by Amy Thomson
“Thank you, Counselor Parker. Counselor Gheisar?”
Sohelia got up to speak. She approached the judge’s bench, turned, and stood looking at Juna for a long, thoughtful moment. Then she turned again and looked up at the judge.
“Your Honor,” she said, “our system of population control is inherently coercive. We must never forget this. We render almost every person on Earth infertile when they reach puberty. Each pregnancy must be approved by Population Control. Punishment for evading the law is harsh and absolute.
“And yet, despite this coercion, Population Control is successful. It even has widespread public support. If the Pop Con program did not enjoy this support, it would not work. There would be hundreds of millions of illegal pregnancies, and tens of millions of unauthorized babies.
“Why then, does Pop Con work? Why does it enjoy this wide support? The ecological and social devastation of the Slump convinced most of humanity that a drastic solution was necessary. But more importantly, Pop Con is viewed as harsh, but fair. A family that can afford more children can have them. A poor family can have one child and sell off the remaining fractional child-right to ensure a future for that child. The system is rarely abused, and when such abuse is discovered, punishment is severe and reparations to the injured parties are swift.
“But before the contraceptive vaccine was perfected, Pop Con made exceptions for contraceptive failure. Those regulations are still on the books, even if they have not been used in decades. Dr. Saari’s case is truly an accident, improbable as it may seem. If we treat this one accident as a crime, then will people view the Population Control system as fair? I don’t think so. How many illegal pregnancies will occur if people begin to rebel against the population regulations?
“But there is another reason for leniency. As you have seen, we have a great deal to gain from good relations with the Tendu. But in order to do that, we need to better understand them. Dr. Saari’s child may be an important bridge between the Tendu and humans. Humanity has little to lose and everything to gain from this experiment. A decision to terminate Dr. Saari’s pregnancy would also terminate this experiment in Human-Tendu relations.
“Can we afford to throw this chance away?” Sohelia asked. “Your Honor, I urge you to allow this accidental pregnancy, in the name of fairness and decency, and for the sake of the future of Human-Tendu relations. Thank you, Your Honor.”
“Court is adjourned until I have a verdict,” the judge said. “I hope to be ready sometime tomorrow.” She banged her gavel down, gathered her papers, and vanished into her chambers.
“Well, all that’s left is the waiting,” Sohelia said.
“Let’s go home,” Juna said. What she really wanted was to open a door and magically be back at her family’s house on Berry. She wanted the warmth and solidity and familiarity of home. Instead, she was going back to another one of the anonymous rooms she’d lived in for most of her adult life.
Toivo, Analin, and Dr. Engle were waiting for them outside the courtroom. They swept Juna and the others off to a private room in one of Snyder Station’s finest restaurants. The conversation was lively and the food excellent. Toivo praised the wine, flown up from France.
“I traded them three mixed cases of our reserve wines for this dinner,” Toivo confided. “I told them that you and the Tendu would autograph the labels after dessert.”
“Toivo, you’re awful!” Juna laughed.
“Will you do it?” he asked.
“Only if you’ll autograph them too,” she said. “You had more to do with making the wine than I did. Actually, hi is the person who should sign the labels. You just grow the grapes. He’s the artist who crafts the wine.”
Toivo sighed. “I know. I wish I had his gift for it.”
“Well, he’s only been doing it for fifty years. You’ll get better over time.” Juna sipped at her glass of water. “How is he doing?”
“Since you left, he’s been running around like a man half his age. I’d worry, but he looks so good.” Toivo glanced over at the Tendu. “I’ve been wondering if one of those two worked on him,” he confided in Amharic, his voice low. “When word of what those two can do gets out– ” Toivo shook his head. “Be careful, Juna.”
“We will be,” she assured him. “We’re keeping this stuff under wraps, and we have security escorts.”
“Still– ” he began.
Just then the manager of the restaurant came over and asked if he could take a picture of Juna and the Tendu, and the subject was dropped.
Juna lay down on the bed, exhausted. Toivo and the others had kept her too busy to think about the verdict, but now, alone in the dark, the buoyant mood of relief that had sustained her all through dinner had evaporated. She rested a sheltering hand on her rounded abdomen. What if the verdict went against her? How could she live without her daughter?
“Oh, little one,” she murmured into the darkness. She lay there, feeling tears stream from her eyes into her hair, and then trickle down onto the pillow. Finally she could remain silent no longer. She rolled over, buried her face in the pillow and keened into its muffling softness until there were no tears left in her body, and she fell into an exhausted doze.
She was dreaming that she was holding the baby. Her daughter had reached up a small brown starfish hand to touch her cheek. Juna woke to find Moki gently pushing a strand of hair away from her face.
She smiled sleepily up at her bami for a moment. Then she realized that today the judge would render a decision. She closed her eyes, and turned her face into the pillow.
“Siti, Sohelia just called. She’s on her way over with breakfast.”
“Mmm,” Juna murmured. She wanted to go back to sleep and wake up to find that this day was all a dream.
“Siti, you need to wake up,” Moki insisted.
“Mmmph,” Juna managed. “All right, bai.” She rolled over and opened her eyes.
“You were crying last night, siti. Can I help?”
Juna turned to look at him. “How did you know that, bai? You slept in Ukatonen’s room last night.”
“I could smell your tears when I came in. Please, siti, let me help.” He held his hands out for allu-a.
Juna pushed herself upright. “Okay, bai. Show me the baby. I– We may not have her anymore after today.”
For the last few weeks, whenever they linked, Moki would include the baby in the link. Juna could just barely sense the baby’s quiet presence, its metabolism ticking away like a fast watch. Recently, she had felt the baby responding to the link. It was nothing more than a vague flutter of sensation, but it happened consistently whenever she or Moki reached inward to sense the child.
Juna grasped Mold’s arms, and they linked. She felt him enfold her and reach for the baby. She felt the fluttering sensation of the baby. Juna reached deeper into the link, striving to get as close to the little one as possible.
To her surprise, she felt a faint tickle of awareness in response, a feather-brush against her own presence. Juna sent a gentle surge of warmth and love in reply. The baby responded with another, more focused brush of awareness that touched both Moki and Juna. Juna felt a surge of fierce happiness that carried all three of them soaring sweetly into harmony.
Juna clung to that precarious balance of happiness as long as she could. Then the baby began to tire, and the link was over. Juna opened her eyes, and began to weep.
“Siti, what’s the matter? What can I do?”
Juna just shook her head, unable to speak. Moki left, returning with Ukatonen.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“The baby, I– ” and she started crying again.
Just then the doorbell rang. Moki went to answer it, and came back with Sohelia.
“It’s the baby, isn’t it?” she said squatting beside the bed. “You’re afraid you’re going to lose the baby.”
Juna nodded, and took the handkerchief that Sohelia handed her.
“I won’t lie to you, Juna, it could happ
en. But you have a greater chance for keeping this child than any other client I’ve ever represented, and I’ve won a few of those cases as well.”
“Really?” Juna asked.
“Of course,” Sohelia reassured her. “Don’t give up hope until it’s ripped out of your hands. Now, put on a robe and come eat breakfast. You need to eat.”
Juna nodded and began to pull herself together. Breakfast helped make her feel a little less despairing. Moki had even managed to make her laugh a time or two by the time she’d finished eating. The comm rang as they were clearing the table. Moki answered it and handed it to Sohelia. Everyone stood watching as Sohelia listened.
“All right,” she said. “We’ll be there in forty-five minutes.” She put the comm down. “Judge Matthesen has her verdict.”
“Oh,” Juna said, her mood suddenly deflated. She returned to her room and got dressed, fighting back her fears and doubts.
Juna sat in the defendant’s chair and stared at the scratched plastic table, suppressing the urge to flee. She jumped like a startled cat when the clerk came in and announced the judge. She stood, eyes still anchored to the desk, unable to look up, afraid to hope.
“Please sit,” the judge said, arranging her black robes with magisterial grace as she settled into her chair.
“The purpose of this hearing is to decide whether or not criminal culpability was involved in this pregnancy, and to determine the future of the fetus involved. I find that there was no criminal intent in this pregnancy. It was an accidental pregnancy.”
Juna looked up from the table in amazement. Sohelia clutched her shoulder.
“However,” the judge added, and Juna felt her spirits catch in their soaring. “Due to the unconventional nature of Dr. Saari’s alien companions, I feel it is important that there are other human parents to counterbalance the influence of the Tendu. If Juna is not married by the time the child is four months old, she will have to give the child up for adoption. Congratulations, Dr. Saari, you get to have your child. Case dismissed.”
Juna looked around, stunned by the decision. It was hard for her to wrap her mind around the good news. Moki and Ukatonen’s skins were a riot of celebratory blues and greens.
“Congratulations, Juna,” Sohelia said. “You get to keep the baby.
“But– ” Juna said. “The marriage.”
“Juna, you won!” Sohelia said. “Worry about everything else tomorrow.”
“But who will marry me?” Juna said.
“It will work out, you’ll see,” Sohelia assured her. “There are many families who would love to have you.”
“And the Tendu as well?” Juna asked.
Sohelia’s dark eyes looked thoughtful for a moment. “The Tendu will make it harder, but you’ll find someone, I’m sure of it. But for now, let’s celebrate the victory we have rather than worrying about the next battle. At least your daughter will be born. You have over a year to worry about finding her a family.”
Juna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ve just gotten so used to worrying that it’s hard to stop.”
Analin came in. “Is it good news?”
“Yes,” Juna said.
“Hooray!” Analin cheered.
“But there’s a catch,” Juna added. “I have to be married by the time my daughter’s four months old, or give her up for adoption.”
“Don’t worry,” Analin reassured her. “It’ll happen. Are you ready to make a statement to the press?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about having to get married. It’s going to be hard enough without everyone in the world knowing about it.”
“I understand,” Analin told her. “I’ll set up a press conference in an hour, outside the courthouse. Your brother and Dr. Engle are waiting outside the courtroom for you.”
Juna headed for the door. “We won!” she announced when she saw Toivo and the doctor. “We won!”
“Juna that’s great news!” Dr. Engle said. He hugged her tightly.
Toivo pushed himself up out of his wheelchair to hug her. “I’m so glad, Juna!”
Juna felt tears of joy gather at the corner of her eyes. “So am I!” she said. “So am I!”
The press conference went well. Juna still had the sympathy of the press, and she was able to get away with a simple statement, and five minutes of questions about the baby. She dodged a couple of questions about her pending lawsuit against the Survey.
Then after a couple of light, fluffy questions about the baby’s name, and whether it was a boy or a girl, Juna brought the press conference to a close with a huge sense of relief. No one had asked her about their work at the hospital.
“They’re going to find out what the Tendu can do someday, Juna,” her brother remarked as they headed for a quiet lunch.
“I know,” she said, “but I’d rather keep people in the dark as long as possible. My life is going to be complicated enough just trying to find a family to marry.”
“You’ll find someone, Juna,” he told her. “I know you will.”
Juna shrugged.
“Seriously, keep me posted. If there’s anything I can do, I want to help.” Toivo’s dark, solemn face was intent. For a moment Juna saw their mother’s face reflected in his.
“Thank you, little brother. I’ll keep you posted.” She grinned. “You can come stand by my door and beat the suitors away with a stick when there are too many of them,” she said sardonically. “I’m sure there’ll be suitors lined up around the block, just waiting to marry a pregnant woman who lives with two aliens.”
“Come on, Juna,” Toivo said. “It’s not that bad. I’ll bet you get some great offers.”
“Maybe,” Juna said doubtfully.
“Give yourself a few days before you start worrying,” Toivo advised. “You’re starting at the hospital tomorrow, and that’s enough to worry about.”
“I know,” Juna said. “They didn’t seem to be too eager to see us when we stopped in the other day. I don’t think that they know what to do with us.”
Dr. Engle grinned wolfishly. “That’ll change once they understand the Tendu and their capabilities.”
“I hope so,” she said.
“It will be all right,” Ukatonen assured her. “They are healers. It should be easy to achieve harmony.”
“Yes, en, but they are also humans. They don’t understand you.”
“But they will, Eerin,” Ukatonen told her. “Moki and I will teach them, as we have taught others.”
“I hope so, en. I hope so.”
Six
Ukatonen followed Juna and the doctors as they showed him through the hospital. He had expected something like the sickbay on the Homa Darabi Maru: a few beds, mostly empty, with one or two injured people on their way to recovery. Instead they were walking past room after room full of sick and injured people.
The heavy sour scent of sick humans constricted his nostrils and caught in the back of his throat. He had to work to keep from breathing through his mouth. He’d never dreamed that there could be this many sick people in the world. It was the most horrific thing he had ever seen.
The humans could build bubbles of life in the emptiness of space. Their sky rafts could sail across the unimaginable distance between their world and his. And yet, they had places like these, full of illness and pain. How could they let this happen?
The farther they walked, the more horrified Ukatonen became. Finally, they stopped at a room full of beeping, blinking machines. In the midst of these machines lay a man. There were tubes and wires going into his nose, on his chest, and out of his arms, connecting the man to the machines. His hair was very white, and his skin was thin and wrinkled in the manner of old humans.
“He is dying,” one of the doctors told the Tendu. “Can you help him?”
“We will try,” Ukatonen said. The sick man’s skin felt dry and thin as paper. He smelled sour, like rising pika dough, and his hand lay limply in Ukatonen’s. Ukatonen glanc
ed at Moki, who had moved into position on the other side of the bed. They grasped the man’s arms, and linked with him.
The state of the man’s body was even more of a shock than the hospital had been. Ukatonen had never felt a creature so out of harmony with itself. The man’s body was a mass of out-of-control cells, his heartbeat was thready and thin, and his lungs were fillijig with fluid. There were deep internal scars where he had been cut open and organs had been removed.
Only the doctors’ machines and the medicines were keeping this human alive. The man was frightened and in pain; the sour, bitter tang of it pushed his body even further out of balance. It was appalling. Ukatonen enfolded the sick man’s presence, shutting out the pain, and easing the fear. He felt a sweet rush of gratitude and joy; then the man’s presence folded in on itself, and went away into death, leaving the shattered husk of his body behind.
Ukatonen gently eased out of the link, taking Moki with him.
“He is gone. You may shut off your machines now.”
One of the doctors examined the machines. He lifted the dead man’s eyelid and shone a light into his eye.
“His brain function has stopped. He’s dead,” the doctor reported. He reached over and shut off the machines. “Time of death, nine forty-five A.M.,” he reported somberly.
“You killed him!” one of the other doctors protested.
“He is in harmony now. Before– ” Ukatonen paused searching for words, “he did not want to live. Only his pain kept him tied here. I stopped the pain and the fear, and he left. Why did you not do this sooner?” he demanded. He could feel flickers of anger crossing his back.
Eerin touched Ukatonen’s arm to silence him. “Perhaps,” she suggested to the assembled doctors, “the Tendu should work on patients who are not at death’s door. There was nothing Ukatonen could do to heal this patient.”
She seemed angry, and Ukatonen lifted his ears in surprise.
Eerin began lecturing the doctors, telling them about what the Tendu did, and how they did it. Watching her talk to them, Ukatonen was reminded of her father soothing a skittish horse, and a ripple of amusement coursed down his back.
