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  By now, the hospital held no fears for me, although I couldn’t wear the exowalker as an inpatient, so I was confined to bed with all the indignities that meant. The surgery itself went swiftly and well, as expected for such a minor procedure, and once my body had demonstrated the plumbing was both connected and working, I was done for a couple of months. I slept the day away after the operation, so naturally when night fell, I couldn’t sleep. The hospital was as quiet as such places tended to be, which was not much at all.

  I realised I’d left my earplugs back on the farm, along with my Glimma. I used it so rarely now, I’d forgotten all about it.

  Oh well. I stared up at the ceiling and counted the dots in the pattern, hoping to bore myself to sleep.

  The problem was my superior hearing. I was on a shared ward, but on my own for this night at least. But in a room some way down the corridor, someone was dying. And someone else was grieving for the loss of a partner far too young. Neither made much sound, but I could hear every strained breath, every sob. I felt as if I was an intruder, for all they wouldn’t know I existed.

  Then the final breath, the quiet rattle of air leaving the throat for the last time. A medic whispered the words the grieving survivor dreaded, and the sobbing grew more intense, though no louder. The misery made my own throat close up in sympathetic sorrow.

  I stared at the ceiling again, wondering if I could borrow some earplugs from the staff.

  Were the spots on the ceiling fading? I strained, certain there was nothing wrong with my sight, but something was occluding the pattern....

  I jerked as the mist overlaying the pattern came towards me, twisting and growing in the dull light from the corridor. Was it some alien? Was I dreaming, hallucinating? Was this the symptom of some dread side-effect from the surgery?

  I waited, sure that if it was some delusion, it would disappear now I was wide awake and giving it my full attention. But it didn’t change or fade for some five minutes, during which time I could see it clearly, but it made no move towards me, or towards the door.

  Then it disappeared abruptly, like a light going off. The ceiling was clear and sharp to my good night vision, with nothing obscuring it.

  And then all I could heard was the quiet sobbing from down the hall.

  ~~~~~

  I decided not to tell anyone. The vision didn’t return, and I felt perfectly normal the next morning, having finally slept for a few hours. Nothing looked wrong or different. My sight was fine, all my senses working perfectly. I dismissed it as a mild reaction to the drugs I’d been given during surgery, and put it out of my mind. The second night passed without incident, and since I’d borrowed some earplugs, I slept without interruption.

  Dibin came to find me before discharge, just as I had eased back into the exowalker, relishing being upright once more. “You look surprisingly well for someone who’s just had an entire organ shoved into your body.”

  “It’s connected, it’s working, it’s over. Can I see Shajn now?”

  “Yes, you can, if you’re ready...uh, okay.” My glare only won another grin. “In your rover?”

  The vehicle wouldn’t move fast enough for my liking. Dibin made some joking remarks about my driving, but knew not to tease too much. The care centre was in a sterile metal building with bureaucracy built into its very existence. I couldn’t keep the disdain off my face as we entered the elevator.

  “I know how you feel,” Dibin said.

  “I doubt it. You’re sure Shajn is expecting me?”

  “I didn’t give a day or time, but yes. You’re all the child has talked about for weeks.”

  “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Dibin regarded me seriously. “I agree. We’ll never know how bad the brothel really was.”

  The care centre was actually one floor of interconnected apartments. There were just six residents, and as many staff. Shajn was the youngest child there by at least five years. The apartment we entered was pleasant enough, clean and airy, but lacking in anything that you could call ‘friendly’. It reminded me, painfully, of my childhood home. But then it too had been simply a bureaucratic necessity.

  A door to my left opened, and an adult entered, leading Shajn by the hand. The kiddo, face rippling pink and white, looked at me, and then looked at the adult, who nodded.

  “Hey, puggle,” I said, my voice tight with emotion.

  I put my arms out, and Shajn ran to me. I couldn’t kneel, but I could bend, and lift, and hug. “Oh, puggle, you look wonderful.”

  “Blue,” my new child said, touching my face. Patches of midnight blue, the same shade as my skin, bloomed and pulsed on Shajn’s face. Would I learn what that meant? I wanted to know so badly. “Mine?”

  “Yours. All yours. Dibin? Please say I can go home with Shajn?”

  “Yes, you can. We were just waiting to see if you were up to it.”

  “Shajn, do you want to come home with me?” I asked.

  “Yes. Go home now. We go to Pax’s home now.”

  I couldn’t stop smiling, and the puggle wouldn't let go of me, so Dibin didn’t have a chance of separating us without a fight. Shajn’s small collection of belongings—including a proper, decent wardrobe—was all packed, so I only had to carry the kid down to the rover, Dibin trailing behind carrying a couple of packs, and one large stuffed toy. Shajn paid no attention to it. I was the only toy anyone needed for now.

  As we had planned it—Dibin agreeing with Ledikjin and Saro’s advice—the homecoming was low-key and quiet. The adults knelt to introduce themselves, and the three children said hello without making a fuss. Ketan, the youngest and closest in age, took Shajn by the hand and into the new bedroom, letting the puggle explore. Within fifteen minutes they sat on the rug together playing with one of the toys the family had donated.

  “I think this is going to work just fine,” Dibin whispered to me as we watched from the doorway.

  “I hope so. It has to.”

  ~~~~~

  Those first few weeks with my little one were the happiest in my life since my own childhood. I couldn’t accept the credit for any of that joy, because my friends took the strain and guided me at every step. What, after all, did I know about looking after a child, other than watching Cosi and Binen for three years? Still, Ledikjin and Saro deferred to me as if I had any idea what I was doing. They did any physical parenting that needed to be done for the next few days, but I was the one the family encouraged Shajn to ask for advice or comfort. My room was next to Shajn’s, and its door stayed open at all times. The puggle’s room could be open or closed as Shajn wanted, even locked if needed. We didn’t have to let on that we could get in if we really had to.

  Everyone in the house had been instructed about uninvited touches, no unwanted hugs or embraces or tickling, and about shouting at Shajn or each other in the kid’s hearing. The house was a loving place, but Shajn needed an extra layer of care. I learned along with the children. I needed to learn fast.

  My recovery made me mostly housebound, though I could walk easily as long as I didn’t overdo things. We let Shajn decide where to go, how far the boundaries of exploration should extend. Ketan and the puggle were already fast friends, and we adults encouraged their friendship. Dibin thought school might have to wait a week or two, but the settlement kids would be introduced as felt natural. Ledikjin and Saro would guide all that with Dibin’s advice.

  Now Shajn was home, my emotions slowly disentangled. The deep ache of missing Binen, Cosi, and Byrd eased a bit, but long-suppressed feelings I had never dared examine before, crystallised into pure, white hot anger. Strangely, this felt good. I’d had many genetic advantages, and superior emotional stability was one of them. I’d allowed the military scientists who had bred me to use that stability to hustle me, without protest, off stage and into an inferior destiny—as I’d seen it at the time—and I’d believed my foster parents had had little choice in the matter in throwing me out of the only home I’d ever known.

/>   Now, knowing how much I loved Shajn and wanted to do nothing but protect my child from any more hurt, I realised that my parents had not done their best, or even tried to prevent me from harm. I’d been a chore to them, simply a job for which they were handsomely paid. The lingering guilt I felt over not having any affection for them disappeared. They didn’t deserve it.

  Of course, Dibin played a part in helping me sort this all out. I’m not that genetically advanced.

  During the day, Shajn kept me within sight or hearing at all times. If I disappeared even briefly, I could guarantee the puggle would find me, face rippling red and black in fear. Then Shajn’s skin would blossom with midnight blue, enhancing a sweet smile. Relief, and love. Chromatomorphs had a complex language of colour, but it wasn’t that hard to understand once I tried. Dibin funnelled me all the information available on the race. There was a lot of it.

  None of it mentioned that a happy chromatomorph child was the most beautiful sight in the galaxy. At least, to me.

  At night, doors stayed open. I made it clear Shajn could come find me or the other adults any time at all, and it would never be cause for a scolding. A couple of times, after bedtime reading and lights out, I heard Ketan sneak into Shajn’s room and then the two kids giggling quietly under the covers. I’d have torn out my new kidney before I said a word to silence them.

  And some nights, I woke to find a shivering kid next to me on the bed, silent but terrified. I wrapped Shajn in the blanket and held on.

  I wondered if this was healthy. Saro assured me it was normal. “So long as Shajn makes the choice, and the child can come and go freely, then this is fine. You aren’t an abuser. Shajn already knows the difference.”

  The puggle flew by instinct. I had to do the same.

  Within four weeks, Shajn had settled in, and had even started to attend the little school. The Gavnir were passionate about educating their children, and letting Shajn remain illiterate was unthinkable. After one day of me sitting at the back of the classroom, the kiddo was fine. Every morning, no matter how rough the night had been, Shajn walked off to school with a smiling face, hand in hand with Ketan or one of the others. And I watched my kid, heart full of love and pride, before going to my own assignments for the day. Every afternoon I made sure I was at the house, ready to hear the day’s news before the children went off to play before supper. Teaching a child how to read and write was something I had experienced with Byrd, so we spent the evenings playing with letters and words, inventing games that the other kids could join in on. These were some of the best times of all.

  It was easy to imagine things would stay this simple, at least until I was fit for space. I deliberately didn’t think about that future date. Once before I’d assumed I’d known my course with certainty and it had disappeared like smoke. There were so many other things to get through, more surgery, so much more therapy, and Dibin hadn’t yet come back with the results of the long-distance research on Shajn’s origins. Better to enjoy this golden time.

  But that time was shorter than I had imagined. A mere month after Shajn arrived, Saro came flying into the greenhouse. “Pax! Pax, you have to come. It’s Shajn!”

  Saro raced out of the greenhouse, and I walked slowly in the same direction. I couldn’t run in the exowalker. By the time I reached the greenhouse door, I heard my child screaming. By the schoolhouse, I saw three vehicles—two I didn’t recognise. The other was Dibin’s.

  “What the freck is going on? Shajn!”

  Two people had Shajn in their grip. Ledikjin was shouting at them and Saro tugging at Shajn’s arm, only to be pulled away by a third stranger.

  Dibin ran over and stood in front of me. “Pax, stop! You can’t do anything.”

  I ignored the words and kept moving, forcing my friend to get out of my way. “Like freck I will. What’s going on? Shajn! Let my kid go.”

  Another person—a police officer—stepped out from behind one of the vehicles and pointed a weapon at me. Another person moved up behind the ones restraining my kid. I stopped moving. “Get your hands off Shajn!”

  Dibin pushed in front of me again. “Pax, you have to listen to me. You can’t do anything. They’ve revoked the foster arrangement.”

  I looked at Dibin. “Why? It was all approved.” I stared at Shajn, squirming and crying, held immobile by the two captors. “Why are they taking my kid away.”

  “A complaint. I don’t know, I only heard a little time ago. Look, be calm and say goodbye. For Shajn.”

  I used my arm to shove Dibin aside. The police officer’s weapon remained pointed at me as I slowly advanced. I kept my attention on Shajn’s little face, rippling with fear colour, cycling black. “Pax, I don’t want to go with them! Let me go!”

  The police officer raised the weapon. “Don’t come any closer, Pilot Bancilhon.”

  “Piss off. I’m saying goodbye to my kid.”

  One of the people holding Shajn yelled at me. “You’re no longer the foster parent. You have no rights now.”

  “Shut up. Shajn, sweetie, I’ll sort this out, I promise.”

  “Pax!”

  “You’re hurting Shajn,” I growled. “Stop doing that.”

  “Step back, Pilot, or you’ll be arrested.”

  “Pax, just leave it for now,” Dibin urged, pulling at my arm.

  “Would you?”

  “Yes, I would. Please, let it go. You have no choice.”

  Saro was weeping. Ledikjin clenched fists and glared painful death at Shajn’s kidnappers. Dibin looked miserable. I fought my desire to wreak mayhem, because people would end up hurt. One of them could be Shajn.

  “I just want to give the child something,” I gritted out.

  “No. Don’t move any closer.”

  “Give to me,” Dibin said. “I’ll hand it over.”

  I lifted Namjikil’s pendant over my head, and Dibin took it, knelt, and placed it around a sobbing Shajn’s neck. “You keep that, Shajn,” I called. “Remember me. I’ll come back for you if it takes a lifetime.”

  Shajn’s hands reached out as far as the evil bastards would let them. “Pax, please help.”

  “I will, puggle. Be brave.” I could barely force the words out through the miserable fury in my throat.

  One of the bastards growled, “Enough. Let’s go.”

  The strangers bundled Shajn into their vehicle, and the cop and the others climbed into the vehicle behind them. They took off in a cloud of dust towards the city, leaving us bewildered and angry.

  “Pax, I’m so sorry,” Ledikjin said. “They went to the school before they came and found me. Dibin, why did you let this happen?”

  Saro glared at Dibin too. Dibin held both hands up. “I didn’t know anything about this. I got a message that the foster arrangement had been cancelled and I came out as fast as I could.”

  “So why?” I stepped towards Dibin, who retreated. “Tell me!”

  “Calm the freck down, will you? You’re scary as hell when you’re mad. I don’t know, okay? I’ll find out.”

  “I want Shajn back. What do you think this is doing to the child?”

  “I know, I know. It’s a mess. I’ll find out and tell you.”

  “I think you should leave now and don’t come back until you do know,” Saro said. “You’ve betrayed our trust. You’ve betrayed that child.”

  Dibin looked about to cry. I gritted my teeth. “It wasn’t Dibin. But Dibin, you should go sort this out now.”

  Dibin looked at me, then my friends. “I will, I promise. I’m really sorry, Pax. This is horrible.”

  I couldn’t say anything to that without screaming in rage. I turned and lurched back towards the house. Saro and Ledikjin joined me. I heard Dibin’s vehicle start up and drive off. I didn’t turn to watch.

  Saro touched my arm. “I grieve with you, Pax. This is wrong.”

  “We will help you get the child back,” Ledikjin said.

  “I know.” But what could any of us do?

  “How wi
ll we tell the children?” Ledikjin twisted hands in anguish.

  “We tell the truth and try to be brave,” Saro said, voice breaking.

  “I don’t know if I feel very brave,” I said. Saro leaned gently against me, supporting me. “I’ll be fine.”

  “No one needs to be fine. This is not ‘fine’.”

  “This is a crime,” Ledikjin spat. I couldn’t disagree.

  Their three kids arrived at the house half an hour later, all demanding to know what had happened to Shajn. I put on a stoic face for their sakes, because the children were frightened and angry enough, but listening to Saro and Ledikjin try to explain the unexplainable shredded my heart all over again.

  Dinner was miserable and far too quiet without Shajn and Ketan’s cheerful chatter. I excused myself as soon as possible. Shajn’s door lay open, all the mess and disorder that a seven-year-old with a dozen interests and a bright mind could make still on display. In one month, my life had been turned upside down and my heart permanently tattooed with Shajn’s love. I could face never being able to walk on my own again, never returning to space, but not seeing my puggle again might be the thing that broke me.

  I had to go into the city for a medical appointment the next day. Ledikjin drove because I was in no state after a rotten night’s sleep, and because my friend felt I needed the support. I received a call from Dibin while waiting for my doctor, and since we were already in the city, Dibin suggested we come to the office to talk about Shajn.

  I agreed, but Ledikjin was none too pleased.

  “I don’t trust the Federation. How do we know they weren’t behind this? How do we know Dibin told the truth?”

  “We don’t. I have to try, Ledikjin. Until my last breath, I have to try.”

  Dibin had commandeered a small, underfurnished office in the government building. There was barely enough space for two visitors, especially one in an exowalker. Trapped behind a tiny desk, my friend gave the impression of being under siege as we entered and shut the door.