Out of the entire nine years she had waited, this half an hour was proving to be the longest. Even the busywork she had tried to create for herself among the engines had failed to occupy her mind. In the end, she merely sat and waited.
"Attention! Attention!" said the computer at long last. "Father Kendi has returned to the ship."
Harenn bolted from the bridge. She flew down the corridor to the airlock hatchway, veil fluttering in the breeze. In the entry bay, she skidded to a halt and covered the returning group in one swift glance. Kendi looked triumphant. Lucia wore her usual serene expression, though she was rubbing the small figure of Irfan she habitually wore around her neck. Ben was carrying Gretchen, whose face was pale with pain. And standing next to them, looking shy and uncertain, was a boy with dark hair and eyes. Harenn's breath caught. The resemblance to Isaac was so strong that if she had seen him at random on the street, she would have instantly recognized him as Isaac's son. Harenn tried to speak, but her throat closed up.
"Hi," the boy said to her.
"Bedj-ka?" she blurted.
"This is Jerry," Kendi said. "He says that's the name he's always had. Markovi only changed his last name."
Harenn found she couldn't move. Nine years she had dreamed of this moment, longed and yearned for it. Now it was here and she didn't know what to do.
"Ben, take Gretchen to medical," Kendi said. "We'll get her fixed up as soon as we can. Lucia, get to the bridge and get us the hell out of here before the cops show up."
The three of them left, leaving Harenn, Kendi, and Bedj-ka--Jerry?--alone. Kendi squatted, bringing his head down to Bedj-ka's level.
"Jerry," he said, "remember how I said there was someone on the ship who wanted to meet you?" At Bedj-ka's mystified nod, he continued, "Jerry, this is Harenn Mashib. She's your mother."
Harenn's throat thickened again. She wanted to sweep Bedj-ka into her arms and hold him close, but she still couldn't move.
"Mother?" Bedj-ka said, and for a moment Harenn thought he was talking to her. Then she realized he was only echoing Kendi. "She can't be my mother. My mother's dead."
Something broke and Harenn found she could speak. "Is that what they told you?" she said hoarsely. "That I was dead?"
"That's why we were slaves--all us kids at the Enclave," Bedj-ka said. "Our parents were dead, and the Enclave bought us and we had to pay them back by growing up and working in the Dream. Then that weird stuff happened and none of us could feel the Dream anymore, so they sold us. They said we were no longer blessed."
"I'm not dead," Harenn said. "You were taken from me and I've been looking for you ever--"
"Why are you wearing a veil?" Bedj-ka interrupted.
Harenn tore the veil from her face and flung it aside. Kendi looked startled--it was the first time she had ever unveiled in his presence. The ship rumbled slightly beneath Harenn's feet as the Poltergeist took off. Bedj-ka looked at her face and Harenn felt naked. She could feel the tears standing in her eyes.
"What did you call me? Bed-kee?"
"Bedj-ka," Harenn said. She squatted in front of him. "It was the name I gave you when you were born."
"Where was I born?"
"On a planet called Bellerophon in a place called Treetown. It is a city built among trees that are so tall you cannot see the tops from the ground."
"Why didn't you come and get me before now?"
"I did not know where you were." The questions came rapid-fire, and they made Harenn feel like she was kneeling in some kind of strange dream. "I looked and I searched, but I couldn't find you. Until now."
"I'll leave you two alone," Kendi put in, rising. "Harenn, as soon as you feel up to it, I need you to go down to medical and look at Gretchen. Her foot was broken getting Jer--Bedj-ka out of Sunnytree." And he left.
"That was rigid!" Bedj-ka said. "The gates slammed shut behind the van and I thought they had chopped Gretchen's foot off but it was only broken and Lucia was great the way she got my shackles off even though she couldn't see because it was dark in the crate, but they didn't tell me the bomb in the shackles was a major problem until after it was all over. Are you really my mom?"
The sudden flood of words put Harenn off-balance and it took her a moment to realize Bedj-ka had asked her a question. "Yes," she said.
"I always wondered what my mom was like and so did the other kids I guess, but none of us thought we'd ever get to find out because they told us our parents were all dead, or at least that's what Matron told us. She was really strict but I think she liked us, though Ned hated her because she always punished him whenever he mouthed off to her or called her names. I could tell she was upset when Patron said that we'd all have to be sold now that we'd lost our Silent blessings and couldn't touch the Dream. Where's my dad?"
"Your father?" Harenn temporized. It was the one question she hadn't been sure how to answer. Harenn's knees were getting tired from squatting in front of Bedj-ka, so she simply sat on the floor of the entry bay. Bedj-ka sat next to her, a stream of chatter pouring from his mouth. Harenn noticed he mostly stared straight ahead at the wall opposite them, though every so often he stole a glance at her face. Harenn wanted to put her veil back on, hide behind it. It had become a part of her after so long and going without it was like appearing in public in her underwear. But she left the veil on the floor where she had dropped it.
"I have a dad, don't I?" Bedj-ka was saying. "Everyone has to have a dad. Is he dead then? Is that why you don't want to say?"
Harenn settled on the truth. He would find out eventually, anyway. "Your father's name is Isaac Todd. He was . . . he was the person who sold you into slavery when you were a baby."
"That's what happened to Ginny. She was the only one of us who knew something about her parents, but they sold her, though she didn't say why and I think she used to cry about it at night a lot. I could hear her because when we were real little they let all of us sleep in one big room but when we got older they put the boys and the girls in separate rooms. I thought it was really stupid but Matron said those were the rules. Was my dad mad at me? Was that why he sold me?"
"Your father was . . . a very sick man, Bedj-ka," Harenn said slowly. "He valued money more than human life. You were a beautiful baby who brought me joy in every moment, and I was devastated when Isaac took you from me. If I had known what he was going to do, I would have destroyed suns and planets to stop him." Every fiber in her ached to snatch this child into her arms, but she didn't know how he would respond, didn't want to frighten him. That was one of her great fears--that he would reject her or show anger at her. Hesitantly, with slow, trembling movements, she put one arm across his shoulders. The boy continued chattering.
"The only place I remember is the Enclave and Matron and Patron and the other kids. I didn't like being a slave, especially when I saw other kids who belonged to free parents who could go wherever they wanted and do whatever they wanted, but Matron told us we were Silent and that meant we were blessed and that we had to be protected so we could learn how to go into the Dream and do stuff in there for the Enclave. Matron told us stories about slaves who were beaten or starved or sold away from their families and she said we were lucky to be in the Enclave, but then they sold us anyway and I ended up at Sunnytree Farm and it was really hard work and I was scared of some of the other slaves there because they would look at me funny when I getting undressed every night but then that Gretchen lady came and I'd heard stories about the Children of Irfan so I knew it would be okay to go with her and now you're my mom? I've always wanted a mom. Besides Matron, I mean."
A jumble of emotions piled up inside Harenn. Apparently Bedj-ka hadn't been abused, had been with people who had taken good care of him, and the Children had taken him out of slavery before anyone had done anything terrible to him. For this she supposed she should be grateful. Instead she felt cheated. She had missed seeing him walk for the first time, say his first words, attend his first day of school. The tears that had been building in her eyes sudden
ly spilled over. Bedj-ka noticed them.
"Why are you sad?" he asked with sudden apprehension. "Did I make you cry? Don't send me back to the farm, I promise I won't make you cry again, I really promise."
This time Harenn gave in to her impulse and, for the first time in nine years, hugged her son tightly to her. "I would never, ever send you away, Bedj-ka," she whispered fiercely in his ear. "No matter what."
She held him for a moment longer, then released him and stood up. "Now I should go down to medical and see to Gretchen's foot. Come with me?"
"Are you a doctor?" Bedj-ka asked, getting to his feet. "I always wondered what my mom and dad were like and what they did for a living but I never thought about anyone being a doctor."
"I am not a doctor, but I am an experienced nurse and medical technician, so I can perform many straightforward procedures, including healing fractured bones. I am also the engineer for this ship."
"An engineer? Rigid!"
They were halfway down to the medical bay before Harenn remembered she had left her veil on the floor.
Kendi entered the quarters he shared with Ben and flung himself down on the sofa. The living room was dimly lit. With the Poltergeist in slipspace, the windows were darkened to block out the nauseating view of swirling, clashing colors. Ben sat cross-legged on the other end of the couch holding a black, star-shaped piece of computer equipment the size of a basketball.
"All life, what a day," Kendi said. "I'm wiped and wired at the same time. How's Gretchen?"
"Complaining as usual," Ben replied. "I suppose that's a good sign. Harenn cleaned her up, put her foot in a heal-splint, and gave her some painkillers. The heal-splint has an anti-grav unit on it so she can walk, but it'll take a week or so for the bone to heal completely."
"How are she and Bedj-ka doing?"
"They seem to be getting along okay, but I'm willing to bet they're both feeling overwhelmed."
"I know the feeling." Kendi rubbed his face.
Ben set the piece of equipment aside to run a hand down Kendi's arm, and Kendi scooted over so he could lean against him. Ben always felt so reassuringly solid, something he could cling to when the rest of the universe seemed to wash up and down like an angry ocean.
"When do we get to Drim?" Ben asked, draping an arm down over Kendi's shoulder and resting his hand on Kendi's stomach. He smelled like soap.
"Lucia says three days and two hours," Kendi said. "We spent three days getting Bedj-ka back, so that'll leave us with seven weeks and one day before we have to return the ship to the Children. Bellerophon is a week away from Drim, though, so we actually have only six weeks and a day to look for my family."
"Lucia's flying the ship right now?"
Kendi nodded. "I asked her if she wanted to drop out of slipspace once we were a safe distance from Klimkinnar and get some rest--she looked kind of tired--but she said she was good to go as long as you can relieve in her in a few hours. I can take over from you, and then we can get back to a more regular pilot schedule until we arrive." He puffed out his cheeks. "Then I should double-check our fake credentials, pop into the Dream long enough to make sure Sunnytree or L.L. Venus haven't decided to spend the money to set up an inter-planetary squawk using what few Silent can still get into the Dream, and--all life, how did Ara handle all this without going over the edge?"
Ben laughed, and the vibrations thrummed pleasantly in Kendi's back and chest. "You wanted this job. Keep saying that to yourself. You're doing pretty good, though. I haven't seen any problems on board."
"Yeah, well, this is an easy group to command."
"Even Gretchen?"
Kendi paused. "Okay, you've got me there."
Another laugh. Then they sat in silence for a while. Kendi drank in Ben's solid presence and decided that he'd be perfectly happy if he never got up from the couch again.
"Seriously, though," Ben said at last, "how are you holding up? About going to Drim, I mean."
"Honestly? I don't know. I made myself concentrate on getting Bedj-ka back for Harenn so I wouldn't think about my own family or how much time it might take to look for them. Sejal said two of them are on Drim, but I don't know which two. Mom and Dad? Martina and Utang? Mom and Martina? I have no idea and if I think about it too long, I want to run screaming up and down the hallways. Bad for crew morale."
"Aren't you worried it'll be another false lead?"
Kendi shook his head. "Sejal was right about Bedj-ka. I'm sure he's right about this. That's one thing I've never questioned." He sat up and gestured at the piece of equipment Ben had set on the end table. "What is that thing, anyway?"
"You don't recognize it?" Ben picked it up. Green lights winked quietly, and a flat screen said All systems operating within normal parameters.
"Nope. Looks old, though. Something you're refurbishing?"
"You might say that." Ben fell silent and stared down at his hands. Kendi recognized the signs. Ben had something important he wanted to say, but he was having a hard time forming the words. Kendi knew from experience that pushing was the wrong route to take, so he waited quietly, though he burned with curiosity. What could be so important about a junky old piece of computer equipment? Finally, after a long pause, Ben spoke again.
"We talked about having kids one day, remember?"
"Sure," Kendi said, a little surprised. "Adoption. Or one of us could hook up with a woman who'd be willing to donate eggs. Or we could order a cut-and-splice from a lab, have a kid that was biologically both of ours. But those two options would be pretty expensive, not in the least because we'd have to find a surrogate mother. Artificial wombs are fine for most people, but we're both Silent--"
"--and Silent babies die in artificial wombs," Ben said. "I know. There's another way." He held up the black star. "This way."
"What do you mean?"
"You know where I came from, right? Mom's team found a derelict ship that had been cleaned out, probably by pirates. But they missed something."
Realization dawned. "That's the cryo-unit Ara found?"
"Yeah." Ben's voice was low and husky.
"All life, Ben--how did you get it? I thought Ara gave it to Grandfather Melthine once she--oh."
"Yeah. After Grandfather Melthine died, I helped go through his things and it was still there. I sort of . . . kept it."
"All life," Kendi said again. "Let me see." Ben handed it to him and Kendi turned it over in his hands. The surface was smooth and cool, with tiny controls and switches in the center of the star near the viewscreen.
"The other eleven embryos are still alive," Ben said. "All Silent. There were twelve when Mom found it, and it was right at about the time she was wanting kids in a bad way. She had her doctor thaw one out at random and implant it. If the doctor had grabbed a different embryo, I'd still be in that thing."
"And I'd be a hell of a lonely guy," Kendi added, to which Ben gave a small smile. Kendi reached over and brushed red hair off Ben's forehead. "You want to raise one or two of these as our kids."
"I've known about them all my life," Ben said. "I always kind of thought of them as my brothers and sisters. When I was little I used to pretend they were just asleep. Eventually they'd wake up and I'd have someone to play with besides my stupid cousins." He took the cryo-unit back and held it up. "I want to take them out. All eleven of them."
A pang went through Kendi's stomach and his eyes widened. "Eleven kids? All at once?"
"No!" Ben laughed again. "One or maybe two at a time. We'll have to find surrogate mothers, but I'm sure we'll find someone. I was an only child, Kendi. Mom tried to set things up so my cousins would be a brother and sister to me, but they treated me like shit my whole life because I wasn't Silent--or everyone thought I wasn't. I've always thought about how wonderful it would be to have a big family, a whole houseful of people who didn't care if you were Silent or not."
"I loved you before you were Silent," Kendi said, putting an arm around Ben's shoulders. "So did your mom."
Anot
her small smile. "I still want a big family."
"I knew that, but--eleven kids," Kendi said. "All life!"
"What . . . what do you think?" Ben asked.
Kendi took his arm back and chewed on a thumbnail without looking at Ben. He knew that if he looked into those blue eyes he would say "Let's do it," and damn the consequences. A year ago he would have said it anyway. The Despair and Ara's death, however, had made him more cautious. Kendi wanted children, he knew that. But eleven of them! How would they support so many? Would it be fair to the individual kids to have such a large group, spread parental love and resources that far? Ben would make a great father, Kendi was sure, but Kendi had doubts about his own parenting abilities. Was he old enough? Wise enough? Smart enough? Imagine having almost a dozen children all looking to him for help and advice and discipline and love. How would he manage all that, even with Ben there?
"I don't know," he said at last.
Ben drew away. "Okay."
"No, Ben." Kendi reached over, grabbed Ben's hand. "Ben, I love you more than anyone in the universe. I love you so much that sometimes it hurts. I would do anything to make you happy--anything--because if you're not happy, I'm not happy. That's why I can't answer you right now. I'm scared that I'd be saying let's do it because you want it and not because we both want it. I need time to think. I'm not saying no. I just can't say yes yet."
Ben seemed to consider. "All right," he said at last. "I can accept that. It's a big decision. And these little guys aren't going anywhere."
"Do you know anything about where they came from?"
"Not a clue. I only know that they're all Silent and they're all healthy. And we--all twelve of us--share enough DNA to make us brothers and sisters. Originally there were eighty-seven embryos, but only eleven--twelve, counting me--are still viable. The readout says they were put into this cryo-unit thirty-odd years ago, but that's not necessarily when the embryos themselves were . . . created."
"Shouldn't you get a newer cryo-unit?" Kendi said, suddenly worried.
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