Alien Refuge (7 page)

“Every life is a lesson for others to learn from. To profit from. It is their loss when they fail to recognize it.”

Before Iris could speak the agreement rising to her lips, Thomas’ panicked voice came from a distance away. “Mommy! Where’s Mommy?”

Iris gasped and began to struggle to her feet. Rivek stopped her by gently pressing on her shoulders. “He is all right, Matara Iris. Wait right here. Copin will bring him to you.”

Instead of protesting the way she would have with anyone else, Iris felt a surge of trust. It made no sense, not when Rivek was a stranger and a Kalquorian at that. Yet there was something so familiar about the kind way he was with her, something that triggered confidence in his words. She settled again on the cushion, hearing Thomas continuing to call for her, his piping voice drawing closer all the time.

Despite the calm compassion Rivek displayed, his eyes on her were sharp. “It must be difficult to always be on alert as you are. When did you last have a moment to yourself?”

Iris grimaced. “I can’t remember.”

Copin stepped into the room with Thomas in hand. Iris winced to see her son was down to his underwear. The priest held Thomas’ clothing neatly draped over his arm, socks and boots clutched in his free hand. The young Kalquorian looked not the least bit discomfited, as if it was commonplace for little Earther boys to roam about the temple nearly naked.

In fact, his bright smile had not diminished in the least since running after her son. “Here is your mother, Thomas.”

“Mommy!” Thomas flung himself at her, happy to be reunited. The train clutched in his fist banged painfully against the back of her head, but she chose to ignore it. Love from Thomas usually meant a few bumps and bruises, and she cherished every one.

As Iris hugged and kissed him, Copin laid the boy’s clothes on one of the cushions. He bowed. “Thank you for the opportunity to let me run and play with your son, Matara. I enjoyed it. I am ready to do so again, should Thomas need me. Please bring him any time.” He grinned at Thomas, who had finished with Iris and now was happily occupied in rolling all over the cushions. “Goodbye, Thomas.”

“Goodbye, Copin.” Thomas’ words were muffled since his face was buried in the soft pillowy surface.

“Master.” Copin bowed to Rivek and left the room. Iris stared speechless after him. She slowly realized she’d forgotten to thank the young man for keeping Thomas occupied.

She turned to Rivek. “He’s so nice. I can’t believe that big man actually said he enjoyed chasing after my six-year-old.”

“If he said so, then he did enjoy it.” Rivek nodded at her doubtful expression. “Copin is a firm believer that nothing happens by chance. That all encounters occur for a reason. It’s a belief I subscribe to myself.”

Iris blinked at the priest. Before she could stop herself, she said, “I wonder what the reason is that we’ve met then?”

Rivek arched an eyebrow. “That is a very good question.”

Thomas stood, walked over to the priest, and plopped unceremoniously on his lap. Iris’ mouth dropped wide open. She had the passing thought she should apologize to Rivek, but that Thomas would be so familiar with someone he’d barely met—

“He never does that with strangers.”

Rivek seemed amused to have a wriggling semi-naked child piled on top of him. “Then maybe we are not strangers. Do we know each other, Thomas?”

Instead of answering, Thomas held up his connected engine and caboose for Rivek’s attention. “Train. Train.”

“A wonderful train built by a wonderful boy. What is this part?” The priest pointed.

“Dome.”

“And this?”

“Whistle!”

“Show me what this train does.”

Thomas slipped from Rivek’s lap to roll his train on the floor. “Woo, woo!”

They took turns pushing the train back and forth, laughing together when Thomas made it crash into a cushion. At his cry of “All better,” they resumed rolling it over the floor. For Iris’ part, she could only watch in amazement as the big Kalquorian played with her son.

The Kalquorians were truly astonishing people.

Chapter 3

Iris and Thomas ended up spending all of the morning and lunch with Rivek. Iris had expected the Kalquorian to ask her all the typical questions: where was Thomas’ father, what had she done before Armageddon, what kind of therapies and medications had been tried to treat Thomas’ disabilities. Rivek asked none of those questions. Instead he seemed perfectly content to query Thomas about his train, about how Iris had made the pie she’d brought, and how she liked Haven. His inquiries seemed almost trivial, but Iris had the idea they were anything but idle.

For the most part, he let her lead their conversations while he entertained Thomas. She took the opportunity to ask her own questions and discovered Rivek had followed his fathers and mother into the priesthood.

“Not because they forced it on me,” he told Iris as he ran up and down the room with a happily shrieking Thomas riding piggyback. He didn’t even sound out of breath as he did so. “In fact, they encouraged me to explore all of life’s possibilities. However, at the age of twelve, I visited the humble birthplace of my faith’s first philosopher Lozatu. There, I had the epiphany that one did not have to live in a temple to follow the Book of Life. All the world is a temple. I traveled for some years in the company of other roaming priests and aspirants, seeking to find the profound in the most simple of lives.”

He’d returned to the temple life two years before meeting his clanmates. “I saw them at their clanning ceremony. A few days later, Ospar consulted with me, trying to decide whether to remain with his uncle’s mining business, which he stood to inherit, or to go into politics, which was where his heart truly was. I joined their clan that same year.”

“How long have you been together?” Iris couldn’t help but grin as Rivek pulled Thomas from his back and dangled him upside down to make the child laugh harder than ever. She loved Thomas’ laugh.

“Twenty-five years.” Rivek gently set Thomas on the ground, then picked him up to toss him in the air, catching him as easily as he might a baseball. Thomas howled with glee.

“We really should go,” Iris said, though she didn’t want to. “We’re keeping you from your work.”

“You are my assignment this morning.” Rivek gave her a mock scowl. “And if you apologize one more time about being here, I am going to become cross with you. You’ll stay here for lunch and then go home and inspect Jol’s work to make sure he did a satisfactory job.”

Iris’ eyes had widened to be ordered around like that. Still, the Imdiko had issued his commands with such a mild tone that she couldn’t find an argument or offense.

After a nice lunch of broiled chicken, peas and mushrooms in butter, and salted baked potatoes for the two adults and a plain cheese sandwich for the child, Iris and a reluctant Thomas got back in their snow crawler and headed home. Rivek told them they had an invitation to return anytime they wished.

“That is what we are here for,” he assured Iris. “To offer a place of peace, reflection, and betterment for all, no matter their age, beliefs, or species.”

Iris wondered if she could figure out a good reason to visit again soon. Rivek fascinated her every bit as much as his Nobek clanmate.

She hoped Jol would still be at her home when she got there, though she still wasn’t sure why she wanted to see him so much. Was it because he, like the men at the temple, had been so kind to Thomas? It often felt that her son had too few people in his corner. Was her fascination with Jol and his Imdiko clanmate a simple matter of the aliens not seeming to mind Thomas’ quirks?

Iris turned into her homestead, noting the tall, slender metal poles set up in regular intervals between her front lawn and the travel lane. The boundary shield had been installed then. She looked towards the house, looking for some sign Jol was still there.

Someone was there all right. In fact, two someones waited in front of her home. They weren’t Kalquorians however. One face Iris didn’t mind seeing at all. The other made her groan. Thomas gave her a questioning glance and imitated the sound.

She pulled up to the crawler’s shed, noting the path cleared in the snow between it and her front door. A nice, clean path, unlike the one she’d slogged through to get between buildings that morning. Iris noted the snow blower hanging from its peg where it belonged. She hadn’t left it there. It had sat in the yard overnight, left on the ground where she’d dropped it when Thomas had made his panicked dash for the travel lane.

Jol must have placed it in the building. Iris was a little embarrassed she hadn’t put it away, as if blatantly disregarding her belongings. She sighed. She still couldn’t believe Jol, a man of such importance to the colony, had done menial handyman’s work on her behalf. And she’d given him a pie in thanks. It would be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.

Holding Thomas’ hand, Iris headed for her house to see what her visitors wanted. She pasted a smile on her face for Father Stephen and Governor Hoover and triggered the remote to unlock her front door while still half the distance away.

She called out, “You can go on in. Get out of the cold, if you like.”

Governor Hoover did so, his bulky form wasting no time to gain the warmth of the house. However, Father Stephen waited for them to join him. A long, spare man, he huddled in his thick coat and snow boots. Ribbons of vapor trailed from his nostrils. He smiled as Iris and Thomas came on, the deep lines of his prematurely aged face turning to grooves, making his features seem as if carved into wood. The priest was only in his early fifties, but he looked much, much older. His hair was almost as white as the snow that laid on the ground.

He addressed the younger of the Jensons first. “Hello, Thomas.”

“Train!” the boy yelled by way of greeting. He held it up for Father Stephen’s inspection. The priest widened his eyes with appropriate amazement. “My, another one of your amazing creations. You are so talented.” He turned his attention to Iris. “Hello, my dear. How are you?”

Iris smiled at him. “Fine, Father, thanks. Please, go in.”

“After you two.” He waited for them, following the pair into the room where the governor awaited, standing in the middle of the living room area.

Hoover had never been in Iris’ home. She’d seen him mostly from a distance at colony meetings. She hadn’t been impressed with him, though the man said all the right things when it came to putting the tiny outpost on a paying basis. Hoover wanted Haven to be as successful as the Mercy colony, which was in the Galactic Council’s territory. Hoover’s economics were sound, but Iris found him to be peevish when it came to their Kalquorian hosts. He seemed to have no appreciation for the land they’d been given free and clear.

As long and lean as Father Stephen was, Governor George Hoover was stout. He wasn’t precisely fat, but he didn’t have far to go if he wanted to gain that status. His jowls gave him an almost bulldoggish appearance, and his black brows were thick, wild things that gave him an angry aspect even when he smiled.

Thomas’ eyes slid right over the Earther governor as if he wasn’t there. Hoover stared in blatant shock as the boy didn’t stop with taking his coat and boots off. Thomas kept on stripping until he was down to his underwear. Father Stephen’s smile was slightly embarrassed, but he knew Thomas’ dislike of too much skin contact.

Iris was struck by the differences between the judgment of her own kind versus the immediate acceptance of the Kalquorians who had met Thomas. No one at the Temple of Life had batted an eye over Thomas’ near nudity as far as she knew.

She was usually quick to explain to others unfamiliar with her son’s discomfort with textiles. This time, however, Iris decided Hoover could be unnerved. The room was very warm and comfortable, and the heater made no more than a whisper of sound. Gratitude for Jol’s work curled pleasantly in her stomach.

“Sit down,” she urged her guests. “Can I offer you anything to drink? Some apple pie?”

Hoover looked at the simple furniture, his distaste apparent. The seating wasn’t that old and it was clean, but it showed the wear from Thomas’ hard use. He finally chose the chair Jol had sat in the day before. Father Stephen settled on the donated lounger.

The priest waved his hand at her offer. “Nothing for me, thanks.”

Hoover added with smooth, diplomatic tones, “Thank you, but no. We won’t take up much of your time, Mrs. Jenson.” He watched the underwear-clad Thomas play with his collection of trains as if afraid the boy would suddenly turn rabid and attack.