Authors: Kim Falconer
‘Solid.’
‘A predictable and solid relationship. That’s never been your “feel good”.’
‘You’re right, but it’s never stopped me from loving.’
‘Of course not. No reason for it to. The question is, will it stop you from having a child?’
Rosette stiffened. ‘What?’
That was subtle, Jarrod.
The temple cat seemed to be chuckling as he spoke.
I don’t actually have a plan for this,
he said to Drayco.
Pity. A bit of scripting would have been wise.
Rosette was up and pacing. He ignored her familiar and patted the seat again. ‘Sit with me. Let me explain what I meant.’
‘I’m fine.’ She stood in front of him, arms crossed. ‘What are you talking about reproduction for now?’
‘I tried to bring it up in Timbali, before we were called, but then it didn’t seem so urgent.’
‘Urgent?’
‘I’m just saying that we nearly lost you. We nearly lost the spell and…there’s no backup.’
She clamped her hands on her hips. ‘That’s what this is about? You need me to brood like a mare in a paddock to make sure your key-codes pass on?’
‘Not quite like a mare in a paddock.’ He caught her look. ‘I mean,
nothing
at all like a mare in a paddock!’
‘Like what, then? And with whom? Have you picked him out for me too? Demons, Jarrod!’ She looked around as if the walls held the answer.
‘Rosette, I haven’t picked anything out and I have no hidden motive. I’m not telling you what to do or what must be done. I’m only saying that in the past, the Richter line has naturally passed down the quantum key-codes in their DNA—without prompting, I might add.’
Without prompting? Smart tag, Jarrod. I’ll bet you wish they’d programmed you as any other sign but Aries right now. Perhaps the diplomacy of Libra? Or maybe the compassion and poetic subtlety of Pisces? You seem to possess neither.
Drayco, can you hold off on the commentary, please? I’m having enough trouble getting this out as it is.
I see that.
The temple cat yawned.
Rosette’s face was turning red. ‘I’m not going to have some random child, Jarrod, just because you think it’s time to run a backup program for your operating determinants. Why would I want to set aside my training and my chance to take on an apprentice of my own now that I’ve actually made it to Temple Los Loma? I just got my body back, for flaming demons’ sake. I’m not turning it over to some little tyke for the next few decades. Not now. I’m not ready. Forget it.’ She started to pace again. Drayco’s tail lashed as she spoke. Jarrod realised his timing was terrible.
Perhaps it would have been good to ask Kreshkali to run a chart for the most opportune moment to broach this topic. Clearly this wasn’t it,
Drayco said.
Clearly.
Rosette didn’t stop talking. ‘I’d love to know who you think I’m going to have this child with!’ She sucked in her breath. ‘Is that why you asked about Grayson? You think he’s the one? Have you examined his DNA? Are we well-matched lab rats?’
‘Lab rats?’
‘I’ve read the journals. I know how this all started, back when Luka Paree was dabbling with an extinct species and Janis Richter thought she could save the world with…with you!’ She stopped pacing and pointed her finger at him. ‘Experiments! Laboratory animals! Is that all I am to you?’
Drayco growled deep in his throat, or was that
laughter?
I’ve heard, Jarrod, that when people have something very important to say, they get a bard to help them write it out. Do you think that would have been a good idea? Even Clay, were he still alive, could have said all this much better.
Stop it, Drayco. I get that it’s not coming out the way I’d hoped.
I’m curious to see how you’ll extricate yourself. You’re in deep, deep
…
I know!
Rosette’s arms were gesticulating wildly as she ranted on, firing one protest after the other. Jarrod got up, blocking her in her tracks. He grabbed her shoulders, and forced her to look at him. ‘Do you think that Nell put her life on hold to have you?’ He cringed. It wasn’t what he’d meant to say.
Going deeper with that line of thought, Jarrod. She’s still wrestling abandonment issues. Did you forget?
Rosette flushed. ‘What? Nell put her life on hold for me? Hardly. She gave me up to Bethsay, remember? She didn’t even know where you were, but she passed the spell along anyway.’ Her eyes were fierce. ‘Why don’t you ask her to have another daughter? I’ll gladly hand the spell to my little sister when she comes of age. You could time the birth for a more convivial moon sign. Ceres perhaps? Maybe that’ll make her clucky.’ Rosette spun away from him. She grabbed the door and, balancing on one foot, stomped into her boots. ‘Where’s my sword?’
Jarrod looked around, speechless.
‘Never mind.’ She snapped out the words. ‘An’ Lawrence will have it. Is he on the training grounds?’
He coughed.
‘Oh, great. So he’s still not here? Demons with him. Demons with you all.’ She spun back, her face crimson, fists in the air, poised to strike.
He raised his hands. ‘Tio, Rosette. Tio. I don’t want to fight.’
‘Really? Then why’d you bring this up?’ She turned and stormed out, Drayco bounding after her.
Rosette says to
…
I hear what she says, Drayco. Thank you.
He sank to the couch, rubbing his face in his hands. He thought of going after her, but changed his mind. She needed time to get used to the idea. It would work out. It always had.
There was a tap at the door. Kreshkali looked in, and gave him a soft smile. ‘Everything all right?’ she asked, one eyebrow raised. ‘I heard a commotion.’
‘It could have been worse,’ he said. ‘Her sword wasn’t here, thank the goddess.’
‘She didn’t take the news well?’
Jarrod shrugged. ‘I haven’t exactly told her yet.’
‘About An’ Lawrence or the pregnancy?’
‘Neither.’
‘The portals?’
He shook his head.
‘What
did
you say?’
‘All the wrong things. It’s never been an issue before. I was on unfamiliar territory.’
She patted his arm. ‘Her mind shield is up, Jarrod. Do you know where she’s headed?’
‘Out of the manor at a run.’
‘I’ll send Teg. Time they met properly anyway. It’ll be all right.’ Kreshkali closed her eyes for a moment.
‘Come.’ She extended her hand. ‘It’ll sort out. She’s not the first young witch to have a child she wasn’t expecting.’
He nodded. ‘Let’s just make sure she’s not the last.’
E
verett stepped off the chopper, wind tearing at his clothes, the whirl of the blades deafening. He stooped, running hunched until clear of the landing pad, his pack bouncing against his back, his baggage nearly slipping from his grip. As he reached the abandoned building, the chopper took off and disappeared into the clouds. There was no wave of farewell. He hadn’t expected one.
Everett took in the surroundings. His eyes welled up, blurring the vista like a watercolour left in the rain. Oh such colours! He struggled between the rush of emotion and the desire for clear vision. The sun was shining a brilliant yellow, the horizon blue—something he’d only seen in computer simulations and digital imagery. Puffs of white clouds were strewn overhead and there were birds—real ones—flying in the distance.
It was beautiful beyond his wildest imagination—the sky, the clouds, the mountain peaks, the birds. There were trees too, healthy ones of different shapes and shades of green ranging from almost yellow to a teal blue. Tall varieties with smooth bark and long leaves were clustered around the building, shading it from the sun like guardians. The building itself was double-storey, the corrugated iron rust-red with age. A sign hung sideways from a large wooden beam, one of its chains snapped. It squeaked in the breeze, swinging on its single support. He tilted his head to read the words ‘Flight Centre’.
According to the archives, this had been a heavily trafficked air transport complex before the ‘conflict’. He laughed at the euphemism. ‘Holocaust’ would be a more accurate description for what had happened in his world, but ASSIST was big on prevarication. Whatever it had been, this Flight Centre now marked the edge of the Borderlands—a place with horrors of its own, supposedly. At least it existed, and was not a fabrication of ASSIST.
He took a deep breath. If this was the gnashing hell he had been led to believe, he welcomed it. It looked more like paradise to him. He turned full circle, arms outstretched, taking it in. A mountain filled his view. It was jagged and snow-capped. Majestic. His eyes welled again.
Insects of some kind chanted in the midday heat. He brushed one from his face and laughed. He couldn’t believe such luxuriance of nature existed only a few hours’ flight from the city. Why hadn’t he come here sooner? He’d had all the status and credits he needed, but, like his colleagues, he’d been led to believe the world was wretched beyond the protection of the sector walls. Not until the recent death of his Jane Doe did he start to wonder, to research for himself what
was ‘out there’. Standing in the abandoned airstrip and seeing where she must have come from, he began to understand her better.
Everett had uncovered an underground contact while searching the history of the Borderlands. The contact was eager and the requirements clear. He had a way into this new world, this strange culture that had sidestepped the regimented and endless life offered by the Allied States One. He exhaled. They were to meet him here. He only had to wait.
As the heat brought perspiration to his forehead, he heard their voices. They were unmistakably human, and unmistakably happy. The conversations and laughter rode the breeze. In the distance several people were walking up the road, heading straight for him. This was it. First contact.
He waved, the other hand going to his pocket, automatically checking for the tiny cryo case. It was there, safely zipped into the lining of his jacket. He wouldn’t rush, he told himself. He’d do what he came here for—establish the in vitro fertility program for those who wanted to conceive, and somewhere along the line he’d find the perfect host for his project, none the wiser. But he would know, and eventually he would discover the secrets of the egg he’d harvested—a DNA combination that had left him awestruck. Jane Doe’s child would have answers to questions he’d not even considered. He was sure of it. ‘Hello.’ He projected his voice, searching their faces.
Everett knew he was about to make a deadly deal, and so did these people. They had been sterilised for a reason—ASSIST’s internal protection protocol—and if he were discovered reversing that process, his life would be suspended. Why he’d been compelled to turn his back on ASSIST—the safety, predictability and
longevity they provided—to offer medical aid to the Borderlands shocked him at first until he acknowledged his feelings. It was simply a sense of hope. As he looked around, he knew that his hope had been answered—paradise on Earth. These people never had to know what else he would get in return.
He patted the case and put both hands in the air, waving his enthusiasm as well as his lack of weapons, just in case. ‘I’m Everett Kelly,’ he said, extending his hand to the woman who greeted him. ‘Dr Everett Kelly.’
‘Regina De Luth,’ she said and introduced the half-dozen adults accompanying her.
They were all dressed in brightly coloured fabric with much of their skin exposed. Their necks were draped with decorations of blue and white stones, smaller versions hanging from hooks in their ears. They were a tattooed people, as he suspected, though none of the designs he saw in this group remotely resembled the images on…he scratched his head, trying to remember something. It seemed like it was important, but it slipped away before he could grasp it. They were nothing like Jane Doe’s.
‘Are you all right, doctor?’ Regina asked.
He wiped his brow.
‘The climate takes some getting used to,’ she said.
He shook his head. ‘I’m fine. Just not expecting the heat.’
She smiled. ‘You’ll learn to appreciate it.’
They picked up his bags and guided him back the way they’d come, over a rise and down a track that led into a moist, windless jungle. Every aspect of this land was like an alien world to Everett. The scents in the air alone astounded him. They tantalised him with their contrast to the accustomed odours of tarmac, smoke and chemicals. The richness that assailed his nostrils
was unrecognisable, but he revelled in it anyway. He couldn’t imagine what the food would taste like in such a place. He took off his jacket, carefully folding it over his arm. ‘How far away is it?’
‘Our home?’ Regina smiled. ‘Not far.’
The village was nestled in a sheltered valley a few hours’ hike from the abandoned airstrip. By the time they arrived, he was so disoriented he couldn’t have said which direction they’d gone.
They crossed a high arched bridge, traversing a gorge with rushing water far below. After spending over a century in a single apartment building and the skyscraper hospital complex, this experience was like a rebirth. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t find his way out. He never wanted to go back.
Regina showed him to a cottage adjacent to a large open-air building she called the healing centre. It was comfortable, organic, with breezeways and a high-beamed ceiling.
‘Are you ready to get started?’ she asked. ‘Or do you need to rest?’
A line was forming outside the clinic. All women. All in their prime. How could that be?
‘Where is your…what do you call him?’
Regina laughed, the sound like sweet wind chimes. ‘Are you asking for our shaman?’
‘Shaman, yes. Where is he?’
She laughed again. ‘I am she.’
‘I didn’t know,’ he said. He made a show of gathering items from several bags to pack in his kit. He included the cryo-pac from his jacket as well.