him away. He could clearly remember Jenka’s father’s opinion of Rejan. The expression on Marlee’s face urged him to do something. Tyris dunked his bread into the soup one last time, swallowed it, and handed the bowl to Marlee. “Give me a minute,” he said, and he ducked out of the doors, into the snow.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” he said to Rejan.

  The young man hesitated, but he plainly had nothing better to do. He heaved himself up, and followed Tyris through the gently falling snow. The paths in the village formed a ring as they lead from one house to the next, and Tyris paced around it, needing the movement to keep warm.

  “How’s Jenka going?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Rejan’s said. “She seems to be struggling and crying a lot. Is that normal for having a baby?”

  Tyris didn’t know. “Does her mother seem worried?”

  Rejan tipped his head to one side for a moment then shook his head. “Not worried exactly. But she’s strained.”

  “I’m sure that’s normal,” Tyris reassured him. “Jenka will be fine.” He winced inwardly. He shouldn’t be giving such assurances when he knew nothing about any of this.

  “I just want to be there with her!” Rejan’s voice rose. He stuck out his bottom lip and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “Then go,” Tyris said.

  “I can’t.” Rejan changed from impassioned to desolate in a second.

  “Because of Jenka’s father?”

  Rejan nodded.

  Why was he the one out here trying to help this boy? He barely knew him, and he certainly didn’t know enough about the family situation to comment. But perhaps that was why it would be better coming from him. Everyone else accepted the way that Belac treated Rejan. They were used to it. Seeing it from the outside, it seemed unacceptable.

  “What can he do to stop you?” Tyris asked.

  “He told me to get out.” Rejan said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “Right, but what do you think he would’ve done if you’d said no?”

  “I couldn’t do that! He’s bigger than me. And older. I can’t say no.” A small amount of uncertainty crept into his voice.

  “There’s always going to be someone bigger and older than you. Are you going to let them stop you from doing what you want? Are you waiting for the day when you’re bigger and older? Because I can tell you, by then, you’re too old for half the things you want to do.”

  Rejan stared at him, his mouth hanging open.

  Tyris hid a smile. “Being bigger and older doesn’t give someone the right to bully you. Yes, sometimes people with more experience have something valuable to offer, and it’s worth listening to and considering their advice. Other times, it’s obvious their concerns are about their own issues, not yours. Then you need to do what’s right for you and those you love.”

  Hmm, that was good advice. Perhaps he should be listening to it himself.

  Rejan wavered. “But I don’t want to upset Jenka by arguing with her father.”

  Was it concern for Jenka, or an excuse born out of fear? A bit of both probably. “Do you think her father’s concerned about upsetting her? Does he have her best interests at heart? Which do you think will upset her more, you standing up to her father for both of you, or you being absent from the birth of your child?”

  “But...” Rejan trailed off, out of excuses.

  Tyris threw in one last comment, just for good measure. “Rejan, you’re about to become a father. You’re going to have responsibility for a helpless little infant who will look up to you for everything in life. How can you help your baby if you can’t e
ven stand up to its grandfather?”

  Rejan drew in a deep breath and squared his shoulders, adding a few inches to his height. “I’m going to do it.”

  “Good,” Tyris said.

  They had come full circle in the path around the village and now neared Jenka’s parent’s house. Rejan took off at a run then paused and turned around. “Thank you.”

  Tyris just waved him on.

  Rejan burst through the door, not bothering to knock.

  Tyris lingered in the shadows. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he wanted to see that this ended well. He’d encouraged Rejan to act uncharacteristically. If things went badly, he should be there to help.

  “What are you doing back here?” Belac’s voice boomed loud enough for Tyris to hear it clearly. “I thought I told you to stay out?”

  He strained to hear Rejan’s reply. “I’m here to see Jenka.” His words sounded determined, even if his volume wasn’t.

  “What do you think you can offer my daughter, a little wimp like you?” Tyris winced at the words, expecting the door to open and Rejan to come flying back out.

  “I gave her a baby, didn’t I? How many men here have managed to do that in the last decade? Would you rather she went through a string of partners with the chance that she’d never be a mother?”

  Tyris grinned. Apparently Rejan had more backbone than he thought.

  There was a stunned silence. Tyris began to think Rejan had won, when Belac spoke up again. “A baby’s nothing but a liability when you have a house that’s falling down, and you struggle to keep your path cleared of snow each day. How do you think you’re going to support a family?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Rejan said. His voice grew stronger each time he spoke. His shout almost matched Belac’s this time. “We were doing just fine. Just because Jenka wanted to be near her mother for the birth, doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with our house. As soon as our baby is born, we’re going home! Now get out of my way, I’m going to see her.”

  “Over my dead body! This is my house, and you’re not welcome here. Get out!”

  Tyris held his breath.

  He heard a door bang against a wall and peered around the corner. Had Rejan fled the house?

  The front door was still firmly closed.

  “What is going on out here? This is supposed to be a birthing space, not a war zone. Jenka needs peace and calm to be able to focus on her baby.” Tyris recognised Talla, Jenka’s mother, as much by her tone as her voice.

  “He’s not good enough for her,” Belac said, but the angry tone had drained from his voice.

  “What you think about the matter is irrelevant.” Talla scolded. “Jenka chose him, and they’re having a baby together. He’s here to stay, so get used to it.”

  “Why should I?” Belac’s tone was surly. “They can be together all they like, but this is my house, and what I say goes.”

  “It’s my house too. I worked to build it just as much as you did. If you can’t keep the peace, then get out. And stay out until the baby’s here!”

  Tyris hid a smile and ducked behind the corner as the front door opened, and Belac exited, muttering to himself. He hung back in the shadows.

  “Come in Rejan, Jenka’s been asking for you.” Talla said calmly.

  “Is she okay?” Rejan asked anxiously.

  “Of course she is, but it’s her first baby; it’s going to take a while.”

  Tyris slipped away, content that he’d succeeded. Rejan was in, Belac was out. Hopefully the young boy would approach future confrontations with his father-in-law with more confidence.

  He headed back to the hall, feeling rather pleased with himself. And hoping there was some soup left. He was hungry.

  The light from the hall and the sight of Marlee standing in the window waiting for him warmed Tyris enough to realise he was freezing. Marlee’s face brightened when she saw him, and he hurried into the hall as fast as he could.

  The bowl of soup she held out warmed his hands as he took it. He dipped some bread and swallowed it hungrily.

  “Belac arrived a few moments ago, looking furious. Is everything okay?” Marlee asked.

  Tyris chuckled. “Rejan stood up to him. Told him that he’d been good to Jenka and given her a child, and he intended to be part of her life. And when Belac kept arguing, her mother came out and told him to get out.”

  Marlee shared his amusement. “It’s about time he stood up to him. Did you find out how Jenka’s doing?”

  “I’m not sure. Her mother said she was doing well, but that it would take a while.”

  Marlee nodded. She didn’t seem worried. “Do you want a game of chess while we wait?” she suggested.

  The next several hours passed pleasantly. They played chess, ate, and sat by the fire chatting with the other villagers. When it began to get dark outside, someone lit the oil lamps hanging on the wall, bathing the room in a warm glow.

  An amorphous feeling he couldn’t quite name swirled in Tyris’s brain. It hit him like a sledgehammer. Contentment. He felt completely at home and content. There was nowhere else he’d rather be right now. And considering he was miles from home on a backward hick planet with no technology except for his broken spaceship, that said something.

  He slipped his arm around Marlee’s shoulders as she chatted to Jaimma about knitting, and she looked up at him with a smile, pausing mid-sentence. And that felt right too. The connection he felt to her amazed him, as though she said something to him without words.

  Beren pulled out his harmonica, and Jaimma put down her knitting and went to sit beside him, adding her light, clear voice to his tune. Marlee’s fingers flew over her needles, and the tiny circle of knitting became recognisable as a little hat. A few last stitches and it was finished. She held it up for him to admire.

  Tyris took it from her, turning it over in his hands. The wool felt so soft, far softer than the jumper she’d nearly finished knitting for him at home. And so tiny. “Will it fit?” he asked doubtfully.

  “Well, it might be a bit big at first, but he or she will soon grow into it.”

  “A bit big!” He couldn’t believe that a human, even a baby one, could be so tiny.

  Marlee giggled. She took the hat and stretched it wide with her fingers, so he could see the circumference clearly. “It looks plenty big enough for something that has to come out of a woman’s body,” she teased.

  Tyris blanched. “Right. When you put it that way...”

  The door to the hall opened, snow blowing in after Jenka’s sister. Everyone’s head turned in her direction.

  “How’s she doing?” Nerris asked, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

  Petra came in and filled a bowl with soup. Was she deliberately keeping them waiting? She wolfed it down, and Tyris decided she was probably just hungry. With her mouth still half full of food, she said, “Jenka’s holding up well, but it looks like it’s going to be a long night, Karla doesn’t expect the baby to be here until the early hours of the morning.”

  Disappointed sighs and murmurs echoed around the room.

  “How long does it take to have a baby?” Tyris asked quietly, suddenly conscious of his own ignorance.

  “Anywhere from an hour to a couple of days. Nature is remarkably imprecise when it comes to these things,” Marlee said.

  “Well kids, no point in everyone having a sleepless night,” Nerris said. “Looks like we’ll have to wait until tomorrow for news.”

  The hall’s occupants began packing up the food and shuffling off to their own houses. A day that began with an air of excitement and anticipation threatened to end without resolution.

  Marlee helped clear the food from tables and collected up her knitting supplies. Nearly everyone else had already gone. Belac sulked near the fire. A couple of Jenka’s friends sat on cushions with their backs to the wall, and at least five of the council members, including Yasmyn, lingered.

  “Not everyone is going home,” Tyris pointed out.
/>   Marlee nodded. “Some people will wait it out, mostly family members and friends.”

  “Can we stay?” Tyris asked.

  “You really want to?” Marlee tilted her head to one side, her voice uncertain.

  Tyris shrugged. He shouldn’t care, he barely knew Jenka, but after talking to Rejan, he’d be disappointed to miss the end of this saga. “I kind of feel involved now. It doesn’t seem right to leave.”

  Marlee smiled. “I’d love to stay too.”

  A different atmosphere settled over the hall now. Quieter and less excited. Yasmyn brought some thin mattresses out of a cupboard and handed them out. There weren’t enough for everyone, but no one minded sharing. Tyris curled up next to Marlee and watched her create more stitches on her needles.

  People talked quietly for a while, no one wanting to sleep in case they missed something. But eventually, one by one, people nodded off. Marlee yawned, and put down her knitting, and Yasmyn extinguished all but one of the lanterns.

  *****

  The door crashed open, jerking Tyris awake. He shook his head and stared around the room blankly. Where was he?

  Rejan stood alone in the doorway, holding up a lantern. His jubilant face said it all. “I’m a father!”

  His announcement woke the rest of the room. A small cheer went up, and within moments, a crowd gathered around him asking questions.

  Rejan answered as best he could. Jenka and her baby daughter were safe and well and resting comfortably. He’d wanted to bring the baby to show everyone, but Talla said the cold would not be good for her. But they hoped everyone would come and visit them in the morning. Then he hurried home to his new family.

  Marlee and Tyris walked home in the silence of the early morning.

  The snow had stopped now, and the air was clear. An unbelievable number of stars stretched across the sky. A sight he’d never seen from the ground before.

  Beside him, Marlee was silent. Her head down, she didn’t see the wonder of the stars. Maybe they weren’t wondrous to her, but Tyris suspected it was something. She’d been quiet when Rejan arrived, and though she’d congratulated him with a genuine smile, she’d barely spoken since then.