The rhu'ad murmured, “Yes. She nearly died too, you know. Your Terrans are—” she used a word which did not appear in Megaerean dictionaries “—but she did not forget you. I have done a fearful thing, so you must promise not to tell anyone that I've been here. I brought a damper into the building and hypnotized all the nurses on this floor. I've got to leave before they wake up. But you will get well now."
Beth pleaded, “Why is this secrecy so necessary? Why can't you just tell them what you've done? I know they didn't think I'd live, the fact that I feel better should be enough proof!"
“They would try to make me tell them, and then they would not believe me. After they see your baby, they will believe it. Then we will tell them."
Beth asked her, “Who are you?"
The rhu'ad smiled faintly and mentioned the name of one of the most important men of Megaera. Her eyes twinkled at Beth's astonishment. “They sent me rather than an unknown—in the event I am found here, your Terrans might hesitate to cause an international incident. But just the same I don't intend to let them see me.” “But what was the matter with me?"
“You developed an allergy to the baby. Alien tissue—blood types that didn't mix—but you'll be all right now. I haven't time to explain it,” the rhu'ad finished impatiently and turned, without another word, and hurried out of the room.
Beth felt free and light, her body in comfort, without a trace of sickness or pain. She lay back on her pillows, smiling, feeling the faint stir and quickening of the child within her, then adjusted the smile to the proper angle as a nurse—one of Dr. Bonner's hard-faced old Darkovan assistants—tiptoed in, her face sheepish, and peered round the corner of the screen. Beth had to force back a spontaneous laugh at the change which came over the old lady's face as she gasped, “Oh—Mrs. Ferguson—you—you do look better this morning, don't you? I—I—I think Dr. Bonner had better have a look at you—” and she turned and actually ran out of the cubicle.
* * * *
“But what did they do to you? Surely you must know what they did to you,” Dr. Bonner protested tiredly for the hundredth time. “Just tell me what you remember. Even if it doesn't make sense to you."
Beth felt sorry for the old man's puzzlement. It couldn't be pleasant for him, to admit he'd failed. She said gently, “I've told you everything.” She paused, trying to put it into words he could accept; she had tried to tell him about the manner in which Cassiana's physical presence had soothed her, but he had shrugged it off angrily as delirium.
“This place where they took you. Where was it?"
“I don't know. Cassiana blindfolded me.” She paused again. From prolonged mental contact with Cassiana, she had come from the kail’ rhu'ad with a subdued sense of having taken part in a religious ritual, but it meant nothing to her as religion, and she could only give incoherent scraps of her impressions. “A big domed room—and a room full of machines—” at his request, she described the machines in as much detail as she could remember, but he shook his head. Trying to help, she ventured, “Cassiana called one of them a telepathic damper—"
“Are you sure? Those things are made on Darkover, and their export is generally discouraged—even the Darkovans won't talk about them very much. The other thing could have been a Howell C-5 Electro-psychometer. It must have been a special hopped-up model, though, if it could put your cell waves into phase with a telepath's!” His eyes were thoughtful. “I wonder what they did that for? It must have hurt like hell!"
“Oh, no!” Beth tried to explain just how it had felt, but he only shrugged and looked dissatisfied again. “When I examined you,” he told her, and glanced sidewise at Matt, “I found an incision, about four inches long, in the upper right groin. It was almost healed over, and they d pulled it together with a cosmetic lacquer—even under a magnifying glass, it was hard to see."
Beth said, struggling for a dim memory, “Just as I was going under the anesthetic, one of the rhu'ad said something. It must have been a technical term, because I didn't understand it. Aghmara kedulhi varrha. Does that mean anything to you. Dr. Bonner?"
The man's white head moved slightly. “The words mean, placenta graft. Placenta graft,” he repeated, slowly. “Are you absolutely certain those were the words?"
“Positive."
“But that doesn't make sense, Mrs. Ferguson. Even a partial detachment of the human placenta would have caused miscarriage."
“I definitely haven't miscarried!” Beth laughed, patting her swollen body.
The old man smiled with her. “Thank God for that!” he said sincerely. But his voice was troubled. “I wish I was sure of those words."
Beth hesitated, “Maybe it was—Aghmarda kedulhiarra va?"
Bonner shook his head, almost Smiling. “Kedulhi—placenta—is bad enough,” he said. “Kedulhiarra—who ever heard of grafting a baby? No, you must have had it right the first time, I guess. Maybe they grafted, subcutaneously, some kind of placental tissue from a Centaurian. That would even explain the allergy. Possibly, Mrs. Jeth-san acted as the donor?"
“Then why did she have the allergy too?” Beth asked. Dr. Bonner's heavy shoulders lifted and dropped. “God knows. All I can say is that you're a lucky, lucky girl, Mrs. Ferguson.” He looked at her in unconcealed wonder, then turned to Matt. “You might as well take your wife home. Legate. She's perfectly all right. I've never seen a Terran woman look so healthy on Megaera. But stay close to home,” he advised her. “I'll come over and have a look at you now and then. There must be some reason why the Centaurians go into seclusion. We'll try it with you—no sense in taking chances."
But Beth's sickness did not return. Contentedly secluded in the Residence, as snugly celled as a bee in her hive, she made tranquil preparations for the birth of her child. Nature has a sort of anesthesia for the pregnant woman; it smoothed Beth's faint disquiet about Cassiana. Matt was tender with her, refusing to discuss his work, but Beth detected lines of strain in his face and voice, and after a month of this she asked him pointblank, “Is something wrong, Matt?"
Matt hesitated—then exploded. “Everything's gone wrong! Your friend Cassiana has really messed us up properly with Rai Jeth-san! I'd counted on his cooperation, but now—” he gave a despondent shrug. “He just says, in that damned effeminate voice of his,” Matt's husky baritone rose to a thin mocking echo of the Archon's accent, “peaceful settlement is what we want. Terran colonists with their wives and children we will accept, but on Megaera we will not accept floods of unmarried and unattached personnel to disturb the balance of our civilization.” Matt made a furious gesture. “He knows Terrans can't bring their women here! The hell with this place, Betty—space station and all! They can blow the planet into the Milky Way, for all I care! As soon as Junior is born, and you're clear for space, I'm going to throw this job right in the Empire's face! I'll take a secretaryship somewhere—we'll probably have to go out on the fringe of the Galaxy—but at least I've got you!” He bent down to kiss his wife. “It serves me right for bringing you here in the first place!"
Beth hugged him, but she said in a distressed tone, “Matt, Cassiana saved my life! I simply can't believe that she'd turn the Archon against you. We don't deserve what Cassiana did for me—the Empire's been treating Megaera like a piece of lost-and-found property!"
Matt laughed, guilty. “Are you going in for politics?"
Beth said hotly, “You have authority to make recommendations, don't you? Why not, once, just once, do what's fair, instead of what the diplomatic manual recommends? You know that if you resign now, Terra will close out the Legation here, and put Megaera under martial law as a slave state! I know, the official term is protectorate satellite, but it means the same thing! Why don't you make a formal recommendation that Megaera be given dominion status, as an independent, affiliated government?"
Matt began, “To achieve that distinction, a planet has to make some important contribution to Galactic Civilization—"
“Oh, comet dust!” Beth snapped. “The fac
t of their survival proves that their science is ahead of ours!"
Matt said dubiously, “The Empire might agree to an independent buffer state in this end of the Galaxy. But they've been hostile to the Empire—"
“They sent a petition to Terra, six hundred years ago,” Beth said quietly. “Their women died by thousands while the petition was being pigeonholed. I think they'd die all over again before they asked anything of Terra. It's Terra's turn to offer something. The Empire owes them something! Independence and affiliation—"
“Cassiana's certainly got you sold on Megaeran politics,” Matt said sourly.
“Politics be damned!” Beth said with such heat that her husband stared. “Can't you see what it means, idiot—what Cassiana did? It proves that Terran women can come here in safety! It means that we can send colonists here for peaceful settlement! Can't you see, you half-wit, that's the opening Rai Jeth-san was leaving for you? Cassiana's proved a concession on their side—it's up to Terra to make the next move!"
Matt stared at her in blank surprise. “I hadn't thought of it that way. But, honey, I believe you're right! I'll put through the recommendation, anyway. The planet's almost a dead loss now, things couldn't be worse. We've nothing to lose—and we might gain a good deal."
* * * *
Beth's baby was born at the Residence—the Medical HQ did not have maternity ward facilities, and Dr. Bonner thought Beth would be more comfortable at home—on the first day of the brief Megaeran winter. She came, alert and awake, out of a brief induced sleep, and asked the usual questions.
“It's a girl.” Dr. Bonner's lined old face looked tired and almost angry. “A little over three pounds, in this gravity. Try to rest, Mrs. Ferguson."
“But is she—is she all right?” Beth caught weakly at his hand. “Please tell me—please, please let me see her—"
“She's—she's—” the old doctor stumbled over a word, and Beth saw him blink hard. “She's—we're giving her oxygen. She's perfectly all right, it's just a precaution. Go to sleep, like a good girl. You can see her when you wake up.” Abruptly, he turned his back and walked away.
Beth struggled against the lassitude that forced her head back. “Dr. Bonner—please—” she called after him weakly. The nurse bent over and there was the sharp prick of a needle in her arm. “Go to sleep, now, Mrs. Ferguson. Your baby's all right. Can't you hear her squalling?"
Beth sobbed, “What's the matter with him? Is there something wrong with my baby?” The nurse could not hold her back. Before her fierce maternity the old woman hesitated, then turned and crossed the room. “All right, I guess one look won't hurt you. You'll sleep better if you've seen her.” She picked up something and came back to the bed. Beth reached out hungrily, and after a minute, smiling faintly, the Darkovan woman put the baby down on the bed beside Beth.
“Here. You can hold her for a minute. The men don't understand, do they?"
Beth smiled happily, folding back the square of blanket that lay lapped over the small face. Then her mouth fell open and she uttered a sharp cry.
“This isn't my baby! It's not—she isn't, you don't—” her eyes blurred with panicky tears. Rebelliously, scared, she looked down in terror at the baby she held.
The infant was not red or wrinkled. The smooth soft new skin was white—a shining, lustrous, pearly white. The tight-screwed eyes were a slatey silver, and a pallid, gilt-colored down already curled faintly on the little round head.
Perfect. Healthy. But—a rhu'ad.
The nurse dived for the baby as Beth fainted.
* * * *
It was nearly a month before Beth was strong enough to get up during the day. Shock had played vicious havoc to her nerves, and she was very ill indeed. Her mind acquiesced, and she loved her small perfect daughter, but the unconscious conflict forced itself inward, and took revenge on every nerve of her body. The experience had left a hidden wound, too raw to touch. She sheltered herself behind her weakness.
The baby—over Matt's protest, Beth had insisted on calling the child Cassy—was more than a month old when one afternoon her Centaurian servant came into her room and announced, “The Archon's wife has come to visit you, Mrs. Legate Furr-ga-soon.” Beth had forced the memory so deep that she only thought that Nethle or Wilidh had come to pay a formal call. She sighed and stood up, sliding her bare feet into scuffs, and padding across to her dressing panel. She twisted buttons, playing out lengths of billowing nylene to cover her short indoor chemise, and slid her head into the crusher which automatically attended to her short hair. “I'll go up. Take Cassy down to the nursery, will you?
The Centaurian girl murmured, “She has her baby—with her."
Beth stared in stupefaction. No wonder the servant girl had seemed thunderstruck. A baby outside its own home, on Megaera?
“Bring her down here, then—” she directed. But that did not dull her surprise when a familiar, lightly moving form shrouded in pale robes, ghosted into the room.
“Cassiana!” she said tremulously.
The rhu'ad smiled at her affectionately as they clasped hands. Then suddenly Beth threw her arms around Cassiana and broke down in a tempest of stormy crying. “Don't, don't—” Cassiana pleaded, but it was useless. All the suppressed fear and shock had broken loose at once, and Cassiana held her, awkwardly, as if unused to this kind of emotion, trying to comfort, finally bursting into tears herself. When she could speak again steadily, she said, “Can you believe me, Beth, if I say I know how you are feeling? Look, you must try to pull yourself together, I have promised I'd explain to you—"
She freed herself gently, and from the servant's arms she took a bundle, carefully shielded in tough, transparent plastic, with double handles for carrying. She opened the package carefully and from the depths of this ingenious cradle she lifted a wrapped baby, held it out and put it into Beth's arms.
“This is my little boy—"
Beth finally raised her eyes to Cassiana, who was standing, fascinated, by Cassy's crib. “He—he—he looks like—” Beth faltered, and Cassiana nodded. “That's right. He is a Terran child. But he's mine. Rather—he's ours.” Her earnest eyes rested on the other in something like appeal. “I promised to explain—Dhe mhari, Bet', don't start to cry again..."
* * * *
“We rhu'ad would probably have been killed, anywhere except on Megaera,” Cassiana began, a few minutes later, when they had settled down together on a cushioned divan, the babies snuggled down in pillows between them. “Here, we saved the colony. Originally, I think, we were a cosmic ray mutation. We were part of the normal population then. We hadn't adapted quite so far.” She paused. “Do you know what Genetic Drift is? In an isolated population, hereditary characteristics just drift away from normal. I mean—suppose a colony had, to begin with, half blonde people, and half brunette. In a normal society, it would stay distributed like that—about 50-50 percent. But in one generation, just by chance, it might vary as far as 60-40. In the next generation, it could go back to normal, or—the balance once having been changed—it could keep drifting, and there would be 70 percent of blondes and only 30 percent of brunettes. That's oversimplified, of course, but if that keeps up for eight or ten generations, with natural selection working hard too, you get a distinct racial type. We had two directions of drifting, because we had the normal population, and—we had the rhu'ad. Our normal women were dying—more in every generation. The rhu'ad could have children safely, but somehow, we had to preserve the normal type."
She picked up Cassy and snuggled her close. “Did you name her for me, then?” she asked. “Well—I started to explain. A rhu'ad is human, and perfectly normal, except—they will find it out about Cassy some day—we have, in addition to our other organs, a third ovary. And this third ovary is parthenogenetic—self reproducing. We could have perfectly, human, normally sexed children, either male or female, who would breed true to the normal human type. They were even normally susceptible to the poisonous reaction in this air. These normal children w
ere carried, in the normal way, except that a rhu'ad mother was immune to the hormone reaction, and could protect a normal child. Or, a rhu'ad woman could, from the third ovary, at her own will—we have control over all our reflexes, including conception—have a rhu'ad, female child. Any rhu'ad can reproduce, duplicate herself, without male fertilization. I never had a father. No rhu'ad does."
“Is Cassy—"
Cassiana paid no attention to the interruption. “But the mutation is female. While the normal women were dying, and only the rhu'ad could have children—even these children died when they grew up—we were afraid that in three or four generations we would end with an all-female, parthenogenetic, all-rhu'ad society. No one wanted that. Least of all the rhu'ads themselves.” She paused. “We have all the instincts of normal women. I can have a child without male fertilization,” she looked searchingly at Beth, “but that does not change the fact that I—I love my husband and I want his children—like any other woman. Perhaps more—being telepathic. That's an emotional problem, too. We have done our part for Megaera, but we—we want to be women. Not sexless freaks!"
She paused again, then continued, evidently searching for words. “The rhu'ad are almost completely adaptable. We tried implanting rhu'ad gametes—ova—from our normal ovaries, into normal women. It didn't work, so finally they evolved the system we have today. A rhu'ad becomes pregnant in the normal way—” for the first time Beth saw her blush slightly, “and carries her child for two, maybe three months. By that time, the unborn child builds up a temporary immunity against the toxins released by the hormone allergy. Then they transfer this two-month embryo into the host mother's womb. The immunity lasts long enough that the baby can be carried to full term, and birthed. Then, of course, there's no more danger at all, for a male child—or, for a female child, no more danger until she grows up and herself becomes pregnant.
Centaurus Changling Page 5
