Cydrin looked pointedly away from her. “Then perhaps you have forgotten a great deal of my deficiencies.”
Ire faded into concern, and she wished she was free to go to him, to shock him into openness by plopping down in his lap and urging him to share what was troubling him.
But that was not conducive with her little charge, so she settled on bumping her foot against his, needing some sort of contact with him. “Maybe,” she allowed, although it was pointless to coddle him. She remembered that first time in the market, the stilted way he spoke, entirely unable to relate to the people surrounding him. It was a deficiency. One that could be worked on with practise and care, but that did not change that it existed. “But I can say honestly that you have improved a very great deal since we first knew each other.” She wanted a hand free to manoeuvre into his, but she’d positioned the baby wrongly to allow it. They needed to find a secure spot for her naps, and quickly. “And you’ll continue to get better at talking to people who aren’t me, as I can assure you, if we get to go home there will be plenty of them to practise on.”
There was no mistaking the hint of a grimace that crossed his features, and she could admit to the brief flash of panic that went through her that he had changed his mind. Perhaps about everything.
She swallowed, forcing herself to calm, to not make assumptions about things he had not said, but it was a challenge.
“You aren’t reconsidering, are you?” she asked, a lump settling in her throat that made speech difficult. “Is that what this is about? You don’t want me to tell them about you because...”
He cut her off, and she was grateful, because she didn’t want to speak the words.
She had never formally accepted, but they had settled into an easy time of simply knowing.
Knowing that was their aim, for once unified in its goal.
Unless he was altering things.
“It is not that,” he assured her, and she found that she could breathe again.
“Then what is it?” she asked gently, now able to take such a tone.
“If I do not perform adequately,” he admitted after a time of silence, collecting his thoughts. “Then they will disapprove of me. Most especially if their daughter is determined to bind herself to me in marital congress.” She gaped at him, both in disbelief and because she had never heard marriage referred to as such.
“They aren’t like that,” she told him, trying to decide how best she might convince him to trust a family he’d never met. “You don’t have to try too hard with them. Where I come from... you make the best match you can.” She suppressed a grimace of her own, hating how she made her homeworld sound. It was a lovely place, with plenty of good in it. And if they went back, there would be even more. “If I could just tell Mama how I feel about you,” she made sure he was looking at her, so he could see her sincerity, the sureness she had of him. “She’ll be overjoyed. Truly. And if they want to speak with you, it’ll be to thank you for bringing me home.” A breath, even now missing it so dearly. “And making it so I can stay.”
But to say it aloud gave her pause, the little burden nestled against her shoulder, sleeping so peacefully a reminder that was not a promise she could make. Not yet. Not until...
She didn’t want to think about it. Not when she feared she might start to cry if she thought too long on how hard it would be to say goodbye. Clairy was not very good at keeping her distance, and even her determination to keep from naming the baby was not enough for her burgeoning attachment.
“A compromise,” Clairy offered at last when Cydrin merely stared and before she began to doubt herself further. “When she is settled with her family, I will tell mine about you. Are we agreed?”
Cydrin’s attention shifted to the huddled infant, and Clairy could not fight the instinct to nuzzle her cheek against the downy head.
An alert appeared on screen before he could give his assent, and thankfully Cydrin was able to stifle any sound before it could disturb their charge. “What’s that?” she asked, Cydrin skimming through the notice before she could glean anything meaningful.
There was a glint in his eye, something that once would have frightened her and even now sent a tinge of nervousness through her. Was it news of the Project? Finally? Or were they going to be arrested for their participation or...
“I believe I have located their new planet of residence,” Cydrin answered, every bit of him satisfied with his prowess.
She should be glad. It was what they had waited for, and what she had known was coming.
But as he reprogrammed their route to this Mishtar, all she truly felt was dread.
21
“You’re sure this is them?” Clairy asked for the fourth time, the infant tight against her chest.
He did not grow annoyed with her for her need for questions. He knew well that this transition was going to be a difficult one for her, and already he had caught her crying over her charge, whispering that she was sorry and that she would be with her proper family now.
All that was assuming that 932 and his companion were willing to take her.
He would not say that he felt as attached to the infant as Clairy had become, but he had grown used to her presence on the ship and the absence would be profound.
“The bio-readers are certain,” Cydrin confirmed yet again. “We can meet with them and you can ascertain for yourself if you are satisfied with the situation.”
Clairy pressed a kiss to the baby’s head. “Tell me about where they live,” she entreated, her voice already tight with tears. They were approaching the settlement now, the open field beside the dwelling an ideal place for landing.
She had spent a great deal of time using the computer to study about Mishtar, their laws and dealings, the environment that the small one would be raised in. It was not logical that she would be asking him now, and she likely knew more than he did, but evidently she was having trouble recalling all she’d learned.
“It is a planet that thrives mainly off tourism. They have chosen to settle away from the falls, so there will be more privacy than if they’d selected one of the developed areas. The planet, as a whole, is known for safety.”
Clairy nodded before swallowing tightly. The gentle hum of the landing thrusters engaged, and there was a panicked look in her eyes. “If I took you with me,” she murmured to the baby who looked back at her with wide, dark eyes. “If I chose to have my family and you... it would be all right for a while. And then you would grow up and someone... some man would pick you and you’d just repeat all that I’ve been through.” A grimace, and to her credit, Clairy did not glance at him. “But maybe there wouldn’t be a job you could take off-world that would get you out of it. And maybe there wouldn’t be a nice man that you loved that would offer to take you back home so you could be with us.” Another three kisses pressed onto plump cheeks. “So instead I’m going to give you a home that can be yours for always. And parents that will love you and understand where you came from, even if you don’t even realise there was anything different about it.”
The infant smiled, an action she had taken to of late that thrilled Clairy each time it occurred. “I do love you,” Clairy told her, laughing lightly through her tears. “And you won’t even remember me.”
That was accurate, as all his reading had assured that memories were only retained at a much more advanced age.
The thought of Clairy being forgotten was a disturbing one to him, most especially after all she had done for the child.
But he would remember.
And he would remind her of the good she had done, even if it was temporary. The ship settled against hard earth, and time would be short before 932 came to investigate the intrusion on his settlement.
Not that he would be able to enter.
“Are you prepared to exit?” he asked, not certain how much time she required for her more private goodbye.
Clairy released a shuddering breath, and nodded, following him to the main doors. He opened it, the gangway de
scending on its own in preparation for their departure, only for Clairy to take a step backward.
“To exit would mean going in the other direction,” he reminded her, and her eyes were wide and frightened. He looked out, trying to ascertain the source of her distress. The landscape was not quite as he imagined, the vids from the planetary database showcasing the most vibrant greens. This land was more muted, a small dwelling settled back into a copse of trees.
The air was warmer too, and he wondered if the infant would acclimate adequately to the new environment.
“I can’t go out there,” Clairy choked out.
Cydrin stilled. “You will have to clarify your meaning,” he informed her, wondering if their plans, the effort it took to track down his compatriot were for nothing.
“If I go, I’m going to find any reason at all not to like those people. And... and I’m going to scoop her back up and keep her with us.” She was crying freely now, and it was beginning to upset her charge. “And I know that isn’t what’s best for her. Not in the long run.”
Cydrin did not disagree, but Clairy’s distress was his distress.
“Then what would you like to do?” he was forced to press as she was not being terribly clear with her intentions.
She took a step forward, passing the infant over to him. “You will have to do it,” she murmured, looking as if she had just committed the ultimate betrayal. “And... and make sure they know what she likes, and...”
She leaned down to press even more kisses to the baby’s face. “And you have a wonderful life, lovey,” she murmured. “And don’t be too angry with me for not being there when you meet your parents.”
Cydrin opened his mouth to remind her that the infant would not recall any of this exchange, regardless of who was present, but he closed it again. It did not matter.
He allowed Clairy to wrap her fingers about the tiny hand, watched as she squeezed it and pressed it to her face briefly.
Before she slipped a scrap of paper into the folds of the blanket, almost as if she was trying to do so without his notice.
He would ask her later about it, but for now...
There was a man with a blaster approaching the vessel, and while Cydrin had a pocket full of weaponry to diffuse any situation with precision, he had not expected to be holding the infant.
The exchange was quick. Perhaps there was more he should have said, should have asked them about their willingness and capability to care and protect the child. But it was unnecessary to ask after 932’s skills, as they would be almost identical to Cydrin’s.
And as soon as his companion—perhaps by now his wife—approached and saw the infant settled in his arms...
There was no doubting the desire he saw there.
The longing.
The child would be wanted and loved. Perhaps more reluctantly by 932, but enthusiastically by the woman he had chosen.
And that was enough.
His arms felt strangely empty when he passed her over, and it was a struggle to ignore the insistent pull that demanded he retrieve her.
That was not his place. She was where she belonged, where she would be safe and well looked after.
And he...
He belonged with the woman doubtlessly sobbing alone in their ship, too afraid of herself to descend.
He opened his arms to her as the doors were closing and she fell against him, his arms surrounding and holding. Her tears had dried but he did not trust it, not when she appeared numb rather than calm.
She thanked him, as if such a thing was necessary.
And then she enquired as to their next location.
He was slightly more hesitant in response, as he was unsettled by her demeanour. She was too detached when she had been harrowed only moments before, although he trusted her adamance that they depart, and quickly.
It would be wise to do so, after all, before Clairy changed her mind and he ripped the child away from its new mother.
This had been the plan. And he was the one to enact it once settled, even if Clairy began to falter and required a little more prompting to remember their agreements.
It was only when the ship was moving again, her settled into the seat beside him, her hand tightly in his, that tears began to fall again. Slow and quiet at first, more robust as the ground grew farther away.
And as they watched the three bodies disappear into the dwelling, the door closing behind them.
He should enquire after the note she had placed within the infant’s blanket, but now did not seem the time. Not when she was struggling so acutely.
He faltered when setting their location. It had been easy enough to extrapolate the location of her homeworld from the coordinates of the transmission, but somehow he needed to ask, just once more, if that was where she wanted to go.
“Are you ready to go home?” he enquired, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, as she seemed to do that with him when she wanted to coax an answer from him.
Clairy took a shuddering breath, her eyes widening with alarm. “I... I need to get out,” she entreated, appearing far too panicked. Now was not the time to remind her that it was unsafe to escape from the vessel. They had not exited the atmosphere, not yet, but that did not mean it was an option. The air would still be too thin to support her, most especially if she was having trouble calming herself.
He did not expect her to rip her hand away before going to the main door. It would not engage, not without the sensors acknowledging that the ground was present, but he took her plea more seriously, setting their location at a safe distance away, the area seemingly isolated enough for a landing without too many questions.
She was shaking, and the minutes it took for the ship to reach their destination, even at the speed he had set for the course, were agonising. “Clairy,” he called, but she shook her head, laying it against the cool metal of the door.
“I want out,” she murmured again, her arms twining about herself. He had not seen her in such a state since...
Since he had brought her here. Unwilling and so terribly unhappy, and he did not relish seeing it again.
When the ship finally settled once again, she stumbled out, uncaring of any dangers that might be present.
She had been cooped up too long, that was all. She had elected too many times to remain with the baby while he tended to business on-world. He should have arranged more outings so she was not driven to such a state when all he wished was to see to her care and protect her.
He was quick to follow her out, his eyes scanning for signs of danger. It was a strangely deserted place, although he supposed that was partly due to the weather. It was cold, the chill a shock compared to the heat he’d experienced on the same world, but evidently Mishtar was a small planet and it had not taken long to reach its darker side.
The ground beneath his feet resembled sand, his boots sinking into it with every step, Clairy seeming to manage much better with her uncovered appendages.
She ran for a bit, seemingly determined to reach the water’s edge, and a sudden fear surged through him that she was intent on entering it.
And many skills had been drilled into him, but swimming had not been one of them.
“Clairy!” he called, hoping she would stop, would simply appreciate the fresh air and take time to think before fully giving in to whatever despair plagued her.
He could not pretend that he did not know what it was. She had loved that baby, despite her determination that she keep a careful distance from it.
While still some distance from water, she paused, leaning down to catch her breath. He was unsurprised by the taxation to her body. She was unused to running just as she was unaccustomed to this planet’s atmosphere.
He came to her side as she fought to catch her breath, and he placed a lone hand on her back, simply so she would not feel quite so alone. “She will be missed,” he acknowledged. And, in case she misconstrue his words as so often was her wont, he added, “By the both of us.”
Clairy ri
ghted herself, pressing at her face as tears turned cold and dried against her skin. “Really?”
He would not have said it if it was an untruth. “Yes,” he assured her. It was a burden begrudgingly accepted, but one that he had all the same. He could not say that he loved their squirming little rescue, not as he did Clairy. But he was fond of her. And it would be strange not to have her to watch and tend to, to not pour over far too inadequate suggestions for her care and upbringing.
He did not know what would fill their time, but if Clairy still wished to return home, he agreed with her decision to relinquish the baby to a more suitable home.
There was work to be done on her homeworld before it was safe for any additions that might come from their union.
It might not work, of course. He might not have been castrated, but that did not mean they had not taken other measures to ensure his sterility. But according to his research, children were often the result of a marriage, and although Clairy had not declared an outright desire for them...
He would not mind when she stated such an impulse.
And according to his reading, the begetting of them was a pleasurable endeavour. He had questioned that, most especially when reading of the mechanics, but he could not deny that he enjoyed when Clairy was close to him, that he relished the feel of her skin against his, so perhaps there was some modicum of truth to it.
“It was the right thing,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “I... I saw the way that woman looked at her. I know she’ll be loved there.” He could stand the distance no longer, and he pulled her close, her head easing against his chest as it always did.
“As you will be loved here,” Cydrin pledged to her, in case she needed to hear it again. The location mattered little, but as long as she allowed him to remain with her...
It would likely be filled with errors as he continued to learn what it meant to be her friend and eventual husband. But as long as she had the patience for it, he would endeavour to please her.
And, as she liked to remind him, she had never been a wife before either, so he would require plenty of patience of his own.
Designation 261 (The Wholeness Project) Page 30
