by Rinelle Grey
*****
TYRIS FOLLOWED MARLEE BACK TO the house, needing a moment to clear his head. It had all happened so quickly. His lips still felt warm from her kiss, and his heart still thumped like crazy. His whole body ached with the need to take Marlee into bed and make love to her thoroughly.
But he couldn’t.
He’d seen the passion in her eyes and felt in her kiss. There was something between them, something he didn’t even want to examine right now. But it was tied up in the villager’s weird ideas, and he didn’t like the association. Even though everything she’d done indicated that she wanted this as much as he did, she’d grown up with so many rules around relationships and sex, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that there was still some idea of the obligation in the back of her mind.
But even if he had been certain she wasn’t feeling pressured, even if he believed she truly wanted him, wanted to take the risk of loving someone again, he couldn’t give her what she needed. He couldn’t give her a child. Not while he still had the contraceptive implant in his arm.
So when they were alone in the warmth of Marlee’s house, instead of taking her into his arms and letting passion lead, he kept his distance, and said quietly, “We should talk about this.”
Marlee’s shoulders slumped. He couldn’t blame her. Talking was the last thing on his mind too.
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice wavering. “If the council is changing the rules on us….”
“Has anyone asked for proof of a relationship before?” he asked
Marlee shook her head. “No, not that I know of. I guess they think this is different. People just assume that a couple is sleeping together when they move into the same house. But that wasn’t why you moved in here.”
Tyris nodded. “Do you think we convinced them?”
Marlee blushed. “I think so, yes.” Tyris hoped he wasn’t blushing as well. The thought of kissing her out in the snowstorm warmed more than his face. He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s something I guess. But even if we did, we might not have as long as you thought.”
“No.” Marlee heaved a sigh. “I can’t believe they would do this.” Tiredness filled her voice, and her face.
The urge to take her into his arms and kiss her distress away was strong, but he curbed it. “How long will they keep pressuring somebody?” Tyris asked. “I mean, after you’ve been through enough relationships, surely the council is willing to accept that someone is infertile and let them choose their own lives?”
Marlee winced at the word infertile, and Tyris cursed his thoughtless comment. She had to be afraid of the possibility even though she never spoke of it.
“I don’t know,” she said. “We haven’t gotten to that point yet. Most of the original refugees each had at least a couple of children, and most of those children are still young enough that they haven’t tried more than a couple of times. Except Beren I guess.”
“Beren?” It took a few moments for Tyris to put the name with a face. A young man around his age, with sandy hair in tight curls. He always seemed to be laughing or smiling, and he always seemed to have a group around him. “What happened?” he asked.
“Beren was ten when we arrived here,” Marlee explained. “There weren’t too many other women around his age, which meant he was a little older when he had his first partner. He’s had five now, none of which have resulted in a child, though one woman has gone on to have a child afterwards. His last relationship ended a year ago, but no one is willing to take the risk anymore,” Marlee said sadly.
“So why can’t he be with anyone he wants?” Tyris asked. Perhaps, if he told the council that he couldn’t have children, he could opt out of this strange deal they had going.
Marlee stared at him, and he knew he’d missed something. “Technically, I suppose, except there isn’t anyone else who is exempt from the rules. Maybe we’ll get to that point, but it’s a few years off yet.”
So he could opt out, but it would mean leaving Marlee. He couldn’t face that possibility. He couldn’t imagine having to watch her with another man—ever. The stricken look on Marlee’s face as she had looked at Nelor with another woman haunted him.
“Who was that with Nelor tonight?” he asked.
He tried not to be jealous of the fact that she still cared about Nelor. Nerris might say she didn’t love him, but he wasn’t convinced, meaning he couldn’t discount the idea that her sudden affection for him wasn’t fuelled by a desire to convince someone—herself, her family, Nelor—that she had moved on too.
Marlee busied herself with checking the fire, even though they hadn’t been gone long enough for it to have died down. “Brenda,” she said, her voice muffled.
“But why is she single, she already has kids? Did they split her up from the dad anyway?” It didn’t make any sense, but then again, nothing around here did.
Apparently this was a safer topic. Marlee stepped away from the fire and sat down in the chair. Tyris took a seat opposite her.
“No, if a couple has a baby, they don’t get split up, no one has yet anyway. Brenda’s partner, the kids’ dad, died about six months ago,” Marlee said. “He cut himself with an axe. Karla did everything she could, but it got infected and…” she trailed off.
Tyris didn’t need to hear more. A serious infection without access to antibiotics could easily be fatal. And a slow, distressing death. “So now he’s gone, the pressure is on again?”
Marlee shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Perhaps it would’ve come, but not yet. She’s kept to herself for quite a while. I was surprised to see her tonight.”
She jumped up again and fiddled with the fire, feeding small sticks into it though it was burning merrily.
“Are you okay?”
Marlee shrugged, without turning around. “I’ll survive.”
Tyris knelt down next to her, and despite his earlier plans to keep his distance, he took her hands in his. “I didn’t ask if you’d survive, I asked if you were okay.”
She smiled wanly, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “I didn’t expect it, that’s all. I hope he’ll be happy with her. He’ll love playing with her kids. I always knew he’d be a great dad.” Her voice broke on the last sentence.
Tyris wasn’t sure if her grief was for losing Nelor or sadness that she might never have children herself. Did it really matter? He couldn’t help her with either.
Wordlessly he pulled her into his arms and patted her back. She held him tightly for a few moments. Then she pulled back, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and asked, “Do you want something to eat?”
Tyris nodded. He sat by the fire and let her distract herself with the familiar tasks, preparing scones to go into the oven and making them both a cup of tea. It was only when she sat opposite him, tea in hand, that he braved the topic he couldn’t leave unsaid.
“What do you think about your mother’s warning? Does it change our plans at all?”
Marlee stared into the fire, sipping her tea. Tyris wasn’t fooled into thinking she hadn’t heard his question. She was considering it, considering all the possibilities, the same ones that had been playing on his mind since her mother’s comments.
Finally, she looked over at him. “You mean, am I considering giving in and trying for a baby?”
Tyris swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”
What would he do if she said yes? How would she react when he told her he couldn’t have kids? Chances are she’d throw him out. What use was he in a world where having a baby meant so much?
Marlee stared at him for a moment, and it felt like she was looking into his soul. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat.
Then she shook her head. “No, this changes nothing. It’s going to be hard enough when the council declares this over. If I start to hope that it might not have to be, then it will be unbearable. I don’t want to do that again.”
Tyris nodded, trying not to let the relief he felt show on his face. “We continue as we are then,
” he said.
Marlee nodded and stared into the fire again.
Tyris watched the flickering flames too, staring through them, trying not to imagine walking into the hall holding Marlee’s hand—with their own child in his arms.
MARLEE WALKED QUICKLY TO THE barn, eager to get out of the cold. Inside, the body heat from the animals crowded into the stall warmed the area considerably. She called quietly to Benati, and the goat nuzzled her hand.
She whistled as she began to milk. Even after their resolution to continue as they had been, it felt different. Marlee’s face warmed at the thought of Tyris’s kiss. How could they pretend nothing had changed?
The only thing holding them back was her fear. Could she let it go? Could she find a way to hope again after all the disappointment?
Could she let Tyris go without even trying to make it work?
Marlee squirted the last of the milk into the bucket, no closer to a solution. But she wasn’t upset. The answer would come to her when the time was right.
As she straightened her back, something made a noise behind her. She ushered the goat back into her pen. Putting down the bucket of milk, she looked around the barn. Noise greeted her on all sides. Sheep bleated, chickens clucked, animals moved around the barn. She tried to filter them out, listening for a sound that did not belong here.
There it was again. A soft sob. Marlee crossed to the bales of hay and peered behind them.
Jaimma sat with her back against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest, her face red from crying. When she saw Marlee, she burst into tears.
Marlee knelt in the hay beside her friend, and put her arms around her. “What’s wrong?”
“I… I’m not pregnant,” Jaimma sobbed.
“Oh, Jaimma.” Marlee hugged her more tightly. “Does Jaidin know?”
“Not yet,” Jaimma’s voice was muffled. “I don’t know how to tell him. I really thought I was this time. I was two days late.”
Marlee didn’t know what to say. She wanted to do something to make it better, but she couldn’t. Nothing could make it better. So she just held her friend, patting her back while she cried out her frustration.
“How much longer do you have?” she asked, when Jaimma’s tears slowed.
Her question started Jaimma crying again. Marlee leaned close to hear her voice through her sobs. “One more try.”
“Well, it’s not over yet then.” Marlee forced her voice to sound bracing. “You and Jaidin will just have to try harder next time.”
The words felt false. She didn’t really believe that next time would be any better for her friend. But what else could she say? Hope was all any of them had.
Jaimma sniffled and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her nose. “Well, trying harder is always fun I guess,” she said. Her voice didn’t match her words, but Marlee didn’t comment on it. Jaimma gave her a hug, and Marlee helped her to her feet.
“Thanks, Mar,” Jaimma said.
“Any time. If you need to chat, you know where I am.”
Jaimma smiled, even though tears still glistened in her eyes. “I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel. I heard all about your display in the village hall the other night.” She winked.
Marlee felt her face heat, remembering Tyris’s kiss. Jaimma giggled. Marlee was too happy to hear her friend laugh to be upset though. “I bet everyone heard about it.”
Jaimma grinned. “Oh yeah. And anyone who hadn’t, I made it my business to tell. Nobody expected you would be the one shocking all the elders.”
Marlee’s face grew even hotter. “Jaimma!”
Her friend’s expression softened. “I’m glad you’re happy, Marlee. You deserve it. And I hope that it pays off. I can’t wait to see you with a huge belly.” Her voice broke on the last word.
Marlee stepped towards her to give her another hug and to hide her own tears. “I reckon you’re going to have that big belly before me,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.
“I hope we get to do it together,” Jaimma said. She gave Marlee one more squeeze then stepped back. “I’d better go home and tell Jaidin.” She sniffed.
Marlee watched her walk off, her good mood from earlier quickly evaporating. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to have a baby, even with Tyris. And without a baby, she’d be alone again in eighteen months.
It wasn’t worth it. Better to keep her distance and just enjoy being Tyris’s friend. It would make it easier to move on when the time came.
She headed home, looking forward to seeing Tyris, though she tried to deny it. But when she stepped in the door, she couldn’t see him anywhere. “Tyris?” she called out as she put the milk on the table.
But there was no answer. It took her only a few moments to search the house, but Tyris wasn’t anywhere to be found.
*****
TYRIS SHIVERED AS HE KNOCKED on Karla’s door. The snowstorm had blown itself out, and the sky was clear and blue. It only served to make things colder. He stared at the closed door. What was he doing here? He nearly turned around and went home, but just at that moment, the door opened.
Karla let him in without questions, not saying anything until he was sitting by the fire with a cup of tea in his hands. “What can I do for you, Tyris?”
Tyris blushed. He had rehearsed the best way to ask his questions on the way over here, but now all the carefully planned phrases deserted him. “Um, I was wondering if… well…”
Karla correctly interpreted his mumbles. “You want to know how long it will take you to be affected by the anysogen.”
“Yes,” Tyris admitted.
“Well, it’s hard to say for sure. I don’t have access to any of the fancy medical equipment they have on the Colonies, and the effects of anysogen infertility were only just beginning to be studied when we left Semala. However, based on the fact that it took three to four years for the couples who came here to show signs of infertility, my guess is you have about that long.”
Tyris breathed a sigh of relief. Longer than he thought. If he’d known the answer would be so positive, he’d have asked earlier. A couple of years gave him plenty of time to weigh up his options.
That wasn’t all he wanted to know though. “What about Marlee?” he asked.
“That’s a little more complicated,” Karla admitted. “The short answer though, is that she has a higher chance with you.”
Tyris frowned. “But why? She’s had three partners already, if she still isn’t pregnant, is it likely she ever will be?” He wanted to believe it was possible, but it seemed so unlikely.
“They could all have been infertile themselves,” Karla pointed out. “None of the three have had children with anyone else either. The truth though, is that it’s not that simple. While the anysogen seems to have rendered some people completely infertile, that’s not the case with everyone.”
“It isn’t?” Tyris raised an eyebrow. “How can someone be partly infertile?”
“Quite easily actually. Radiation, for example, damages sperm or eggs, but not all of them. It may take longer to conceive, but it isn’t impossible.”
“Why all the fuss about changing partners then?” Tyris asked. “If time is the issue, why not just give couples more time?”
“Anysogen infertility isn’t caused by radiation,” Karla said. “We discovered, before the asteroid hit Semala, that when the gas is breathed in it seems to have an effect, not on the sperm or egg, but on the mucus they’re surrounded by. This fluid is designed to enhance conception in normal people, but exposure to anysogen seems to make it inhospitable.”
Tyris’s brow furrowed in a frown. “I still don’t understand,” he said. He should have paid more attention in biology class. “What does this have to do with changing partners?”
“I’m still not completely sure, but what we’ve observed is that some pairings seem to have little trouble producing offspring, while others are unable to, even if both adults have produced offspring in other parings. It seems to have something to do
with compatibility on some chemical level.”
He definitely should have paid more attention in biology. But how could he have known it would be so important? “How did you work all this out?” Tyris asked. “The generation of people who born here on the planet are only just hitting the age to have children.”
“Humans are not the only animals on this planet struggling with conception, nor the only ones we desperately need to reproduce,” Karla said wryly. “We brought only female animals with us on the voyage and artificially inseminated them on arrival to produce our first generation. Like the humans, they had no trouble with fertility in the first few years, but then they were affected as well. When natural methods began to fail, we tried artificial insemination again. We had little success, until we began inseminating the females with the sperm from many different males. This increased their chances of conceiving.”
“So why not just mix it up?” he asked, “and do it artificially for humans too?” It would hardly be any less ethical than what they were doing now.
“We considered it,” Karla admitted. “But inbreeding is a real concern. With such a low gene pool, we’ll have the problem eventually of course, but at least with the current method we can record the bloodlines and reduce it to some extent.”
This was all a little over his head. “So what does all this mean for Marlee and me?” he asked. “If she’s affected, then won’t our chance of having a baby be lowered anyway, regardless of my own fertility?”
Karla nodded. “Lowered, yes, but since only one side is affected, they are still higher than they will be with anyone else.”
“So what sort of chance are we looking at in the eighteen months we’ve been allotted? Is it really likely?” He watched Karla’s expression carefully, looking for any signs that she knew of the councils plans to cut their time. But if she knew, she didn’t show it. He hoped he hadn’t given too much away, coming here and asking so many questions.
“It is hard to put a number on it,” she said. “Nothing is certain in this life, but if you don’t try, you’ll never know, will you?”
