Twin-Bred

by Karen A. Wyle

  “We have no reason to assume we know what they can do. But go on.”

  “So we’ll offer to help. We’ll ask them which problems they’d like to bring us in on —”

  “Which bones they’d like to throw.”

  “We have to try something! If the Twin-Bred do a good job on what the Tofa host mothers consider less important or less interesting or in any way less desirable problems, that’s a start.”

  “That doesn’t sound like hours of discussion. Did you talk about what would happen if all these ideas get nowhere?”

  “Yes, of course. Dar-tan asked if we would keep the Project going in any event, for scientific purposes. I had to say the odds of continued funding were not good. I wasn’t sure if I should, but I decided I had to tell them about my conversation with the Council Treasurer. . . .”

  Mara held on tight to the side of her desk, to keep as tight a grip on her temper. “Mr. Treasurer, you know the Project was in large part, even primarily, established for scientific purposes. Certainly we all hoped the Twin-Bred would have the capacity to take part in public affairs, but that was only speculation. What we knew was that there would be great and ongoing scientific returns on our investment.”

  The Treasurer smirked. "Yes, I seem to recall the Council emphasizing the scientific aspects of your mission, some years back -- only to meet with an intemperate response. . . . Dr. Cadell, with respect, you have had sixteen years of studying these Twin-Bred. I’m sure it will take years for scientists — yours and others — to absorb and analyze everything you’ve learned already. There is, among some on the Council, a sense that you have reached the point of diminishing returns.”

  “And what is the alternative? That all our Twin-Bred move into the local human and Tofa communities and start over? With what transition period, what resources?”

  “As for the Tofa youngsters, that would be up to the Tofa authorities. The humans — I’m not at all sure the nearby towns are ready for an influx of immigrants with such, ah, disturbing characteristics. And with no local support systems, no usable job training. . . .”

  “Where the hell does that leave them?” Don’t shout, she told herself, a little late. “I’m sorry, Mr. Treasurer. But I don’t see what you’re suggesting.”

  “Of course, nothing has been decided. But at least on an interim basis, they could remain at your facility, with some supervisory personnel. You have some small agricultural programs already in place, I believe — they could be expanded. We could find some other productive tasks for your young people to perform, to pay for their continued maintenance.”

  Mara held onto her composure long enough to invent an incoming call and get off the phone before she ran to the toilet and threw up.

  “Shall we call it a reservation? A concentration camp? A productive ghetto?”

  “Whatever you like. It means we’re running out of time.”

  “I doubt the entire Council has already embraced the treasurer’s particular brand of pragmatism.”

  “No, we still have a few members who will give us the benefit of the doubt, at least for a while longer. Some of them would like to see us succeed. And we’ll make sure they hear immediately about any good news.”

  “I believe you have more to tell me.”

  “Yes. I’ve been sneaking up on it. I don’t know quite how to talk about it.

  “If we can’t turn it around — if they can’t find a way to work with the new Tofa leadership and get back out into the communities — Artemesia was the one who suggested it. . . .”

  Artemesia raised her hand to speak. “We keep talking about having no future here. That’s here! Why are humans here in the first place? Because they didn’t like the future they had, back on Terra. So they went looking for one somewhere else! If nobody wants us here, except as slave labor, then let’s move on and find our own place! We have the skills. We may not have all the know-how, but we’ll find a way, if we have to. Let’s leave this planet to tear itself apart, or live under the Tofa host mothers, or whatever it’s going to do. Let’s leave!”

  “So the backup plan is an exodus.”

  “Yes. But first, we do our damnedest to reach the Tofa host mothers. To get them to listen.”

  Chapter 42

  Bon-tok and Tas-tan were reading together from the same screen: Stranger in a Strange Land. They finished at the same time. Bon-tok turned to Tas-tan. “How will we summarize this book for the group?”

  “We could say that it chronicles the journey of Valentine Michael Smith, a human raised on the planet Mars by that planet's indigenous sentient species. He returns to Earth as a young man and must try to learn the ways of his own people, while the humans who help him also learn from him about Martian beliefs and abilities. There is an informational site that describes the novel as exploring Mr. Smith's interaction with and eventual transformation of Earth culture.”

  “That is not necessarily accurate. At the book's conclusion, it is unclear whether Earth culture will be transformed, or even affected in any significant way.”

  Tas-tan buzzed softly. “And it might be as well to remember what befell Mr. Smith.”

  They sat contemplating his fate in silence.

  Mara and the rest of the senior Project staff had gathered in a large conference room with representatives from the human and Tofa twins and from the humans carried by Tofa host mothers. Mara spoke first.

  “We've tried to open a discussion with the Tofa host mothers, or with someone who admits to being able to contact them. We haven’t found anyone — cooperative. But we do have contacts in several cities who were sympathetic to our efforts in general. We could get some limited assistance from them in trying again. I’d like to hear ideas from any of you about how to do that.”

  Carla Horn gestured toward Ron Keller from the Tofa Relations department. “Ron and I have been talking about whether to send another team out, on some credible assignment, to one of the towns that’s had a visit from a host mother. Some opportunity for contact might arise. Of course, this would be on a strictly volunteer basis.”

  Peer-tek turned toward her. “And have all previous missions been compulsory? An interesting implication.”

  After an awkward silence, Bernie, one of the singletons, raised his hand to be recognized. “We’ve discussed the matter. This should be our job. They’re our mothers. Do we know which host mothers have shown up where?”

  Mara consulted her tablet. “The local council for Bovatown had a visit from a Tofa who may have been Ter Ra-tel-sen. Your host mother, Bernie. And Samantha — the first visitor, in Varley, was Ter Fen-sin-ta, who carried you.”

  “I wouldn’t count on any help from Varley,” said Carla. “The mayor’s fussed and bothered enough that he wouldn’t want to complicate his life any further. But the mayor of Bovatown might be interested. Before — earlier, we were talking about sending a team there. There have been some complaints from the Tofa community about the landscaping in the parks.”

  Bernie turned toward Nedra. “Your Tofar is better than most of our group’s.”

  Nedra looked embarrassed. “Maybe. And I’ve worked with Bernie on quite a few school projects. We don’t need much explanation to know what the other is thinking. We’d make a good team. I volunteer.”

  Mara looked at Bernie. “Are we jumping the gun here? Are you volunteering?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Anyone else?” Mara looked around the room.

  “I don’t think anyone else should come.” Nedra spoke very quietly. “We don’t know how dangerous this will be, but we’ve seen what can happen. We don’t know if our mothers can protect us. We don’t even know if they’ll know we’re there.” She stopped and bit her lip, then went on. “And we don’t know how they feel about us now — or how they ever did . . . .”

  There were no answers to those questions when the hovercar returned from Bovatown, empty except for the two bodies, both bearing neat projectile wounds to the head.

  At the next me
eting, the vote was not unanimous, but there were very few in the minority. Those few would not be compelled to take part, but they as well as the majority thought it likely that when the time came, they would all be on board. Literally and figuratively.

  The Twin-Bred were leaving.

  Chapter 43

  Mara stared levelly across the desk at Councilman Hanley. “You know this is the best way out for you and your colleagues. You’ve been handed a hot potato. We propose to take it off your hands, permanently. No unpleasant news stories about maintaining a compound of freaks at public expense. No scares about invasions of half-alien monsters. No political hay made out of keeping a lot of innocent young people locked up and used for forced labor. One major commitment of resources, and then no more, ever again. We aren’t asking for any sort of pensions or retirement bonuses for the Project staff.”

  “But you are asking for access to top secret archived material about, and artifacts from, the spacecraft that brought us here. Information your Twin-Bred will be using, for purposes we have to take on faith.”

  “We can accept remote monitoring of the areas where the ship and its components are being assembled.”

  Councilman Hanley studied his fingers. “This will take some thought, and some discussion. I see the advantages. As well as some political land mines.” He stood up. “I’ll get back to you.”

  Councilwoman Fuller took the call on her secured line. “Of course I’m glad to discuss this again, Mara, but do you really think we have anything new to say on the subject?”

  “Don’t think of this as lobbying, Councilwoman. Think of it as constituent service. You have quite a few voters out here.”

  Fuller raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure? I’m not certain all your busy scientists took the time to update their records last year, when the law required it. And even before then — I really don’t recall seeing any votes come in from your Project during the last election. Must be all that security you have in place — guess it blocked the transmission. A shame.”

  Mara took a deep breath, then another. She could feel Levi telling her to stay focused. “Thea. Apparently I need to clarify certain points. I am aware that you have succeeded in covering up the misadventure we discussed some years ago.”

  “You mean, I managed to frustrate your attempts at blackmail.”

  “If you will. But I don’t know why you seem to have expected me to — to abandon my interest in your activities since then. I’m sending you a scrambled file, and the key to decode it. You may be able to guess at some of its contents. The information is in safekeeping elsewhere. I believe you would find it difficult to find and eliminate all copies.”

  Fuller’s face was red. Mara recalled the saying “if looks could kill.”

  “If you insist on preventing our Twin-Bred from escaping the trap they’re in, then I suggest you look up the term ‘Pyrrhic victory.’ Councilwoman, if we’re going down, you will go before us.”

  The copter descended through the rain and touched down; the hum of its motors fell quiet. The men and women who emerged came cautiously, looking around, staying close together.

  Mara came forward, with a smile she had practiced in the mirror. “Welcome! Please, come this way. Thank you so much. I know you’ll find it exciting — and illuminating — to work with our budding young scientists and engineers. We are all so grateful for your help.”

  One gray-haired woman cleared her throat. “Well, it isn’t every day we get the chance to work on a spacecraft! And who knows when such a chance would come again.” She blushed. “And of course, we’re looking forward to meeting your — young people.”

  “This way, then.”

  Human Twin-Bred Gina sat absorbed in her tablet. Her boyfriend Tom came up behind her and tickled her neck. She shuddered. “Not now, Tommy.”

  “Sorry, love. What are you reading?”

  She showed him the text. “Rebirth. It’s an old book about some young people with telepathic abilities. They live among people who don’t understand, and think they’re — an abomination. Some of them are injured. The rest are running away, into the wilderness. But then they get a message from people far away, people like them. Right now, those telepaths are coming to take them away from the others.”

  Tom put a firm hand, this time, on her neck and massaged the tense muscles. He spoke gently. “Lucky them. It’s harder when nobody’s coming, isn’t it? When you have to rescue yourself.”

  She grabbed his hand and kissed it.

  Judy and Mara walked down the corridor to one of the empty classrooms. It was used for small seminars, rather than lectures or labs. There were writing desks with padded chairs, and tall standing desks, but these had been pushed aside.

  The four young Tofa turned toward them as they entered. Judy put an arm around Mara, who was trembling.

  “I don’t know what to say.” Mara looked from one tall figure to the other. “I’m not used to coming to people and — hoping for something from them. I don’t want any of you to feel that you have to do this. That you owe it to me, or anything of the sort. You don’t.”

  Li-sen came forward and took her hand. “What we owe is for us to say. And none of us is here unwillingly.”

  “I’m not looking for — for full contact, today. I was hoping you could tell me — if you could sense whether it would be possible, without actually doing it.”

  “Let us find out.”

  Li-sen let go her hand and returned to his fellows. They all stood in silence. Mara closed her eyes and leaned against Judy.

  Fel-lar was the first to speak. “Yes.”

  “Yes?? You mean — you think you could?”

  “He is, you would say, ready and waiting.”

  Peer-tek spoke next. “At your service.”

  Then, Li-sen. “Awaiting your pleasure.”

  Slow tears ran from Mara’s closed eyes. “Thank you. All of you. I just — I just wanted to know.”

  They did not speak of how little difference it would make, once the Twin-Bred were gone.

  “It may be hardest on the singletons. At least the twins will have each other, as they always have.”

  “Are they invited?”

  “Of course. The children have spent so much of their time together, twins and singletons. There are some solid friendships between the two. And now both groups have had casualties. No, the doubts aren’t on the twins’ end of things.”

  Melinda sat disconsolate in the empty classroom. Sinbad came in and sat down beside her; the two pressed close together as singletons often did.

  “A penny for your thoughts?”

  Melinda tried to smile. “How much was a penny, anyway?”

  “I doubt you were sitting here thinking about economics. What is it?”

  “What else could it be? I don’t know what to do.”

  Sinbad picked up a stylus and tossed it back and forth. “You don’t have to know yet. Not quite.”

  Melinda sighed, a deep, slow sigh. “We’re almost out of time. The final drawings for the ship will be made soon, and they have to know how big to make it! And besides — I have to know. Not knowing is worse than all the rest of it.”

  “What would you do, if you went back?” Toss, toss.

  “Dr. Horn says we should try to imagine it, both ways. Going along in the ship, or moving to some human town and starting over.” Melinda’s hands clenched into fists. “But they’re both so — unimaginable.”

  Sinbad dropped the stylus and took her hands. “Let me help. Close your eyes.” She obeyed. “Now think of yourself in a mess hall. Instead of the field outside, or buildings, there’s the black sky, and stars. And in the mess hall — there’s Bon-tok, juggling the cutlery again.”

  Melinda giggled, just a bit. “And Ruthie is tickling Jan-tel. And then he picks her up and dangles her upside down.”

  “Oh, no, not in the middle of lunch!”

  “All right. I see where this is heading. Home is where your friends are. But we can make new f
riends.”

  “Can we?”

  In the end, none chose to stay behind. Singleton or twin, they were all Twin-Bred, and they would seek their future together.