And What of Earth

Chapter 14



As she arrived back at the intersection of Thicket and Emerald, just inside the perimeter set up by the army, she was met by a Wakiran male who was carrying an honest-to-goodness file folder. He handed it to her saying that it contained the images she had requested while she was at the clinic. Jennifer quickly perused the 8 images, recognizing the 4 that had visited the clinic a week earlier, including the victim of the car accident. She pointed out the duty sergeant and instructed the alien to hand over the images to him, and to tell him that they were the pictures the general wanted to see "ASAP". He seemed briefly confused at the acronym, but responded with "I obey."

When Jennifer entered at the ship after having supper with her father, Poke got a shocked look on her face (or at least what Jennifer thought was a shocked look) and asked Jennifer to pull up a sleeve of her top. Despite being confused and taken aback by the request, Jennifer pulled up the sleeve as requested, all the while staring at her Wakiran friend.

"Jennifer," Poke said seemingly dumbfounded. "You're orange."

"I'm what?" She looked down at her left arm. "The symbiote has changed color. Why would it do that, Poke? What does it mean?"

The alien continued to look dumbfounded. "This is impossible. This should not happen for at least another 15 ninedays. Or more."

"What has happened? I take it that there's some sort of significance to the color change?"

Poke forced her mouth shut and tried to at least look professional. "Jennifer, when you and the symbiote joined 6 of your days ago, we said that it had accepted you."

"I remember."

"The color change indicates that the symbiote has now approved of you. It has declared that you are worthy of becoming the next Mother of the Empire."

"So soon? She hasn't really had a chance to get to know me. How can she have approved of me already?"

"As I said, it is impossible. The period between the joining and approval is half a standard year or more -- about 5 of your months. The time between approval and appointment is normally 3 or 4 years. That is when the candidate becomes our Mother. Your approval should not have happened until a half-year after we arrived back at Homeworld."

"Impossible? This whole affair has been nothing but impossibilities, Poke. Myka bonding with me being the first."

"The first improbability was sending the heir to this planet at this time to do a survey. The first impossibility, at the risk of upsetting you, was all 5 females going into cycle prematurely at the same time. We know within 2 days when we will enter and exit cycle. I entered 16 standard days early. With respect Jennifer, mine was the first impossibility. Yours, while not first in occurrence, was first in importance. And now, this. If I hadn't looked at your feet and seen them clad in orange instead of pink --."

Jennifer walked over to where Poke was sitting and sat down beside her. "What does this all mean, Poke? Does this change anything at all?"

"Many of the Wakira will start referring to you as the Chosen. Those who are not already calling you Mother, that is."

"That was only Medahso. His fears had caused him to be confused. Or, he wanted to be able to trust someone, and he felt he could only trust the Mother."

Poke snorted her version of a laugh. "It is not just that poor male. A number of the mission staff are now referring to you as Mother. They are in awe of you, Jennifer. Just as they would be were you already our Mother. As far as I know, this has never happened before either."

"Crap, Poke. I don't want Myka's mom to think I'm trying to push her out the door, so to speak. I still don't think that I'm capable or suited to do the job you say that I'll be expected to do."

Poke patted her on her knee. "Your symbiote thinks otherwise. We don't know how they know things. Or how they can determine what will be needed in the future. But, we have every reason to believe that they do, in fact, know. So, it knows. And that is why it has declared you to be approved."

"Will this make things easier for Myka? For when his dad arrives?"

Poke tilted her head, and locked gazes with Jennifer. "You must stop worrying about the bonding. Neither of you had wanted it. It happened. It shouldn't have happened, but it did. To keep blaming yourself is foolish, Jennifer. It is what it is." She rubbed the top of her snout. "But yes, it probably will. Any doubts that the Emperor might have about the bonding and the joining will be -- shot down? -- upon his arrival. The fact that the approval came far earlier than could ever have been expected will give added emphasis to the -- rebuttal? I don't think that that is the correct word."

"I think you mean refutation. But I knew what you meant. Just as long as Myka doesn't get verbally abused by his dad over what has happened. It wasn't his doing. Who can understand any of this?"

"Just as it was not your doing either. If you feel that Myka should be spared any condemnation or criticism for the bonding, then you should feel the same way about yourself. Ahhhh," Poke added, "further confirmation of your being approved. The weapon has appeared."

Jennifer looked down where Poke was directing her gaze -- Jennifer's left hip. A long-barrelled weapon of incomprehensible design was visible through her scrub bottoms. "So now I'm a pistol-packin' mama." She wanted desperately to giggle at the pun, but couldn't. Poke didn't understand the reference and said nothing.

"Let me guess, Poke. We don't know where this weapon comes from, how it knows who the candidate is, where the candidate is, or exactly what it can or can't do. And it is of a technology that the Wakira don't have or even know. Am I right?" She stood and peeled off her scrubs, the bottoms coming off even though the weapon seemed to be attached through them to her left leg.

"We don't know if the weapon is part of the symbiote, or is a separate entity. We do know that it is at least semi-intelligent. You can make it appear and disappear just like you can with your mask. But yes, you are right. We know precious little about it, except that it can kill at great distances of its own accord. The incident that Myka told you about is proof of that. We can duplicate some of the things that it can do -- like your weapon, we have weapons that can stun, fire hypersonic projectiles, and fire bursts of explosive plasma. However, your weapon, like the one Myka's mother possesses, can both see through and fire through obstacles. Though I don't suggest you do so, you could point the weapon at the wooden seats opposite us and destroy some of them without having to step out of the ship. We don't know the limit that it can see through and fire through, but it is believed that it is less than one-tenth of the distance between your planet and its natural satellite. We know that the weapon is at least semi-intelligent because it can activate itself when it feels that it is near hostiles. And it can control the movement of the -- barrel? This has been made apparent when the Mother attempts to fire at a long distance. Normally, any small hand tremor would cause the plasma or projectiles to miss the target entirely. It will keep the barrel steady for firing, when necessary."

The evening was spent familiarizing Jennifer with the weapon, including the ability to see through bulkheads, walls, and other obstacles. She learned how to make the weapon attach itself to her left arm (by slapping her leg and saying or thinking the word "weapon"), how to get it to detach itself from her arm ("disarm"), and how to get it to disappear entirely ("hide"). After commenting to Poke how strange it was that she could use English words rather than the Wakiran equivalents, Jennifer struck a pose in front of a full-length mirror -- masked, with the weapon attached, and its base resting on her hip. "Now I look like a warrior queen," she commented, while trying to look both sexy and dangerous. "Well, except for the safety orange color."





When she arrived Friday morning, Barb told her that she had had a sleepover -- their expression for someone who had stayed overnight at the clinic. One of the farmhands from the area had gotten drunk and had had an altercation. A friend of his dumped him at the clinic, saying that he couldn't risk getting into trouble with the MPs again. He had told Barb that someone would come around to pick him up around 7:30. The two of them walked to the back room and peeked in. He was still out cold on the bed. When the two women got back to the front desk, they looked at each other and said in unison "I hate sleepovers."

Jennifer paced the front room after Barb left. She hated being alone with someone in the back, unless it was someone that she knew well. She had only seen this guy once or twice before. Knowing he was back there gave her the willies. The ninety minutes she had to wait until he would be leaving couldn't go by quickly enough.

At 7:20, she went to the back to rouse him. She stuck her head through the doorway and saw that he was still curled up, facing the wall. "Hey buddy," she said softly. "Time to get up. Your ride will be here any minute now." There was no response; not a moan nor a twitch. She stepped into the room and raised her voice slightly. "Hey buddy. Time to get going. Your workday is just about to start."

Still no response. There's no way Barb would've just let him sleep it off without doing some sort of preliminary check of his condition. She could see his chest moving, not evenly like it should've been if he were sleeping, but at least he wasn't dead or in a coma. She stepped over to the bed. "Buddy," she said at normal volume. "Time to get moving. Shake a leg, dude. This ain't the Hojo, y'know."

He suddenly turned, and Jennifer saw something in his right hand move quickly. Instinctively, she jumped backwards. She heard a strange hum, and felt something touch her side. "What the hell--!" she exclaimed.

He rolled out of bed, and dropped down in some sort of bizarre attack stance. She finally saw what was in his hand, some sort of electrical stun weapon. She backed up; unfortunately, her choice in direction was away from the door. Jennifer watched the sparks fly from one terminal to the other. "Hey buddy, we don't have any drugs here. You're outta luck." Her eyes remained fixed on the weapon.

He feinted twice. Jennifer forced herself to keep her arms down. No point in presenting an easy target for him to zap. She tried to step towards the door, but he blocked her way. Another feint and then a lunge. She jumped back and it missed. "Why are you doing this?" she asked him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"No," he responded. "But I'm going to hurt you, you traitor." He lunged again, and caught her off-guard. She felt the metal prongs press into her side, but felt nothing. He looked surprised. She grabbed his right wrist and started pushing the device in towards his chest.

In between grunts of effort, she said, "I'm stronger than I look, buddy. You get that way shifting 200 pound former soldiers from beds to wheelchairs and back again." Without him realizing it, she had managed to manhandle him so that his back was pressed up against the wall. The prongs of the device were now facing him. She leaned into him, using her legs to drive her body forward -- to drive the stun device ever closer to his body.

Stupid idiot won't take his finger off the trigger, she thought to herself. Nimrod!

The prongs inched their way closer to the attacker. He grew more and more desperate. He spat in her eyes, trying to get her to take her hands off his wrist, but she ignored it. Using her legs, she pushed hard into him. Jennifer's hands stung as the prongs found their target. Crap!" she exclaimed, letting go of her grip and the man. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Jennifer wiped the sputum from her eyes, and the sweat from her forehead. She could sense that she was about to have a panic attack. She felt sharp twinges in the center of her chest. She started having trouble breathing -- she was beginning to hyperventilate. Panting, she struggled to get her heartrate down to something approaching normal.

She heard the door to the clinic open. His accomplice! she thought, panicked.

A female voice called out. "Jenny? Jenny are you here?"

She tried to call out to the voice, but had to clear her throat first. "Who is it?"

"Trudy Jensen. Ronny's sick. It's been 3 days. I was hoping that you could help--."

Jennifer was still panting. "Trudy. Go get some MPs. I think somebody just tried to kill me--".

The MPs arrived moments later, and dragged the attacker away. Jennifer had Trudy and Ron go into Room 1 and wait. She used the time to try and regain her composure. Focusing on a patient -- just getting her mind off of what had just happened -- would help her push the panic caused by the attack to one side, she decided. She had started her examination of Ron Jensen by the time the general had arrived.

"Miss Hodges!" he called out. "Miss Hodges! Where are you?"

"I'll be there in a few minutes, General. I'm examining a patient," she called out through the closed door. After looking into the boy's mouth, it was plain to Jennifer that he had come down with a case of tonsillitis. "Normally, Trudy, we would take a culture of his throat to determine which bug was causing the infection. Some doctors would then prescribe antibiotics. If we had any samples left, I would give you a sample pack of something to help kill the infection, but we don't get salesmen come anymore, since we don't have a doctor for them to sell to." She then gave her a list of possible home treatments for the disease, and told her that if his fever worsened, or if the pain increased, they should go to a proper hospital and seek treatment.

"This is all because of Billy, isn't it?" Trudy declared, with more than a touch of hostility in her voice.

"No, it's not because of Billy," Jennifer admonished. "Trudy, you need to let it go. You know that Barb didn't know that John was married when they started dating at the University of Wyoming. She didn't find out until he got her to move from Laramie. She was as upset at the news as you were."

Trudy hung her head. "Yeah, I know. I saw her tear into him when they got back to Jewel after moving her things from Wyoming. I was standing outside the house waiting." She sighed. "I keep trying to bury the hatchet, Jenny. I really do. I guess that I still love Johnny. We were high school sweethearts -- I never thought that he'd betray me."

"Does Anders know?" Jennifer asked, softly.

Trudy nodded. "I love my second husband, Jenny. My feelings for Anders are stronger than my feelings for John. But still --." She didn't complete the thought. "So, if not Billy, who then? Where did Ron pick this bug up?"

"Pretty simple, Trudy. Where was Ron 2 or 3 days before he got sick?"

"In Merna," she paused. "Visiting his step-uncle and family. Their boy had the sniffles --." She looked Jennifer in the eyes. "I feel so stupid, Jenny. I was so sure Ron got it from Billy. I feel like such a jerk."

Jennifer gave her a hug. "I won't tell if you won't," she promised. Looking at Ron who had not said a word because of the pain in his throat, she said, "No opera singing for a week, understood?"

He laughed then owwwwwwed. "Don't," he whispered hoarsely. "Hurts."

Jennifer peeled off a glove and tousled his hair. "Bed rest. Fluids. Salt-water gargles. I guess I don't need to tell you to not talk."

As she walked them to the front door, past a very anxious looking Comiston, Trudy popped open her purse. Jennifer closed it shut for her and told her there was no charge. Once Trudy and Ron were out of sight, Jennifer sagged against the counter. With the distraction over, the panic had returned, and she once again found herself fighting for air.

Comiston hurried over and grabbed her shoulders. "Are you alright?" he asked her.

"Ahhhh, no. Someone tried to abduct me or kill me." She went on to give him a blow-by-blow description of the attack. "I still can't figure out how I didn't get zapped."

He leaned to her left side. "Looks like you might have," he said.

She looked down and saw burn marks on the scrubs she was wearing. "Dammit!" she exclaimed. "These were my favorite scrubs!" She stopped. Oh honey, are you okay? It did zap me. Honey, are you there? Did it hurt you?

Comiston had a puzzled look on his face. He had noticed her lips move silently. "Talking to yourself?"

Jennifer got her eyes to focus again. "It's a sign of genius. That's what I keep telling everyone." She had to get rid of him, so she could poke around in her mind and find the symbiote's presence. "General, I want to sit quiet for an hour. I've got to get my thoughts clear again. Can I get you to come back at your usual time?"

Comiston furrowed his brow. "I don't want to leave you unprotected, Miss Hodges. I don't see how you can just slough this off."

She sighed. "I'm not sloughing this off. I was attacked. Almost seriously hurt. That's why I need some time alone right now. To deal with it, before I become permanently paranoid about this place. Put someone outside the door if you want. I just need quiet time alone. Please."

He hesitated then nodded. "There'll be a detail at this door 24 hours a day from now on. We can't risk you getting hurt." He gently grabbed her arm and led her to the naugahyde sofa that sat up against the far wall. "If you need to talk, at all, just tell whomever is outside the door and I'll be here in minutes. Okay?"

She nodded and tried to smile. "Thanks. I should be okay in an hour. What's yet another Do-not-enter compartment in my brain?" she shrugged.

Once Comiston had left, she started rushing through her mind. Are you there? Are you hurt? Talk to me, honey. Let me know that you're okay. Thank you for taking the jolt for me --. Baby?

She felt a presence rummage through her music -- her phonographic memory. Seconds later, in her mind, she heard a guitar riff with feedback. It was the Beatles singing "I Feel Fine". "Thank God," Jennifer whispered, and finally managed to relax.

General Comiston returned almost 20 minutes earlier than his usual time. Along with lunch, he brought two prepackaged ice cream cups that he picked up from the All-in-One Store. They studiously avoided talking about that morning's incident, other than Comiston's promise to find out what the heck happened. In order to ensure that the conversation stayed away from the morning's incident, he started asking her about the band she played with while she was living in Brookings. When she told him that they did mostly 70s and 80s music, his interest perked. When she started mentioning that one of the few songs that she sang lead on was a Bangles cover, Bell Jar, he confessed to having been a big fan of theirs back in the day. As he gathered up the food wrappers, she thanked him for getting her mind off of the morning's incident.

After dinner, Jennifer once again found Pokaifashta sitting in one of the west side seats at the bottom of the stairs. Something didn't look right, so Jennifer masked as she walked over. "Greetings sister," she said in their language. "You seem unwell. What's wrong?"

Poke's smile was a little forced. "You are probably already getting the medical information. That is obvious because you are never masked when you are with me."

Jennifer sat beside her. "That presupposes that I have a good knowledge of the normal readings for a female Wakira. Besides, it's more polite to ask you." She switched to English. "What's wrong, Poke? You really look ill."

"Your planet, I'm afraid. At first, I enjoyed the extra 8 percent in the day -- I allowed myself to sleep in. But it is in conflict with my body clock. My body is telling me that I should be asleep now. Which is another problem. The mission commander ordered that we sleep on the same camp bedrolls that dirteaters -- ground forces -- use. Not the antigravity beds that all Wakira are used to. That, coupled with the increased gravity makes sleeping difficult. When I lay on my back, I feel like I have a small child sitting on my chest. When I lay on my side, my shoulder aches after about one of your hours. I wake in discomfort, and because my body clock is telling me that it is time to get up, I have trouble falling back to sleep. I used to think of myself as being strong, Jennifer, emotionally strong, but an extra 108 minutes a day, and 25 percent more gravity is making my life miserable. Mine and a number of others in the crew. But there's more than that."

Jennifer unmasked and smiled. In their Seditious voice (the one they use to express humor), she said, "Isn't there always more with you Wakira?"

Poke chittered half-heartedly. "The end of the year is coming. For us, the last 8 days is known as Reflection, where we gather together with our families to not only spend time together, but to perform acts of service -- menial service -- to those who are of a lower position than we are. It helps to remind us just how the Provider sees all of us, and it helps us to remain humble. Humility is a cornerstone to duty, honor and obedience. Those of us in the military take turns getting Reflection off to be with family. This year, it was my turn, again along with a number of others here on the ground, and many more in orbit. This will be my first Reflection with my family in 5 years. It is troubling not only me, but also those who have been given leave for Reflection. I want to be on Paratanda to experience Reflection with my family. It is a little over 2 ninedays away." She lifted her gaze off of her feet and into Jennifer's face. "I am sorry to be complaining, Jennifer. I know that you are giving up far more than this."

"So, everyone is in a hurry to pack up and leave?"

Poke brought her left hand up to shoulder level and rotated it back and forth. "Yes. You and the people here in Jewel have been generous and friendly. You in particular. But, yes, I believe that the entire crew is anxious to be given orders to leave." She looked down again. "Not realizing that it means that you will have only a short time left with your father and friends." She looked back into Jennifer's face again. "This should not have happened to either of us, Jennifer."

"But it has happened, Poke. I seem to remember you telling me that it could not be undone. And that there was no second option. I'm it. And I've started reconciling myself to it. You keep admonishing me to not feel guilty about the bonding. I think that I need to tell you the same thing. You didn't do this to me. It wasn't you who stole my future from me. It took an impossible set of circumstances to create this most improbable of results. I am going to be the next Mother of the Wakiran Empire. Whether you like, or I like, or the Emperor likes it. It is what it is." She giggled at repeating the familiar line.

"That is painful, Jennifer," she told her in English. "Using my own words against me." She straightened out of her slouch. "When it happens -- when the symbiote appoints you as Our Mother -- I know that I'm going to be very proud of you."



Myka's conversation with his father late Friday night was far less confrontational than normal. Both men had obviously decided that they wanted to avoid the name-calling and other disparaging behavior. Myka told the Emperor that the symbiote had already turned orange, and that many of the mission crew had started referring to her as Mother. This alarmed the Emperor, but he realized that there was nothing he could do about it. He was resigned to the fact that his son had bonded with an alien female, and that, worse still, the female had been accepted and approved of by the symbiote. Myka decided to try and make one point with his father.

"One thing that continues to trouble me, Father, is that the symbiote has approved of Jennifer so soon. As far as I can tell, no candidate has been approved in less than 12 ninedays. Until now. We know that the symbiotes are able to see into the future -- the visions that candidates have upon the joining seem to always come true. My reasoning leads me to believe, if the symbiotes can see the future, that they feel that we will need someone like Jennifer sometime in the future. Though why that is escapes me."

"Your mother has never told me what her vision was. All that she has said is that it is the unspeakable that brings solace. Early on, after the joining, she would wake at night screaming 'The abomination! The abomination!' She has commanded me to never ask her again."

"Father, I know that it is your intention to carry out the survey directive soon after you arrive here. But before you commit to that course of action, please consider this: If the symbiotes have chosen Jennifer, and approved of her so quickly because they know that the Empire will need her, and only her, what will the symbiotes do should we destroy this planet and this species? What will happen to you? To me? What will happen to Mother? The palace. Capital. Homeworld? Would the symbiotes seek vengeance against our family and clan for going against their choice? Jennifer will not leave this place if she knows that we will destroy it. If you order the directive to be carried out, she will die alongside her father and her friends. Even if the symbiotes do not seek revenge for what we have done, does it not yet mean that we will face destruction in the future, simply because their choice to be the next Mother of the Empire was destroyed by us? The one fact that neither you nor I can escape Father is that the symbiotes have chosen Jennifer. An alien. Do we risk not only our lives but the entire Empire because of one decision? Please Father, if you listen to only one thing that I say to you, listen to this. Consider carefully Father. When I think of the consequences, I am truly afraid."