|
"It's Not Easy... Superman - Five For Fighting The band members and I hit it off well. Those who weren't gay didn't care if I was-which is as good as a blessing, any day. I sat and watched them practice for a while, just to get a feel for their music… a real eclectic mix with some weird original stuff thrown in, but I didn't hang around until customers arrived. It would take a while for us to figure out what songs we had in common so I could start practicing and singing with them. Buddy, or Fang, or whatever, wanted to come back to my room with me, but I'd be seeing him early next morning and I didn't really feel like waking up next to him yet. He was nice enough and good-looking in a surfer sort of way, but there was something slightly "off" about him, though I wouldn't figure out what it was for some time. Besides, after the day I'd had I really needed to be by myself and think-if I could get my brain to cooperate. Lying on the king-sized bed in my room didn't help… I just kept wishing that Paul was there next to me. After an hour or so I got up and showered again, hoping it would relax me. I even jerked off, doing myself for the first time in ages, but it didn't make me stop wanting him. I finally settled on pacing, wearing a barefooted groove in the thick wall-to-wall carpeting. Maybe I should have stayed in New York. The telephone on the nightstand glared at me reproachfully. I should at least call Dan. But what could I say? The first thing he'd ask was when was I coming home and, even though I might almost wish I had never met Paul, I had met him… and that changed everything. I couldn't go back to ignoring the differences between myself and those around me. I was different. I fucking wasn't from here. I was an alien, born on another planet… in another galaxy, for Christ's sake. How could I just go on drifting through a life that was obviously going to be a lot longer than the ones given to the other people that shared this planet? How many more lovers could I stand to lose? How did I cope with the unexamined grief over the ones I had lost already? Serious, gentle Thomas, killed in the First World War; sweet Eric, who should not have died because I should have saved him… so many others, and now Dan, who would never understand why I left him. I was thinking stuff I never let myself think… scary stuff. I'd always concentrated on just putting one foot in front of the other, and it had gotten me through some bad days, but then I'd thought I didn't have any choice, that I really was the only one like me. I couldn't count the times I'd thought about suicide… just end it all, be dead the way those that made me wanted me to be. But something inside me wouldn't let me do it. Some part of me wanted to live. Now I wanted Paul. I got hard just thinking about that gorgeous body and sweet smile. If only he wanted me too…. No, that wouldn't be right. If he wanted me it would mean he was as broken as I was, and I sure didn't want that. The big bedroom window faced north-the direction from which Paul's vibrations were coming. Whatever link we'd shared today had not been shut down completely. He was always there now, at the periphery of my senses, bright and strong and beautiful… and I wouldn't have it any other way. I fell back on the bed. Yeah, I'd made an unchangeable decision by coming here, and I'd just have to live with it. Somehow I'd have to find a way to fit myself into Paul's life… be just his friend. Shit. It wasn't going to be easy. Tired of head-butting that particular brick wall, my mind turned to wondering what I found strange about "Fang" besides his name. After about five minutes, that couldn't keep me awake. Surfing was fun. I'd tried it a little on the east coast, but this Pacific beach was infinitely better. Like beaches everywhere, there were lots of good looking guys running around in skimpy bathing suits… never a bad thing. Being with Buddy (I'd decided I wasn't calling him Fang. What a stupid name) and his crew reminded me of summers spent hanging with Dan and our friends back home-when it was my home. I shoved away the melancholy and concentrated on the good memories, enjoying the morning and Buddy's increasingly ardent attentions. Still, I kept him mostly at arm's length, managing somehow for once not to act like the slut I was. Paul had called, just before we left for the beach, and tonight the dinner with Vaira was on. Wondering and worrying about how that would go kept me from making plans with Buddy, and there was no way we were doing it on the beach, behind a sand dune, with his friends looking on. Gang bangs, with me as the bangee, have never been my thing. After we made it back I barely had time for a shower before Paul's automaton friend, Kareinon, was there to pick me up. I had dressed carefully for the occasion-all black except for my new gray sharkskin sports jacket. The tie felt like a bit much, especially in the humid summer heat, but with Paul's wife I figured I needed all the help I could get. I noticed more of the city on this ride, without Paul. It seemed a lot less organized than New York City, but then they had more room to spread out, not being on an island and all. I still couldn't get used to the palm trees. They were so tall that what little shade they provided was sometimes blocks away from the base of the trunk. It was still early, so we went to Paul's office, where we'd met yesterday. Had it only been yesterday? Today I was a little more prepared, but it was still a shock to see him again and realize that my memory hadn't exaggerated anything. He was dressed much the same, in tans and off-whites that emphasized his pale hair and those big dark eyes. It was all I could do to stand in the doorway, concentrating on not reaching for him, while my throat closed up and shivers ran down my spine. Then he smiled at me and took my hand, leading me through the building and into a little outdoor plaza hidden in its center. There was an umbrella table, chairs, and a pitcher of something cold with two glasses. He kept my hand as we sat, squeezing it a little. I was aware of the tremendous controlled strength behind the gentle movement. He must have to be careful all the time not to break things. How did he make love to his wife? Carefully, I was willing to bet. "Dear Evan, I couldn't sleep last night because I was thinking about you." I caught my breath. I had vowed to be only friendly today, but he wasn't making it easy. Nothing he did or said was sexual, but my body had no trouble interpreting it that way. I tried for a smile. "I had a few problems with that myself." I looked up at blue sky and swaying palm fronds. "This place is quite a change for me." Yeah, it's always safe to talk about the weather. He nodded. "Yes, very different from New York City." He kept looking at me and holding my hand, and I kept getting that finger-in-the-light-socket feeling. Again I was both wonderfully excited and dreadfully uncomfortable. I wondered if being around him would ever get any easier. "I've been thinking," he said. "I just can't understand why I never sensed your presence here on Earth. You must tell me everything about you. Please?" I guessed this was as close to babbling as he ever got. Maybe being around me was affecting him, too. Thinking that made me feel a little better. "Well, um…." I'd rehearsed a thousand times last night and this morning, but there was so much emotion connected with all of it I didn't know where to begin. At the beginning, I guessed. "I grew up in the palace, just like you. I had a playmate, a girl named Rahlee, and when I was about nine years old, she came to me and said the 'big three' scientists wanted us to have sex together." Paul nodded encouragingly, his eyes showing his understanding and compassion. "The idea made me sick… literally. I couldn't do it, and Rahlee told me they would kill me if I didn't leave right away. So I ran. I just picked a planet at random and jumped. And here I am." Saying that to Paul brought it all back. I found that I remembered things I couldn't have known first hand. It was almost like it had happened to someone else…. Rahlee was gone… he could hear her running away down the long hall outside his room. He kept vomiting, insides convulsing with agonizing spasms long after his lunch had been well lost. He hadn't thrown up in years-everything he ate was digested easily now. This sickness had nothing to do with his belly-it was something he could not keep in his mind-but he had no other way to cleanse himself. He wished there were something he could do that would restore the innocent relationship that he and Rahlee had had, just this morning. But now, neither of them would ever forget what had happened. He still felt sick inside, and completely bewildered. It did not occur to him to question his teacher's motives in a direct fashion. He had been taught that reading thoughts without permission was wrong, and he did not think-even in his extremity-to break that rule now. Exhausted, he lay still, half dozing on his bed, wondering why no one had come to clean up after him as they always had before. But when he heard feet in the hallway he suddenly sat up, heart thudding in his throat. Rahlee ran to him, tears flowing down her face. She threw slender arms around his shoulders, her eyes locking on his, wide with fear. "Univa, they're coming! You must go-they mean to hurt you, kill you-GO!!!" What was she saying? He couldn't understand, he couldn't think. "Go? Go where?" She squeezed him in a fierce hug, then pushed him back roughly. "I don't know where, but you must go!" She ran for the door, opened it and closed it firmly behind her. He heard many other feet approaching, heavy feet. Soldiers, he thought. Questioning as last, he opened his mind. Too much information came in at once, all jumbled and strange. All that he could decipher was the terror in Rahlee's mind and the confused resolution in the thoughts of the first young soldier-he carried a charged and ready disrupter in practiced hands. Weapons were never allowed in the palace. With sudden belief in the danger, he gathered himself and jumped. Almost without thinking, he found himself in Chaldin's apartment on the planet Thaenus. He had been here only once, and had not been on his own even then, but it just seemed the one right place to be. He had been panting, near terror, but now all was changed for the better. If he had known the words, he would have said that he loved Chaldin[1], the only man who had ever shown him anything more than calculated kindness. Chaldin had always seemed sincerely interested in the boy's thoughts and feelings, but not in the clinical, measuring way of the others. It was as though he really saw the boy, as no one else did-the person who lived inside the all-important mind and body. He was so glad to see the familiar sandy-haired man that he almost forgot himself and gave in to the impulse to throw his arms around him. Only Rahlee hugged him any more, and that would not be happening again-not after today. His eyes clouded. What would happen to Rahlee? Dimly, he knew she had hidden things from him, things that Number One made her do. But he didn't want to know those things, so he tried not to see them. Perhaps though, the things that Rahlee knew and did might mean that Number One would not hurt her. Rahlee was different, like he was different, but not exactly. She could not escape from the palace the way he had, he knew-she could never leave the planet Lecurela. It was part of the way she was made. Chaldin was amazed. How had the young Prince arrived here in his own private apartment without his knowing? No announcements of the visit had been made. It was unprecedented. At last he really looked at the boy, noticing for the first time his disheveled hair and dress, the faint smell of sickness. Something must be dreadfully wrong. His heartbeat quickening, he approached the boy who had always both frightened and fascinated him. Chaldin had always done his best to treat the young prince in the way he would any lad, with kindness and respect. He honestly liked the boy. The child never acted puffed-up with his own importance, never asked for too much. He was completely unspoiled. If Chaldin was honest with himself, he had to admit that, rather than spoiled, the boy had been abused. In spite of the power that fairly glowed from him, he had been pummeled into submission to the political drives of his regent, Relias, and the unholy three who aided him. Their treatment of this very special boy was morally wrong, as well as completely against the original plans and wishes of the Council. But Chaldin, like so many of the council members, feared them. Terrified now for the child and for himself, he approached him, struck that the boy was crying. "Univa, are you all right?" The boy looked up, his emotions nakedly visible. What must have happened to cause this massive distress? His answer was an armful of crying boy. Chaldin did not remember the little Prince being so grown-up. He was barely past childhood, and yet he almost stood man-high. It was part of the boy's primary mutation, he knew, to be tall and strong when others of an age were still tangled in the throes of childhood. His face had the look of almost-maturity as well, except for the expression of loss in the pale grey eyes. It had taken Chaldin a long time to get used to that bodily coloring in the young Prince. He knew that his creators had expected him to have the dark skin and light hair possessed by the majority of Lecurelan nobles. But the boy looked Syrdisian[2]-which was understandable, he supposed, since some of his genes came from those people… and from Chaldin's people on Thaenus too, of course… from all the federated planets. Chaldin supposed that some geneticist had been censured over that particular "mistake," but so much was already invested in the child before his birth that the matter of his coloring was small enough to be overlooked. "Univa, please, tell me what is wrong. I can't help you if you won't talk to me." Ah, the voice of reason, words stated so calmly that no one would know the turmoil in his heart. Or so he hoped. The boy looked up at him, still clinging tight. "I can't go back there… not ever. They will kill me." Chaldin's blood was ice. He did not doubt that the young Prince's assessment could be correct. He had known of the plan to eliminate failures in the genetic experiments that finally produced this beautiful child. How many had been eliminated already? But they were removed as imperfect embryos, not fully developed, aware beings! How could this child have displeased the rulers so much that they would eliminate him now, when so much more time and effort had been invested, when the people were expecting to be introduced to their future ruler in only a few short years? Chaldin felt the raw power thrumming through the boy. Could they kill him? But he knew it was possible, because the child was as yet immature and unaware of his strength. He would fail to protect himself against them. Chaldin shivered. What would be the rulers' judgment of someone who sympathized with the fallen prince… who perhaps sheltered him? Chaldin would not have believed that his terror could increase, but it did. The rulers would be looking for him, if they weren't already. The child could not stay here! Chaldin forgot his own fear for a moment in the gaze of those pale eyes. He sat the boy down on his bed, gently untangling the arms from around his neck. "Tell me what happened, Univa?" At last the words spilled from him. "Rahlee, my playmate, came to me. She said we would play a new game. We like playing games." The boy's voice was still high and innocent. Chaldin considered the girl, Rahlee. She had also been genetically engineered by order of the Council, but she was not like the boy. She had no manifest powers, only the potential to pass on her pure genetic code to her offspring, offspring that could be sired only by the boy. Could that be it? They had decided to produce another of their "experiments," but in a far more direct fashion? But why so soon? The girl was old enough to reproduce, he supposed, but the boy, even with his accelerated development, had to be barely capable. Even so, what could have gone wrong? Relias and his friends were used to getting what they wanted; they must have prepared both children for their roles… or had they? "It was a strange game-I didn't like it. She touched me and said I had to touch her in certain places, and when I didn't want to she almost cried." Chaldin handed the boy the night-time drink he had prepared for himself. Perhaps it would calm him. The child drank the warm mixture gratefully. He sniffled, then resumed his speech. "After a while, I just said 'no', and then Rahlee said we had to or they would be really angry. I could see she was scared, so I tried to do what she wanted…." The words trailed away and stopped. The boy's grey eyes were empty. Chaldin couldn't believe that even the Lecurelan rulers would threaten children this way. "What happened then?" he asked, gently. The boy shook his dark head. "I tried, but I couldn't do it… I threw up." He looked as though he might loose the drink he had just taken as well, but he steadied himself with a visible effort, then raised his eyes to Chaldin's, all childhood left behind and the shadow of manhood before him. "They wanted us to have sex together, I know that. But it would have been wrong for me to have sex with Rahlee. Rahlee is my… my friend. She isn't for that." Chaldin found that he couldn't look away, though he wanted to. He had little gift for direct telepathy, but suddenly he felt that he knew just what the boy would say next. "I know about sex. They taught me. I just couldn't have it with Rahlee." The compelling, beautiful voice assumed a deeper tone and a more cautious manner. "There are persons I might like to have sex with…." Chaldin wanted to run away, but there was nowhere he might go that this child would not be able to find him. So this was what displeased them so-that they would never get a chance to see the results of their planned breeding program? It was enough, he supposed. Homosexuality was not unheard of on any planet but, in the Federation's potential ruler… the long proposed and finally created "perfect" one? He knew it would not, could not, be tolerated. More personally, how had the boy fixed on him as a sex object? He had done nothing to provoke this but to show the lad human kindness. Perhaps it was because his was the only kindness that the child had received. The boy turned his dark head, reaching back to loosen the ribbon that confined the cascade of long black hair. Chaldin's mind backed away, but his body could not move. This could not be happening to him. "I can't go back to Lecurela. I want to stay here… with you." His expression was so serious, beguiling but innocent. Surely he did not understand what he was saying-what he was offering. In the turmoil of Chaldin's mind, one thing was perfectly clear. The boy could not stay there or both their lives would be forfeit. He took hold of the young, muscular shoulders. "Listen to me, Univa-you mustn't stay here, they will find you. You must go far away, somewhere they will never look." The boy rocked back as though Chaldin had slapped him. He wanted so much to be safe. He felt that if Chaldin would only hold him, everything would be all right. He sighed. Except that he knew it wouldn't. They wouldn't rest until he was gone for real… dead and forgotten, he knew that now. And Thaenus was one of the first places they would look. His lip trembled. Chaldin didn't want him, either. No one did. Perhaps it would be better to die than to feel this way. He shook his head. He could feel that his body wanted to live. It would not let him die, no matter how bad his mind felt. So then, where could he go? They would find him here on Thaenus or any of the other Federation planets, he knew that. Chaldin was right. He did know about a lot of planets that did not belong to the Federation. He had been force-fed a map of almost the entire universe. But which one should he choose? Something far away, Chaldin said-very far. One planet he remembered was far away in space and time, but strange too… primitive. Its people looked very much as he did… maybe he could hide among them. Fine, he didn't want to think anymore; that place was as good as any other. He closed his eyes to assist his memory-he had never been there, and a clear picture was essential. He corrected all the universal motions easily, without really thinking, to locate where the planet was now. With one last wistful look at Chaldin, he jumped. Chaldin heard nothing, not even the expected "pop" of displaced air. One moment the boy was standing there, eyes closed in concentration, the next he was gone. Chaldin reached out a hand, disbelieving, though he knew that the space before him was now empty. A sob broke, unbidden, from his throat. He knew he could not protect the boy, but he desperately, illogically, wholeheartedly, wanted him back. The boy watched the blue and green planet slowly spinning on its tilted axis. He had to go down there to the surface; he needed to breathe. He was chagrinned to find that he had forgotten how not to breathe, but that was the fact and there was nothing else for it. Perhaps he would just take a dip into the atmosphere and a quick breath and then go on somewhere else. This planet was so… empty. There were only a few cities large enough to be so named, and such long open spaces stretched between them. Lecurela was full of people, everywhere. There were no empty plains or barren deserts. He had never been alone before… not out of calling distance, anyway. In a way, it was exhilarating; there was no one to judge him or to tell him what to do. But it was frightening too, and lonely. His lungs were collapsing; he couldn't wait any longer. He scanned the whirling lands below him, stubbornly deciding to pick a place where there was no one at all to see him. Then he went down. Not like flying or falling or any other way of moving… he was just there, where he had decided to be. He quickly inhaled the oxygen-rich air. It was filled with unfamiliar smells, but good nonetheless. He took in a lot of it, lungs pumping gratefully, until he had to sit down on the loose dirt to rest. After a while, he looked around him. The ground he sat on was flat and empty of growing things. The barren track could not be a real road, because it was only dirt, no wider than two lengths of his body, but its curve stretched away in both directions, farther than he could see with his eyes. His mind wanted to tell him all it remembered from looking down while he hung above the planet, and his senses wanted to give him information about everything that was around him now, but he was tired of knowing things. So he just sat in the dirt, almost directly in the middle of the rough path, and thought of nothing. He didn't even know he was crying. Christopher Black was enjoying the trip home from town. He was used to being outdoors; the chill weather and the jolting seat of the horse-drawn wagon didn't bother him. He was one of the only folks around these parts whose chickens were still laying, this late in the season, so he had received a good price for their eggs. The Christmas holidays and baking were over, but lots of folks favored eggnog for New Year's and the storekeeper was glad to give him a little more money than usual. The chickens were his sole responsibility and, thanks to them, Christopher had a good nest egg of his own put by for the future. Some day he wanted to be able to ask Mary Alice Richards to marry him, and even though they might live on the same farm with Papa and Mama, that didn't mean he wouldn't want to build her a house of her own. He hadn't spoken to Papa about it, not formally anyway, but he knew the older man understood. He had been a boy too once, and he always smiled at Christopher when he asked to walk Mary Alice home after Sunday services. He pulled up the collar of the dark blue coat made specially of wool that Mama had spun, dyed, woven, and sewn just for him. It was as thick and nice as Papa's, and almost as large. At fifteen, Christopher was nearly a grown man. With his black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin, he looked a lot like Papa too, except that Papa's hair was coming in a bit gray now, over his ears. Of course, Mama had the same coloring herself, so they often commented that the children came by it rightfully. The breeze had a determined chill to it, but there was no sign of snow, so far. He was almost home, so it could start snowing if it wanted to. Sam, the sturdy brown half-Belgian gelding, would find the way in any weather. Christopher was proud to be trusted with the responsibility of buying the family supplies. Often, one of the younger boys would go along with him when he went to town, but Simon was still down with the influenza, and Mama wouldn't even let him out of bed. That influenza was sure bad stuff-he had heard tell that people were dying of it. Simon was getting better, though, thank the Lord. All at once, Christopher sat up straighter on the seat. There was something big in the road up ahead. He couldn't be sure just what, but it almost looked like… a girl! "Hey!" he shouted, easing the gelding to a stop. He dropped the reins and climbed down quickly. The girl didn't move. She was just there in the road, sitting like a lump. Christopher approached the figure cautiously. Was she hurt? Then, just as he stood right over the person-shaped lump, a face turned up to look him in the eyes, and it wasn't a girl at all, but a boy, he realized… a boy with long black hair. He was surprised to see the boy standing over him. He hadn't been aware of the wagon's approach, lost too far down the road of his own private despair. But now he saw a boy with hair much the same color as his own, only cut quite short, and eyes that were as blue as the sky. He had never seen eyes quite like those before. It was almost enough to startle him out of his doldrums. No one else on Lecurela had black hair like he did… except Rahlee, of course. That thought brought a fresh curtain of tears that got in the way of any more new sights. The boy was crying-shame, a big boy like him. He didn't look hurt or anything. He was wearing some funny-looking clothes, though… some kind of loose wrapped-around shirt and pants and no shoes or jacket at all. Christopher knew he'd be frozen without his heavy coat. Maybe that was why the boy was crying… he was cold. When the boy didn't move, Christopher decided he'd had enough of the silence. The boy looked almost as old as him and, if he didn't have any better manners, then Christopher would show his own. "Hey, are you all right?" The boy looked puzzled, as though he really might not understand, and Christopher felt bad for his impatience. Maybe the boy was a foreigner? But then, what was he doing out here by himself? This was strange, for sure. Then, just when Christopher was sure he wouldn't, the boy spoke. It came out slow and careful, like he had forgotten how to talk and was just now remembering. "Yes, I'm… all right." His voice quivered, but was easily understandable, even though there was a little bit of a foreign sound to the words. The boy blinked, then wiped his wet eyes on his sleeve, looking down at it as though surprised to find moisture there. "Well, what are you doing out here?" Christopher gestured around, taking in the bare, harvested fields, the dusty road, and the horizon that seemed to go on forever. The boy's eyes followed his arm curiously, as though he hadn't seen any of it before, then they rested with interest on the wagon and horse. When there was no answer, Christopher shook his head. "Come on, I'll take you home with me. Mama and Papa can sort it all out tonight." He led the unresisting boy toward the wagon and pushed him up into the tall seat with some difficulty. He wasn't reluctant to go, exactly, but it seemed that he didn't know how to get into a wagon and had never sat on such a seat before. Christopher shook his head, disgusted with himself for such flights of fancy. Someone who'd never sat in a wagon? That was just silly. He draped an old piece of sacking over the boy's shoulders against the cold-it was all he had. The gelding resumed his steady pace toward home, and Christopher had time to think of other questions. "Are you lost?" The boy again took so long to answer that Christopher didn't think he would, then: "Yes." No more words were forthcoming, and Christopher waited as long as he could before curiosity finally got the better of him. "Well, where are your folks?" "Folks?" The reply was truly puzzled now. "Your family… do they live around here?" The boy flinched as though Christopher had hit him. "I don't have any family." No family? Poor kid, he must be an orphan. "Well then… how old are you?" The boy's face went blank for a moment, then he answered slowly, "Nine years." "Nine!" Christopher was amazed. "Why, you're almost as big as me!" The boy seemed cautious. "Is that… bad?" "What, being big?" The boy nodded. "No, it's good to be big when you work on a farm. I just thought maybe you were older, thirteen or fourteen, anyway." The boy nodded in understanding, seemingly neither pleased nor displeased with Christopher's explanation. Well, at least being younger than he thought explained the boy's crying… a little. He thought he'd try a really simple question, this time. "What's your name?" His name? It had been easy to translate the measure of his age into revolutions of this planet, but… his name? He had once been given a name, but those who had named him now rejected him… he was not worthy of it. He knew what that name meant, "Univa"… unity, the responsibility it carried. It seemed he had always known-and they told him again every day. So… that name was not his anymore, and… he straightened a bit… he didn't want it. So, if he had to go on living, who was he to be now? What would anyone call him? A word came to him, a sad but true word, and he said it without thinking, in their language, as it came to him from the bigger boy's mind. "I'm Alone." The dark-haired boy didn't seem to understand what he meant, but he was kind about it. "Well, you're not alone any more now, but… what's your name?" He knew the word he had chosen was right. It felt right… it was him. Perhaps he shouldn't have translated it. He tried again, using the language he had grown up with. "I'm Evan." Christopher shook his head. "Evan, huh? That's not a common name around these parts. Guess it'll do, though. What's the rest of it… your last name?" The boy looked as though he might tear up again, but answered in a firm tone. "I'm Evan… that's all." Christopher nodded. Well, maybe Mama or Papa could figure it out. The wagon was pulling into the drive, anyway. Christopher stopped in front of the house and helped the boy down, though he seemed plenty strong enough to have gotten down by himself. Martha Black had seen many a strange thing in her life, and looking out the window at Christopher leading a barefoot, long-haired child in white pants across her snow-covered porch, she reckoned she had now seen them all. "What in the world has that boy found?" she muttered, clutching baby Isaac to her breast. She deposited the drowsy infant in his cradle and headed for the door, stopping only to stir the thick venison stew that was to be tonight's supper. Her oldest son wiped his boots and removed his coat in the vestibule, but the other child only stood quietly, large gray eyes wide as they took in the house and its occupants. Christopher gave the figure a little forward shove. "Mama, this is Evan. He was in the middle of the road, a couple miles back. I think he's an orphan… and a foreigner," Chris added. "He doesn't talk much." Martha walked closer. "Hello, Evan," she said slowly. The child-a boy then, in spite of the long wet hair that straggled down his back-regarded her with mixed caution and curiosity. "Hello, Mama," he said. He had never seen a dwelling like this one, built of rough planks and heated by raw fire enclosed in a metal box. He had never seen a woman like Mama, either, dressed in a long loose garment of some plant fiber, blue, imprinted with images of tiny star-like flowers and cinched at the waist with a brown belted garment dusted with particles of some grain-like substance. "Well, I never," she said. And she smiled at him, warm and welcoming. Evan began to cry. Martha Black took no time for judgments; no matter how old or strange, a crying child was a crying child. She moved forward, enclosing the boy's body in her ample arms. "Christopher, you heat some water for washing." She tilted the child's face up and wiped the streaming eyes with her flour-dusted apron. "You must be frozen," she said. "It's all right, Evan. We'll take care of you." John Black scratched his head, standing next to his wife in the dusky hallway, watching the strange boy sleeping in the bed, next to four-year-old Nicholas. The odd child had consumed an amazing quantity of Martha's stew and biscuits at supper. "Well," he said, "I've asked around, but nobody's heard anything about a missing boy-for sure not one who'd fit that description. Reckon all we can do is go on asking." Martha nodded. "One thing for sure, we can't turn him out. It just wouldn't be Christian. He seems like a good boy, John, mannerly and eager to please." Evan had set the table for her, after being shown with one place-setting, and he cleared and dried the dishes too, never dropping a one. Martha pointed at the two dark heads side by side on the pillow. "Look at him, Papa, he could almost be one of our own." A small body pushed between her parents. "Are we keeping him?" seven-year-old Sally whispered. John tugged his daughter's black braid. "Do you want him, pumpkin-puss?" he asked affectionately. "He could be a lot of trouble." She nodded. "I'll watch after him." "Well, there you have it then, Mama," John said. "It's all settled." The boy whimpered in his sleep. "He's a fine big lad for nine years old." John ran a work-roughened hand over his own close-cropped head. "All he needs now is a haircut." Martha smiled. I pulled my hand out of Paul's grasp and used it to cover my eyes. Those bare bones of memory I'd just presented to Paul were fully fleshed with pain in my mind. To show it to him in detail I'd only have to let him touch my thoughts, but that was something I knew I couldn't bear. As a child I'd been innocent, oblivious to the political intrigues around me. Even though I had been indoctrinated with everything known about the universe, I had never thought to apply any of it to my own situation… it wasn't real for me until that awful day when my childhood ended. He didn't try to enter my mind, but I could feel his gentle caring wrapping itself around me with the comfort of a blanket on a cold morning. I sighed, relaxing a little, leaning on Paul's energy. The recalled grief and fear were almost fresh in my mind now, but there had been no comfort for me then, not until later, and Paul made all the difference. "I had a playmate too, Evan. Her name was Vahlee." I nodded; the "lee" suffix indicated someone born to serve. "They did not ask us to have sex together until I was thirteen." I looked up. How nice of them to postpone it for a while. "But you did it?" He nodded, his habitual smile fading with the memory. "Yes, but only because they insisted. It felt wrong, like a violation." My skin crawled. "Why do you think they wanted that?" I blurted. I'd never had anyone to ask before. "I mean, we were only children." He smiled, but not as though he was happy. "I asked them, after a while. They said they wanted to see how well I functioned in every way, and that this was just a test, no different than any of the other tests they often ran. I disagreed because it involved another person, and the answer was that she was nothing, not a person, only a living vessel designed to serve me." His sad eyes met mine briefly. "I have often wondered what became of Vahlee, after I left." I knew what he meant. Rahlee had been my best and only friend when I was growing up, and leaving her behind had carved a wound on my soul that had never completely healed. But I could not bring her with me. The scientists who designed her, and me, had wrought well. She had the same potential power that I did, but all of it was locked up, latent in her genes, unable to be expressed. The only use she could make of her "gifts" was to pass them on to her children. And she was so made that only I could impregnate her. As a final touch, she could not leave Lecurela. If she tried to, she would die. I looked at Paul, certain that our expressions were equally bleak. Because of what they had done to Rahlee, and to me, I hated the Lecurelan scientists. I could see no hatred in Paul's sad gaze, but that was all right… I had enough hate for both of us. My words came out from between gritted teeth. "I promise you, Paul… one day, I will find out what happened to them." How, I didn't know, but I felt the truth of that unthinking, emotional statement reverberate through me like the sound of a gong. I had never before considered going back to the planet I was born on, but because of those awakened memories I knew I would. Maybe it wouldn't be tomorrow, I wasn't ready to face those that had created and then discarded me like a broken tool, but I would grow until I was strong enough. The decision left me shaken but resolute. Paul took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. His expression brightened until the sun again shone in his smile. "Yes," he said, simply, believing me, trusting me. I felt warm all over.
|