Twin-Bred

by Karen A. Wyle

  “The memory is not of contemplating it for the first time.”

  “No.”

  Dr. Tanner’s chair started rocking again. “And after that?”

  “It became a — a bit of a preoccupation, for a while. When I was feeling sorry for myself, or lonelier than usual, or when my hormones were getting the best of me. I sometimes thought of it as a way to follow Levi. But one day that thought led to another, and that’s when I more or less snapped out of it.”

  “And that thought was?”

  Mara smiled a little. “I’m sure you’ve guessed it. I realized that, in light of the — the existence I’d given Levi, killing myself would be killing him as well.”

  “And that was the end of the thoughts of suicide?”

  “Not the end of them, exactly. But the end of my indulging them.”

  It was Dr. Tanner’s turn to smile. “Another form of self-indulgence you rejected.” He looked serious again. “An indulgence you couldn’t afford.” Rock, rock. “Do the thoughts still recur from time to time?”

  “I guess so. But they just sort of flit through my mind, and get whisked away again.”

  Rock, rock. “So you chose not only life, but your way of living, your approach to life, over flirtations with death. If we may call your, hmm, your relationship with Levi a fantasy —”

  Mara blinked back tears. “Yes.”

  “Then you chose the more healthful fantasy, the fantasy that helps you cope with your problems, over the fantasy of escaping them. A good job, that.”

  Mara sniffed and smiled again. “So I escape reality in an admirable way. I can live with that.”

  “Precisely.”

  Dr. Tanner opened the box of aroma sticks once more. “Our time is almost up. Let us part with a reminder that indulging yourself is not always too emotionally expensive. This time, Mara — as we say a kind of goodbye — take one.”

  Mara stood up, walked slowly over to him, bent over; gently kissed the bald spot on top of his head, and selected a stick of cottage rose.

  Councilman Kimball paused in his run-through of the week’s schedule. “By the way, Siri, before I forget — good work on our little project. Our project within the Project, so to speak. Excellent work. Now we await developments. Please make sure — but of course, you know this — that any communications from our contacts are received under maximum security conditions.”

  Siri nodded. “Do you have any other standing instructions on this subject? Before we return to your schedule?”

  Kimball stroked the leather arm rest on his chair. “Nothing you wouldn’t expect. If I’m not available, establish a time as soon as possible for next contact. Note the caller and time of call in a secure file.”

  He paused, then sat forward and held up a finger. “And report to me at once if any of our contacts gives any indication of knowing that there are others, or their identities.” He picked up a figurine of a knight in armor from his desk, turned it this way and that. “There are complexities in managing multiple agents. But we have no way of knowing in what area our best opportunity will arise. And there is the value of redundancy. If I may indulge in an appropriate analogy — in early Terran fertility treatments, it was customary to implant multiple embryos, whether or not the mother actually sought multiple births. It increased the chances of at least one successful outcome.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “And now to the rest of my schedule.”

  Chapter 5

  It was time to finish packing. Mara was not fond of packing. She sat surrounded by chaos, fighting a headache.

  She was weary of deciding what was worth taking. For respite, she turned to the things she was sure she wanted with her. She wrapped the framed holos in her favorite soft towels. Here was her five-year-old self with her parents on Change Day. Here was her class visit to the chicken farm. And here —

  She sat back, remembering.

  The tree house was remarkably stable, considering. Her parents had been skeptical, not to say nervous, about a seven-year-old undertaking such a project. Now they were saying she must have engineering ability. She supposed she did, not that she cared that much. Science was so much more exciting.

  She had been careful to face the open side away from the house. Facing the river, and up so high, she could be unobserved. No need to watch her expressions, to pretend some other activity. Although she kept a sketch pad there, in a waterproof case, and could truthfully tell her parents that she liked to draw the view. Today she was bundled up against the chill. From time to time she put down her purple pencil and blew on her hands to warm them.

  “Mara Cadell. Princess of all you survey.”

  “Make fun if you like. I love it up here.”

  “What’s that, across the river? What you’re drawing?”

  “It’s a combine harvester. For grain. I’d like to climb up on one -- they're so big and mechanical.”

  “And what was that, splashing, right under the tree?”

  “A beetle-biter. They swim just under the water, and when the water-beetles touch down — snack time.”

  “And you sit up here, watching the mayhem.”

  “Well, beetle-biters need to eat, too.”

  “Long may they lunch.”

  Mara shook herself and wrapped up the holo. Placing it in the box, she looked for something to fill the remaining space.

  The diplomas would do. They were piled in the boxes she had brought from her office. She grabbed another armful of towels. The glass was dusty. She wiped the dust away and saw the light glint on the gold lettering. “This is to certify that MARA CADELL . . .”

  “So my last name is Thomas. Not that I need one. But why?”

  “Well, when Mommy and Daddy got married, they had different last names. Naturally. And their boys were going to get his name, and their girls were going to get her name. So I’m Mara Cadell. But there wasn’t — well, your name should be Thomas. Daddy gets left out, otherwise.”

  “Sentimental Mara. All right, then. Levi Thomas it is.”

  Unpacking was easier. For one thing, it was not essential to complete it. If her belongings stayed largely in boxes, it was no one’s concern. And she was spending most of her time in her office, anyway.

  Mara jumped when the phone signaled. The long and incomprehensible budget document had put her to sleep at her desk. Rubbing her forehead to dispel her disorientation, she pushed the receive button. The friendly face on the monitor looked familiar, but she could not immediately place it.

  “Dr. Cadell? I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Laura, Laura Hanson. I’m one of the host mothers. You gave me my final interview.”

  Of course. That was one of the few interviews Mara could still recall. She remembered Laura’s obviously genuine desire to bridge the gap between human and Tofa, and her gift for putting people at ease. Even a scientist who dreaded sitting across a desk from strangers, and had somehow doomed herself to an unending series of such encounters.

  “Yes, I do remember you, and it’s very nice to hear from you. What can I do for you? Are you feeling all right? Is there anything you need?”

  Laura looked down for a moment and then back up, apparently overcoming some diffidence. “Actually, I was hoping we could get together, for lunch or just for coffee. I know you must be terribly busy, but I would so much like to hear more about how you came to conceive the LEVI Project. And I was hoping you might have some thoughts about how I could make myself useful — areas I could research, or skills I could try to acquire.”

  Mara blinked. “That’s a wonderful suggestion. Let me do a little thinking and try to come up with some ideas. And dig myself out from under a bit. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  “Now what do I do?”

  “Eat lunch, Mara mia. Drink coffee. Make a friend.”

  “She would make that easier than I usually find it. If it weren’t that her curiosity is in a rather dangerous direction. However did I come to conceive the Project? . . . And she’s so
open and direct. I don’t think this friendship of yours could get started if I were hedging and obfuscating.”

  “By all means, concede defeat before the attempt. It’s so much more efficient.”

  “And I really do have work to do.”

  “Much of which is actually worth doing, and even interesting. But not inevitably all-consuming.”

  “Maybe. Maybe I’ll give it a try.”

  Mara took a swig of her coffee and sighed happily. The dining facilities were still in the shakedown stage, with limited selection and uneven quality, but she had exerted herself to ensure that the coffee would be strong and plentiful.

  Laura sighed, less happily. “I’ll be glad when I can have coffee again. The tea they’re allowing us isn’t much of a substitute. I’m making do with hot water.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Not bad, considering. It’s hard to say whether I’ve got morning sickness as such. They’re giving us drugs to prevent it, if we ask, but we’re taking so many other concoctions that most of us end up nauseated anyway from time to time. Today I’m all right. I can smell food without, uh, difficulties.” She smiled. “Even this food. Oh — I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking . . . .”

  “Please don’t apologize. I’m well aware of our commissary limitations, and I should be the one to apologize for them. I’m working on it. In fact, you’ve given me an idea. Maybe I can get some quicker action if I say the food is aggravating the mothers’ symptoms and making it harder for them to stay nourished.”

  “I’ll be glad to provide a testimonial. . . . Speaking of ideas: have you thought of anything I should be doing in these next few months? Besides lobbying for more tempting lunch menus?”

  Mara played with her soup. “You’re already doing a fair amount. Boning up on colony history, on the early human-Tofa contacts; reading the summaries of research on increasing empathy in children; making sure you have the templates for the reports you’ll be doing. That is, I assume you’re actually doing these things. I’m not sure all the mothers are.”

  Laura laughed. “Don’t ask me. I’m not going to snitch.”

  Mara did a double-take. “Now you’ve given me an idea. Something you could do, that’d be useful beyond any reading list. It’s too soon, really, to guess what you’ll need to know as things unfold. But what we, the other administrators and I, need to know, right now, is what the mothers are thinking and feeling. Things they might not tell us, or even their doctors. Whether they’re having second thoughts. What sort of emotional reactions they’re having. Whether they’ve got their own bright ideas about things they should learn, or about what their future role should be.”

  Laura looked as if the food odors might be affecting her after all. “Dr. Cadell. I really don’t see myself —”

  “You don’t have to name names. It’s the information we want, not the sources. You could tell them what you’re doing, or not, depending on what seemed right at the time. But you’d be doing them, and the Project, a real service.”

  Laura looked down at her neglected sandwich. “I could do a little poking around and see what comes up. And then I could decide if I felt right about sharing it. That’s the best I can do.”

  “And that’s all I could ask. Thank you. For wanting to help, and for considering my suggestion. I hope I haven’t spoiled your appetite — any more than the food has.”

  Laura picked up her sandwich and took a tentative bite. When it was safely down, she changed the subject. “You were going to tell me about how you came up with the idea. The Project.”

  Mara ran through her available tactics and decided on flight. She took a last spoonful of soup and pushed back her chair. “I’m sorry, but I won’t have time today. I’ve got to get back to work. Thanks so much for this little respite!”

  She hurried through the goodbyes.

  “So you’ve recruited a spy. Well, that’s much better than making a friend.”

  “I’ve probably managed to do neither. She was clearly uncomfortable about my request. But she did offer to help. And she can help a lot more by providing information than by consuming it, at this stage.”

  “That may be. Although the more important the information, the more likely you are to hear about it. Eventually. Though perhaps too dramatically.”

  Nurses and technicians heard the clatter and crash, and came running. In the exam room, they found a wild-eyed patient, a rapidly retreating ultrasound technician, and on the floor the remains of the ultrasound machine. The woman’s hospital gown was askew, which seemed to be the least of her concerns. She was twisting from side to side as if in search of the next object to attack. Those who had rushed in first halted in the doorway; the others piled into them and thrust them inside despite their efforts. The scrum in the doorway drew the patient’s attention. She pointed at them, at the ultrasound technician, at the machine, and then simply waved her arms around.

  “THERE’S A THING INSIDE ME! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!”

  The nurse who had been pushed farthest into the room decided she might as well be brave. “Ms. — please, honey, tell me your name. We’ll take care of you. We’ll make it all right. What’s your name, hon?”

  The patient looked blankly at her as if the question were too unexpected and irrelevant to cope with.

  “Please, honey. Your name. To start with. Then we’ll talk about the rest of it.”

  The patient seemed less agitated now. She took a deep breath. “Nancy. Nancy Fowler.”

  “Good. That’s very good. Nancy. Now, Nancy, why don’t we sit down. You sit right there, on the exam table —”

  This was a miscalculation. The patient’s eyes grew wild again. “No! Not there! That’s where — there’s a THING inside me! I saw it!!”

  “Shhhh, Nancy, Nancy, it’s OK. You’re going to be fine. Here, let me take you somewhere else. Somewhere safe.” The nurse gestured frantically behind her for the crowd to clear the doorway. When they had managed to do so, she led the patient to a waiting room and then to a deep and comfortable armchair — one from which it would take her some seconds to arise.

  The nurse sat on an unobstructed bench nearby and took her hand. “It’s all right, Nancy. Here we are. Now let’s talk about it. You’re here because you were willing to — to carry babies. Do you remember that?”

  The patient nodded. She whispered, “Babies. I was going to carry babies.”

  “Yes, that’s right. And you knew they would be special babies, didn’t you? One would be a human baby, and —”

  The patient started to push herself out of the chair. The nurse got up and crouched next to her, trying to hold her in place without alarming her further. “Nancy! It’s all right! Take a deep breath. Yes, that’s right. Now let’s go on. Let me see your armband. OK. You’re in the second group. You’re at nineteen weeks. You came in for a checkup. And you were feeling all right?”

  “I was sick.” Her voice grew louder. “It made me sick! I wasn’t getting better! I should have been better!”

  “Nancy, shhh now. Different people get over morning sickness at different times. Even with, uh, regular pregnancies. But I’m sorry you’ve been feeling sick. It’s no fun, I know. I’ve had two children myself. I remember what it’s like. But you get over it, sooner or later.”

  The patient sat rigidly upright. “You’ve never had a THING inside you! You don’t know what’s going to happen! Nobody knows!”

  That was a stumper. The nurse ignored it and moved on. “You were having your checkup. And the technician asked you if you wanted to see the babies. Is that right?”

  The patient’s eyes filled with tears. “I wanted to see the babies. To see babies. And I saw the one little baby. It was so little. And then — right there next to my baby, there was the THING!” She struggled against the nurse’s hand.

  The nurse decided it was time to punt. “Nancy, I’m going to take you somewhere where you can rest. And then I’m going to find the people who can help you. We’ll make it better.
Would you like to rest now?”

  The tears were falling now. “I haven’t been able to sleep. And I keep being sick. And I’m so tired.”

  “We’ll help you sleep. And then we’ll figure out how to help you. We’ll help you.”

  * CONFIDENTIAL *

  CLEARANCE CLASS 3 AND ABOVE

  LEVI Status Report, 6-15-71

  . . . Two of the human hosts have developed psychological abnormalities. Use of psychotropic drugs is contraindicated given the pregnancies. These mothers are being monitored and termination of the pregnancies, or attempted transfer of the fetuses to other host mothers, is a possibility. A mild tranquilizer is being administered to the other hosts as a prophylactic measure. The ultrasound technicians will no longer suggest that host mothers view their ultrasounds . . . .

  Mara put down the status report and answered the call. “Laura! It’s good to hear from you. I have to admit, I hope I know why you’re calling. You heard about Ms. Fowler and Ms. Tennant?”

  “Nancy and Linnea. Yes. And it would have been better, wouldn’t it, if they’d gotten help earlier. . . . I’d like to come and talk to you. About a few other things I’ve noticed lately.”

  “That’d be wonderful.” Mara smiled. “I’ll make the hot water.”

  She hung up and allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. "See, Levi? My idea is bearing fruit."

  "Of a sort, sister mine. Though not, perhaps, as nourishing as it might have been."

  Chapter 6

  Many Project personnel reveled in their opportunities to observe Tofa at close quarters. While other humans might be repulsed to see the Tofa ingesting food through an orifice under the chin, they were simply intrigued.

  Chief Nurse Harriet Gaho, who had done her early training in obstetrics, particularly admired the Tofa solution to multiple pregnancies. She was always pleased to see a Tofa host mother sweep by, carrying her twins one above the other on her tall frame.