Lost in Transcription Page 4

  Namjikil’s face split into a huge grin. There was a rapid exchange with Ledikjin, who said, “Namjikil is well now, though my friend still has headaches. The children are safe and back in the settlement. Our clan wishes to thank you, and thank your ancestors for the blessing of your existence.”

  Cosi smiled at me. “We often feel the same about Pax.”

  “Okay, don’t embarrass me,” I said. I didn’t tend to blush, but my face was a little warm.

  Namjikil stood, glanced at Ledikjin, and walked to me. “Namjikil wishes you to have a gift,” Ledikjin explained.

  So I extended my hand, and Namjikil put something into it, folding a hand over my own, then bending and kissing the back of my hand.

  I looked at the object, a crudely shaped pendant, made of the same translucent dull white stone as Namjikil wore on a leather thong.

  “This is an ancestor stone,” Ledikjin said. “The Kanimil place great value on these stones. They are the most precious possessions of the clan. It is unheard of for someone outside the clan to wear one. So, you are now part of the clan.”

  I blinked. “Uh. Wow. Thank you. Thank you, Namjikil.” I bowed my head at my friend, who smiled.

  “Put it on,” Cosi urged, and not waiting for me to do it, stood and took the pendant, placing the thong around my neck. “Fetching.”

  “The Kanimil believe these bring luck and fortune to the clan,” Ledikjin said.

  “You don’t believe that?” I asked.

  “I am not of the Kanimil. I am mixed race, a Gavnir. I am half-Kanimil.”

  “My friend,” Namjikil said, pointing to Ledikjin. “We trust.”

  “There are only two hundred or so of us,” Ledikjin said. “We choose not to live with the clans, but the miners aren’t comfortable with ‘natives’. We trade with both, but live apart. Mostly. Namjikil’s family is kin to many of us, and we have good relations with that settlement. We sell some of their artefacts, share seed, breeding stock and so on. It’s mutually beneficial.”

  Despite Namjikil’s warm affection, Ledikjin was warier—of the clans, of us, of me. I knew how difficult it was to straddle two worlds, being largely unwelcome in both. “I’m grateful to you both for taking the time to visit.”

  “You saved a number of children, Pilot Pax, including one of the Gavnir, and put your life in danger to do so. You did more than any miner ever did for us or Namjikil’s clan. For this, you have a permanent call on our help.”

  “Thank you. I’m fine though, unless you know of a cheap apartment for rent.”

  I was only joking, so I didn’t expect my words to spark another rapid exchange between the two of them. “You need somewhere to live?” Ledikjin asked.

  “Yeah, once Cosi and Binen leave. It’s no big drama. There’s always the spacer hotel—”

  Ledikjin held up a hand. “I know of a room where you could stay, in the Gavnir settlement. In my house.”

  “Uh, are you sure? I’m kind of big, and I have this thing.” I thumped the exowalker.

  Intelligent blue eyes challenged me. “We have enough space, if a Gavnir home is good enough.”

  “Are you kidding? If you’re serious, yes, I’d love that. Cosi?”

  “I’d sure be happier if you were with people, Pax. The idea of you being on your own has been a worry for Binen and me.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t realised.

  “And if the Federation comes through with the medical expenses, you’ll have other options if you need them.”

  “I guess.”

  And so a week later, after an emotional farewell to my friends and our ship, I drove to Ledikjin’s sprawling, ramshackle house twenty klicks from the edge of Lepaute City. The Gavnir settlement was a mix of small farms and workshops on a road which ran between Namjikil’s settlement seventy klicks to the east, and the city. There was no public transport system, but Binen and Cosi had insisted I hang onto the smaller of the Aslam’s two rovers until their return. That helped a lot.

  As I drove up, Ledikjin came out to meet me, and helped me from the rover. The house looked old but solid, and merged with the landscape in a way I found appealing after the steel and glass of Lepaute City. Broad-leafed trees grew down the sides, and in front of the porch, bright yellow flowers bloomed in tidy beds. To the side, a ramp. So I wasn’t the first disabled person to stay here.

  “Welcome, friend Pax.”

  “Thank you, Ledikjin. This is a beautiful place.”

  “It is our home. A home should be beautiful, don’t you think?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, it should.”

  After guiding me into the house, and introducing me to Saro, Ledikjin’s partner, Ledikjin helped me put my small pile of clothes into an ornate wooden chest of drawers in the corner of the little room I’d been assigned. “I hope this will be comfortable for you, Pax.”

  “It’s lovely. But you should let me pay rent.”

  “You saved a Gavnir child. That is more than enough.”

  “I didn’t even know one of your kids was there.”

  “Unimportant.” Ledikjin raised a hand as I started to protest. “Once you’re able, you’ll be expected to do chores as much as you can manage. And your rover could be useful, if you will allow it.”

  “Of course I don’t want to be a burden.”

  Ledikjin smiled. “You’re not, friend Pax. Now, come and meet the rest of our family.”

  I had never lived on a farm, nor ever I had any period of disability lasting more than a couple of days. I had also not spent any time with a family unit of more than three in my whole life, so Ledikjin, Ledikjin’s partner Saro, and their three children were more people than I had interacted with since flight school. Their kindness meant I coped far better with the experience than I could have hoped for.

  In the beginning of our arrangement, I was much more burden than help to them and to their community. I had to go for treatment every couple of days, and my mobility was limited by my control of the exowalker. Kids loved to ride in the rover, to look at the exowalker, and to marvel at the colour of my skin, which none of them had ever seen on a human. They invited me to ride in the carts which Gavnir of all ages used for transport and haulage, pulled by sturdy cargomals—genetically engineered strong mammals which the Second Wavers had introduced to the planet, equally useful for heavy hauling and protein production. The kids thought it was hilarious to see big blue Pax trying to get comfortable in one of the lightweight carts. So I did that as often as possible. I loved to see the children laughing.

  I missed Byrd.

  To my surprise, I really enjoyed being around a lot of people, and not everyone in the galaxy found me weird. I discovered that not everyone in the galaxy saw my blue skin and fierce features and looked no further. I wondered if I had changed, that the military conditioning had finally worn off, or whether the Gavnir were just unusually accepting. I didn’t know.

  I gradually became more confident with the exowalker, and could walk almost normally in it. Surgery was over for now, and the wounds healed, so while I waited for the next round, my main task was to keep up with the physical therapy. That wasn’t hard for me after so many years of monitoring my fitness and muscle strength in space. And that left me more time and more ability for chores. Saro assigned me to their hydroponic gardens since I had experience with those. Finally I made a contribution, however small, to a community which had welcomed me without question.

  When I had been on the farm for a month, Saro came to the hydroponics nursery to find me. “Pax, you have a visitor.”

  “Namjikil?” I hadn’t seen my friend since that day in the apartment.

  “No. Come to the house?”

  I cleaned up and followed Saro back over to the farmhouse. A vehicle with a rental label was parked outside. A miner? I didn’t know anyone else on this planet.

  The house was beautifully cool after the nursery. In the kitchen, an off-worlder rose and smiled at me. “You must be Pax. I’m Kushida Dibin.”

  I shook h
ands, and we all sat, Saro positioned rather protectively of me. The family was certain I was in danger because I had upset the miners, but I had never felt any concern along those lines. I worried more for them, harbouring me.

  “So, what can I do for you, Dibin?”

  “I’m visiting out of pure curiosity, actually. I work for the Federation as a rare people’s advisor.”

  “The chromatomorph kid? Um, ‘Wahkit’?”

  Saro and Dibin winced. “That’s a filthy name for a child, Pax,” Saro explained. “It means ‘little hole’.”

  I remembered the puggle telling me, and I wanted to be sick. “I’m sorry—”

  “It’s okay,” Dibin said. “We’re using ‘Shajn’ for the child now, since we have no records and no one can identify the child or the family. I’m here to monitor Shajn’s care.”

  “Shouldn’t you be trying to find the family?”

  “Oh, we are. The problem is that no one’s reported a missing child. At the moment, the best theory is that someone stole an embryo, though why, where and how, we have no idea.”

  A small anguished sound came from my right. Saro stood, expression twisted. “Excuse me.”

  Saro’s departure left a gaping silence. I couldn’t make myself look at our visitor.

  “Uh, did I say something wrong?” Dibin finally asked.

  “Child kidnapping’s a bit of a sore subject at the moment,” I said, trying not to snarl at the memories Dibin’s words had aroused. “You still haven’t explained why you want to talk to me.”

  “It’s Shajn’s fault. You made quite the impact, and when I heard about a great big blue saviour, my interest was piqued. Then I looked you up.” Dibin’s expression sobered. “I had to jump through some hoops to get past the restrictions placed on your records.”

  “You didn’t think of asking me for permission first?”

  “Um. It’s my job, Pax. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  I heard Saro out on the porch, rocking in the chair. The rhythm spoke of distress. Saro needed comforting.

  “Excuse me,” I said, and went outside.

  Unable to crouch, I stood above Saro and waited. Wordlessly my friend rose and let me give the needed hug. “I wish I didn’t believe people could be so vile, but look where you found that child.”

  “I know,” I said. “Dibin’s looking at it objectively and doesn’t realise the effect talking about it could have.”

  “I know. I just needed to get away. Go back in.”

  “In a minute.”

  It took more than a minute before I felt Saro was okay. And at that point, Dibin put a head out the door. “I’m sorry. Should I leave?”

  “No. But let’s walk. Saro, I adjusted the nutrient drip on the new tank, but I can’t remember if I changed the timer.”

  “I’ll check. Go, go.”

  Dibin and I walked towards the grain fields. I waved to Ledikjin, who was busy feeding stock. The kids were helping, and they waved back, grinning and calling my name. “You’re popular,” Dibin said.

  “I’m a novelty. Why do you want to talk to me?”

  “To be blunt, because you’re much rarer than Shajn. How much do you know about the program that produced you?”

  “Not much. Once I left it, I lost my security clearance. Before that, I didn’t know that I was any different from other cadets. We were all studying to join the academy, all enhanced by our training. Or so we thought.”

  “All adoptees?”

  My stomach clenched. “I didn’t know that at the time. I didn’t know I was adopted until...until my parents told me I was independent and asked me to leave.”

  “At eighteen.”

  “Yes. I used my financial settlement to put myself through flight school. I never saw my parents again.”

  Dibin fell silent. The only sounds were the kids shouting in the fields, the soft whirring of the exowalker’s servos. In my head, I was back in my parents’ home, listening to my world fall apart. I had just been told I wasn’t suitable for the academy program all my friends were entering. My physical parameters were just short of requirement, and that was that.

  My parents already knew when I told them. That was when I learned that I wasn’t their biological child as I’d believed, and that in fact I wasn’t even technically adopted, but only fostered. I was a ward of the state, officially. Or I had been until I’d turned eighteen.

  “I was a scientific experiment,” I said. “We all were.”

  “A highly illegal one. You didn’t know that?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t hear any more after I left. Asking questions about that kind of thing at school wasn’t encouraged. I guessed some of it, but never had it confirmed. I only knew I’d been sterilised at puberty because of the law, and that there aren’t many like me around.”

  “Fewer than a hundred, in fact. Your foster parents were part of the scientific research team. That entire team was prosecuted, and permanently forbidden from taking part in any research involving human subjects. You were supposed to become genetically created super soldiers, even though the Federation had banned that kind of research from its very beginning.”

  “I shouldn’t exist.” I stared out to the fields. At my Gavnir friends, the kids, working, chatting, laughing in the clear sunshine. All so very normal and ordinary and beautiful. I was just a frecking freak. Always had been.

  “No. But yet you do, and you’re very special, Pax. I’d like to take some DNA—”

  “No.” I turned. “No, not now, not ever. I’m done being experimented on.”

  “I just wanted.... Okay. I won’t force you. I can’t, but I wouldn't anyway. Aren’t you curious at all?”

  “I already know enough about my body. I’m stronger, faster, quicker to heal, and have extraordinarily sharp senses.”

  “But you don’t know where you came from.”

  I threw up my hands in frustration. “A test-tube. What more do I need to know? I have no parents, no family. No one claims me through genetics. And that’s how I want it to stay.”

  I must have put on my fierce face because Dibin moved back a little, as if frightened. “Calm down.”

  I forced myself to relax. “Sorry. It’s....”

  “A sore subject. Yes. Can I mention something more pleasant?”

  “Please.”

  “Shajn wants to see you again. Would you like that?”

  The strain in my face immediately eased into a smile. “Of course. Who’s caring for the kiddo?”

  Dibin made a face. “The Child Services team, but they’re small and not really designed for this kind of thing. There are relatively few children in the city population, which is highly transient. Foster parents are difficult to find, but the care centre isn’t a place for someone as...unique as Shajn. Certainly not one that damaged. It could be months, even years, before we find an original family.”

  “I—” I stopped. I had no business making free with my friends’ hospitality.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I was going to offer to take Shajn, but I’m living here as a guest.”

  “Ah. Why not talk to them about it?”

  “I’ve never cared for a child on my own.” But already I saw in my mind’s eye another happy child running through the fields in front of us, laughing in the clean air. A child loved and treated as they ought to be, not shrinking from perverted strangers in a brothel bedroom.

  “That doesn’t matter. You’d have lots of support from the Child Services team, and from us. Financial too. I’m desperate to get the child out of that group situation. I’m a psychologist, among other things, and I can work with Shajn, but the care centre isn’t the right environment. From what I’ve learned of your background, you could be very good for each other.”

  “I’m not fit. Physically, I mean.”

  Dibin shrugged. “Talk to your friends. Almost anything would be better than what we have now. You’d have to be vetted and pass a psychological fitness test, but I think you’d
be fine.”

  Ledikjin and Saro were enthusiastic about bringing Shajn into their home. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the response of such warm, generous people, so very patient with the damaged, like me.

  “It’s only until they find Shajn’s family,” I warned. “And I plan to go back into space.” Though Dibin said there probably was no family, and it was up to me what happened in a year’s time.

  “Don’t try to predict the future,” Saro said, patting my hand. “The little one needs a protector. A trusted person. You can be that. The rest is just detail. We have plenty of room, and one more child won’t be a burden.”

  Knowing I would have the backup of people with such excellent parenting skills, and that I could call on support from the city and from the Federation, I let Dibin know that I was willing to try, and that the vetting process could begin. Dibin thought it would be complete in a couple of weeks. In the meantime I had more surgery to endure, but I should be healed in time to bring Shajn back to the farm.

  Ledikjin and Saro’s family—in fact the whole Gavnir settlement—threw themselves into preparing a new home for our ‘wanderer’, which is what ‘Shajn’ meant in a local dialect. A small room at the back of the house was doubled in size without any fuss and in astoundingly little time, then decorated brightly and filled with the kinds of things a seven-year-old child might like. Shajn couldn’t read or write, much to Dibin’s disgust, but the settlement had its own small school, and I had no doubt a band of willing young helpers would teach the fosterling the basics in no time at all.

  I threw myself into the refurbishing, and my height proved useful while painting. The children found watching me at it much more fun than their chores, which led to some parental complaints, but to me, the sound of giggling and chatter infused the very fabric of the room with happiness. I hoped Shajn would feel it when we moved the puggle in.

  Once we all passed our vetting, my next and most important tasks were to have my new kidney implanted, and then heal up and be physically ready for my foster child. Dibin still had not brought Shajn and me together as yet, wanting to wait until I was fit again. For my part, I could barely sleep for excitement and worry. Such an enormous undertaking, and yet I had flown back and forth across the galaxy and taken risks that many might consider ridiculous.