Twin-Bred, Page 2

  “It is therefore possible that human and Tofa fetuses carried in a human uterus, or the Tofa equivalent, as twins would have some type of communication or understanding that has so far eluded our two species. And which might hold the key to our jointly surviving and flourishing on this planet.

  “Of course, this is uncertain and speculative. But the importance of the goal, in my view, justifies at least exploring, at least beginning, the attempt.”

  “What are you calling this project? Prenatal Politics? Natal Native Negotiations?”

  “Cute. I’m thinking of the Long-Term Emissary Viviparous Initiative.”

  “L.E.V.I. Thank you. Though it may not be smart. Which reminds me, someone’s going to ask you how you came up with this idea.”

  “I’ve always been fascinated by twins. Twins run in my family. I had two sets of twin cousins.”

  “That gets a little too close to the truth. They can’t find out about us. They’d write you off as unbalanced, at best. The lady pushing new types of twins who turned her own lost twin into an imaginary friend.”

  Mara looked out the window into the night. The brief evening rain was over, but the streets still glistened under the street lamps. Two students were leaving the laboratory wing. They were too far away for her to hear their conversation, but she could see the sweeping gestures with which they shared the excitement of their discoveries.

  “No, Levi. I didn’t imagine you.” She turned away from the window. “I imagine what you became.”

  Chapter 2

  The families gathered in the small meadow, surrounded by what they, if not the Tofa, called trees. Sleepy-eyed children snuggled against the legs of their parents. Adults quietly greeted each other. All wore their warmer clothes, to wait comfortably in the chill air before dawn.

  The light grew stronger. The crowd was still, the silence broken only by the sound of the water in the nearby creek and river, and an occasional murmured question from one of the children.

  The first ray of sunlight — as they called it — hit the first tree. Murmurs rose to exclamations as the light filled the meadow. With the light came a change more dramatic than the light, as every leaf of ground cover, every frond or scale of every tree, turned from a muted yellow or beige or tan to some shade, any of a dozen shades of purple — violet or lilac or mulberry or mauve or those for which no name had been needed on Earth.

  The change swept over and around the meadow, and the children, now fully awake, jumped up and down and clapped and yelled, and some of their parents joined them.

  The children's energy had begun to flag for want of nourishment. Yawning, a mother unpacked her family’s picnic basket. A friend came up and spread her own family’s blanket nearby.

  “I hear the mayor asked the Tofa again,” confided the latter. “Invited them to be here. They gave her the brush-off, as usual. You’d think they’d want to celebrate. And it’s not as if they go off and do it on their own. They never seem to go anywhere on Change Day. Just hole up in those buildings of theirs.”

  The first mother unfolded a napkin. “Do they even see in color? Does anyone know?”

  Her friend had no time to answer before the children descended on them, shouting for food. The muffins and hot chocolate were gone in minutes.

  After a suitable amount of discussion, dithering and what Levi called posterior protection, the Council voted to endorse — and far more important, to fund — the project. Some members hoped the twins, to be called the Twin-Bred, would become effective mediators. Others dreamed of human Twin-Bred ruling both human and Tofa communities. A few anticipated more modest results, an increase in knowledge about their enigmatic neighbors.

  All expected grave difficulties in winning the Tofa’s cooperation. The Council set its staff to writing up possible objections and responses thereto. Experts on human-Tofa communication, or what passed for experts, conducted role-playing exercises. Artists prepared storyboards: stick figures of humans and Tofa; the same figures, each now carrying in its outlined abdomen an human and a Tofa fetus; the figures stick-thin once again, each with a tiny human and Tofa by its side; and finally, a crowd of humans and Tofa, not quite as tall as the first, mingled together. An initial drawing showing clusters of humans and Tofa shaking their fists at each other was vetoed as possibly inflammatory. The artists could only hope the symbology that seemed obvious to humans would not be meaningless scribbles to alien minds.

  The preparations dragged on until Mara asserted her authority as Director and called a halt. Sick with dread, tempted by hope, she sent the contact team on its way and waited for the next unforeseen challenge.

  But in the event, the Tofa proved cooperative. It wasn’t clear whether they understood the project's purpose, or how they weighed its chances for success. They agreed to provide the required number of Tofa embryos, as well as Tofa host mothers, if such were desired. They refused, or at least failed, to answer questions about how the embryos would be obtained. The researchers tried to explain the need for typical, healthy Tofa embryos. No one could say if they got through.

  The Tofa’s only condition, if the humans understood correctly, was that they be allowed a veto over the human women who would serve as host mothers. But first, the women must be found.

  Mara lay back in the recliner, stretched mightily, and heaved a great groaning sigh.

  “Long day at the office?”

  “More like long three months at the office. Interminable months. Oh, Levi. How did I get myself into this? When have I ever been any good as an administrator?”

  “As I recall, until now you’ve avoided any such obligation, so your abilities in that area have been, shall we say, untested.”

  Mara reached over toward the lamp, then let her arm fall again. “I’d forgotten what it felt like, to be so unsure. It’s been years since I was — incompetent at anything.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Or labels. So the interviews have been exhausting, as well as exhaustive. That doesn’t make them unproductive.”

  “Oh, we’re finding good candidates. It’s surprising, in a way, how many women we’ve found who are ready to put their lives on hold and more or less disappear. Either we have a rather public-spirited generation of young women, or a restless and dissatisfied one. . . . Even a few of the applicants with political connections are promising. But some of them! That last one today — Veda something, Councilman Channing’s daughter. She’s one of those people who never seem to mean anything.” Mara glanced at the cartoon she had drawn after Veda’s interview: an unnaturally slim figure with clasped hands, eyes uplifted toward heaven, and price tags hanging from her clothing. “She rattles along about the joy of selflessness and devotion to public service, and I doubt she even hears herself. And I can’t remotely picture her as nurturing.”

  “Don’t write Veda off, Mara. I think there’s something there. Beneath the admittedly disquieting surface. As a subterranean creature myself, I may have a feeling for people with unsuspected depths.”

  The short cool season was over. The shades of purple were once again yielding to shades of yellow and ivory and brown. With the return of warmer weather, the parks were becoming more crowded.

  The picnic area at First Landing Park was occupied. Children at the playground smelled cooking and wondered if the food would be, at some point, unguarded and accessible. The young men playing soccer were distracted by the crowd of young women, all notably healthy and many of them attractive. There was no banner or sign to indicate what had brought them together. It could have been a reunion of some kind, but few of the women seemed to know each other. The small groups shuffled and reshuffled, and the prevailing mood seemed to be one of uncertainty, almost embarrassment.

  Laura Hanson fetched herself a beer and stood watching one of the more animated groups. One woman, petite and well-toned, with expensive hair, seemed to be the center. She was asking questions, drawing people out, and occasionally nodding to herself as though collecting information that gave
her satisfaction. The high clear voice was familiar — and the last voice Laura had expected to hear. She put down her beer and came closer.

  “Veda? Veda Seeling?”

  The woman turned and was raising an inquiring eyebrow when she saw Laura. Her eyes went wide, and the expression of amused control fell away for a moment.

  Laura rushed forward and held out her arms. “Veda, I’m so glad to see you again!”

  Veda looked around at the crowd, now full of smiles and clearly expecting a touching scene. She walked quickly into Laura’s hug and as quickly led the way to a more isolated spot. “Let’s sit here and catch up.” She sat on a stone bench and patted the spot next to her. Laura obeyed.

  “Dear Laura. It’s been so long. What have you been doing? The last I heard, you were getting another degree in something.”

  “I was. Sociology. Terran Literature is all very well, but I wasn’t sure how I would use it. And then I heard about the Project, and I thought, this is a way that I can do something that matters, instead of just learning about it. And what about you? I remember! You got married! Congratulations! His name’s Brian, isn’t it?”

  Veda preened. “Yes, we’ve been married a year now. He’s in the Bureau of Financial Relations. It’s all very difficult and complicated, finding ways to trade with the Tofa. It’d be so much easier if they could understand each other better. And whenever things get — nasty, well, you can guess what that does to the markets . . . . So he’s very interested in the Project. And Daddy too, of course. Even more so. What about your father? Did he — well, was he hoping you’d get involved?”

  Laura looked down. “Well, he’s not so sure about it. He’d like to be hopeful, and he certainly thinks something needs to be done, but he’s a little concerned about trying something so — experimental. But if it’s going to happen, he wants to know all about it.”

  “I might have known you’d be here. You were always so — so interested in our Tofa neighbors.”

  Veda had a way of saying things — a hint of mockery or threat, hovering behind the words. Or so it was now, with this older and harder Veda. Was her friend still there somewhere, stifled and helpless? She wanted to call her forth, to lure her out.

  She started to say, “Remember —” and stopped herself. She was sure that Veda remembered. That was the trouble.

  Laura bounced on her toes as the copter touched down. Her mother held her hand to keep her in place until the motors shut off and the door opened. Released, she ran forward and grabbed her friend by the hand.

  “Veda, Veda! I’m eight today! Did they tell you? It’s my birthday! I’m eight!”

  Veda sniffed a bit. “I’ll be eight in a month. Everyone’s eight, sooner or later.” She relented. “But happy birthday.” She gave Laura a kiss on the cheek, forgiving her for being first.

  “And I’ve got another surprise.” Laura pulled Veda away from where the grownups were standing and chatting. “By the creek behind the house. Come and look with me. I don’t know if he’ll be there, but he might be.”

  Veda followed her, patting her curls and fluffing her dress. “A boy? What’s so surprising about a boy? Where I live, in the city, there are lots of boys, all over.”

  “Not like this boy.” Laura led Veda around the house and down the hill to the creek. As they approached it, she looked around anxiously, then relaxed, smiled and pointed. “There he is! Lat-ran! Over here! Come meet my friend!”

  A young Tofa was approaching the creek on the other side. Veda gave a little shriek, then glanced quickly at Laura. Laura pretended she hadn't noticed, waving to the Tofa and urging him on.

  Veda stood rigid as a statue as the Tofa reached the creek and crossed it in one long stride. Laura hoped she had not miscalculated. Veda had always seemed ready to handle anything. Laura patted her friend on the shoulder. “Don’t be scared. Lat-ran is my friend. Lat-ran, this is my human friend, Veda.”

  Veda stared at Lat-ran. Lat-ran may have stared back. It was difficult to be sure when eyes were the only feature in what passed for a face.

  Veda leaned over and whispered, “How do you know his name?”

  “He told me, silly. At least, he said it and pointed to himself. With all his hands.”

  “How did he talk? He’s got no mouth!”

  “Daddy says there’s something like a mouth that we can’t see, behind a — a mem-brane, I think he called it. Now stop whispering — it’s rude.”

  Reminded of manners, Veda turned toward the Tofa. “Nice to meet you, Lat-ran.” She bobbed a little curtsey.

  Lat-ran tilted his upper body to one side. Whatever it meant, Veda seemed to view it as a bow or other respectful gesture. She smiled regally. “I think he is nice.”

  Now Lat-ran was gesturing, pointing across the creek. Laura tugged on Veda’s sleeve. “Come on. He wants us to go to his side. We can make it if we run and jump.”

  Veda hesitated. “Are we allowed?” She sidled closer to Laura and -- despite Laura's previous remonstrance -- whispered, "Is it safe?"

  It was strange to be the one taking charge. “Oh, sure! As long as we stay in sight of the house, it’s all right. I do it all the time. Well, since I met Lat-ran, the week before last.”

  Without further ado, Laura took a few paces back, ran at the creek and jumped across. She landed with a dusty thump, almost toppling, but managing to stay upright. “Come on!”

  Not to be outdone, Veda retreated a substantial distance, ran full steam at the creek, leaped across, and fell forward on her hands and knees. She sprang up and inspected herself. Neither skin nor clothing was damaged, to Laura's as well as Veda's relief. Veda beamed proudly and announced, “That was fun!”

  Lat-ran stepped across to follow them, and promptly stepped back again to where the girls had started. Laura giggled and made another running jump across. Veda did the same, calibrating her run more carefully this time and landing upright. That seemed to be enough for her: she waited, tapping her foot, while Laura and Lat-ran crossed the creek three more times.

  Not wanting to annoy her guest, Laura called a halt, pointing firmly at her side of the creek when Lat-ran moved to cross to his side yet again. She picked up a handful of pebbles and offered them to Lat-ran, who took them with his nearest hand. Veda jumped just a bit at the reach of the long thin arm.

  “Just see what Lat-ran can do!” Laura swept an arm in Lat-ran’s direction. In response, Lat-ran began tossing the pebbles, one by one. They landed in a neatly curving line, which soon became a circle.

  Veda found some pebbles of her own and tried to imitate this feat, without notable success. She scowled.

  Laura hoped Veda wasn't going to be a spoilsport. “I can't do it either. But see? It’s a face! He’ll probably give it pig-tails, like mine. It’s a picture of me!”

  And indeed, one side of the circle had sprouted a line that could with generosity be deemed a pigtail. But as the girls watched, the other side of the circle sprouted a circle of its own, and then another. Lat-ran pointed to Veda.

  “Oooh, how clever!” Laura clapped her hands. “He’s made it half pig-tailed and half curly! It’s a picture of both of us!”

  Mollified, Veda smiled at Lat-ran and joined in Laura’s clapping. Lat-ran used two free hands to imitate them.

  They were interrupted by the ringing of a bell. Laura tapped Veda on the shoulder. “That’s the lunch bell! Lat-ran, we’ve got to go. Thank you for the picture! We’ll see you later!” She grabbed Veda’s hand and tugged her toward the house. As they reached the top of the hill, Laura turned back toward the creek for a moment. Lat-ran was looking after them. Then he dropped the rest of his pebbles and stepped back across the creek.

  For the rest of the day, the girls were busy with family events and their own games. There were a couple of times that Veda seemed about to say something, and then changed her mind. Did she want to go see Lat-ran again? Laura wasn't sure. She didn't want to spoil things by pressing the matter. And there were plenty of other things to d
o.

  Next day, however, after breakfast, Veda took the initiative. “Do you think Lat-ran would be around this morning? Let’s go and see, before I have to leave.”

  The girls trotted eagerly toward the creek. As they approached, they saw that Lat-ran was indeed visible, standing not far from the creek. He was not alone. An adult Tofa loomed behind him. Laura had thought of Lat-ran as tall; the adult’s height was truly intimidating.

  The girls came to a halt, at a similar distance from the creek on their side. Veda whispered to Laura. “What do we do now?”

  Laura hesitated and then stepped forward. “Hello, Lat-ran! It’s nice to see you again. Is that your, uh, your father?” She hoped she’d guessed right, or that the Tofa weren’t easily offended in matters of gender.

  Veda stepped up beside her and curtsied. “Good morning, Mr. Tofa.”

  The adult made a barely visible gesture in Lat-ran’s direction. Lat-ran stood very still. The adult gestured again. Slowly, as if reluctant, Lat-ran bent sideways and picked up some pebbles. He straightened up again, raised his long arm, and threw a pebble hard in the girls’ direction. It landed between them. Lat-ran threw another. It landed just to Veda’s right. And another, just to Laura’s left.

  Laura and Veda turned to each other in consternation. The pebbles kept falling, always close but never quite reaching them. The girls backed away, staring. The pebbles followed their retreat. One just touched the edge of Veda’s shoe. The girls turned and ran, Veda crying openly, Laura fighting back her tears.

  Veda packed up her overnight things with brisk angry gestures. Laura sat on her bed, trying to think of something to say.

  “You know how well he throws. He could have hit us if he wanted to. He didn’t want to. The other Tofa made him do it — and he still didn’t hit us.”

  Veda slammed her suitcase shut. “I don’t know what he wanted, and I don’t care. They’re great big horrible creatures, and I never want to see another one as long as I live.”