Metamorphosis by mosylu

[Reviews - 0]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer

- Text Size +

Devon didn't have to physically drag anybody from their beds in the morning, but it was a close thing. Breakfast was late and unappetizing, and from the looks Cameron was giving her, he would have rather had no help at all than what he'd gotten. She thanked him profusely, reminded him of the colonists' inexperience with actual cooking, and begged for patience--a process she was going to have to get used to, she thought ruefully.

During breakfast, she dealt with so many requests to switch duties that she resorted to announcing, "There will be no switching of duties. I appreciate that nobody is used to this kind of work, but it's all necessary to the smooth function of this community, and you will have to get used to it as soon as possible. Remember that duties will rotate on a daily basis. The only people who will stay on one detail are the work leaders, who know what they're doing and who will teach you. That's final. Please don't ask me again."

"Nice," John said, helping her down from the table top. "So about the people you're putting under me--"

She started to snarl, then recognized the button-pushing look in his eye. "You," she muttered. "No switching means no switching."

"Got it, but I'm not looking forward to weekend tinkerers who think they're God's gift to a tool belt."

"Opinion noted and filed," she said crisply and took a bite. "Oh, my god." She reached for the salt shaker in the middle of the table. "Did these things start out life as eggs?"

"That’s the legend. What I'd give for a bottle of ketchup."

Uly leaned forward. "Hey, Mom," he said. "When are we gonna bring the Terrians to see my friends?"

For what felt like the seventieth time, she said, "Honey, be patient. Julia and I have got to talk to the medical staff, show them your records--and don't forget that the Terrians won't take any kids whose parents haven't given permission." That had been an absolute condition. Devon hadn't forgotten the fear that had almost eaten her alive when Uly had been taken. She still wasn't entirely sure the Terrians understood the concept of parents and children--according to Uly, it worked differently for them--but they'd agreed.

"When are you gonna do that?" he persisted.

"After breakfast."

"Can I come?"

"Why don't you wait a little while, and let them get used to the idea. I'm sure they'll all want to talk to you later."

His face fell, then brightened with a new thought. "If they want to talk this afternoon, can I get out of work detail?" He was on fish duty that afternoon.

She chose something from her vast repertoire of Mom Looks--in this case, You're Pushing It, Young Man. He sat back in his seat with a sigh. "True doesn't have to rotate," he muttered.

"That's cuz my dad needs my help, stupid," True said from John's other side.

"Enough with the stupid," John said. "And about you helping me on the ship--"

"What," True said in a dangerous voice. Devon winced.

"I want you to join one of the work groups instead."

True looked like she'd just been sentenced to death by suffocation in Grendler spit. "What? But--"

"Do you really wanna hang around the ship all day? With a bunch of old jumpers and mechs?"

"Yeah," she said stubbornly. "I know those guys. I don't know any of the colonist kids."

"Those guys on the ship are gonna clear out as soon as she's fixed. You should get some friends your own age."

True slapped her silverware on the table. "All the kids my own age are stupid!"

Uly frowned and opened his mouth. Devon shook her head at him. One fight at this table was about all any of them needed.

"Did I not just say enough with the stupid?"

"I'm not gonna do it!"

"That wasn't a request!"

"But Dad--"

"True!" he said sharply.

She wasn’t a complete fool. She shut up.

He continued evenly, "You can help me on the ship when your group comes around to it. But you’re going in one of the work groups, and that's final."

If looks could have killed, he would have been dust.

"Jesus," John muttered when breakfast was finally over. They'd left Uly and True in the gathering space, where school would be held six mornings a week. The older children would join their parents on the various work details in the afternoon. "Is it me, or is my kid ready to rumble twenty hours out of twenty-four these days?"

"Gets it from her father," Devon said cheerfully.

He shot her a look very similar to the one True had given him during breakfast.

She relented. "Look, no matter how it seems, she's not possessed. It’s just adolescence hitting."

He said, "Like a hand grenade," kissed her, and went off to load the ATV with his equipment.

Devon thought, At least around here, she can't rob a convenience store with a carrot stick, and grinned. Although she’d told the court otherwise when she was fourteen, she was still proud of that stunt.

Every time during the morning that she tried to call Dr. Vasquez and set up a meeting, he was busy. Several of the children had come down with coughs due to some allergen or other, and a lot of nervous parents had admitted their children to the hospital just in case. New Pacifica General was full to the brim and buzzing like a hive full of caffeinated bees.

Devon tried to be patient, knowing where Dr. Vasquez's priorities had to lie, but she finally went to the hospital, prepared to follow him around until he agreed to a meeting. He must have seen it in her face, because he said, "I’ll give you ten minutes. If I don't show up in my office at--" he checked his chrono "--eleven-fifteen, you have my permission to hunt me down like a dog."

"You joke, but don't think I won't," Devon said. "Where's Julia? I'd like her with us."

He said, "Why would you need Dr. Heller for this conversation?"

Devon blinked. There had been more than professional status insult in those words. "She can give you a better medical insight into what happened to Uly than I can."

"Well, if you must." He turned away.

Devon didn't much favor hanging around his cubicle for the next ten minutes like a bored intern, so she wandered into the little cluster of cubicles allotted to the psychotherapists. It was like another land completely. While the doctors made do with the work tables and shelf units the advancers had provided, the therapists had wasted no time in replacing them with chairs, rugs, baskets of toys, drawing pads, and other tools of their trade.

She found Rita Vasquez unpacking a basket of toys. "Oh, Devon," the psychologist said, looking up from a stuffed purple elephant. "Come on in."

"This is nice," Devon said.

Rita surveyed her domain. "Much better," she said. "Did you need to see me for something?"

Devon pulled up one of the chairs. "I just wanted to see how you and your team were settling in. I know the facilities aren’t exactly what we’d planned, but--"

Rita folded the plastic crate flat and set it on top of a stack of empties in the corner. "I understand completely. Things just didn’t go as planned all around."

Devon rolled her eyes. "Now there’s an understatement." She rubbed one temple, thinking ruefully of the complaints she’d been fielding all morning.

Rita settled herself in the other chair. "You know, Devon, you have nothing to ashamed of here. Considering your limitations, you’ve done a phenomenal job."

Devon almost choked on her surprise. It was the first time anybody outside of the advance team had told her that. She stared at her knees until the hot feeling behind her eyes subsided. "Thank you," she said, when that was managed. "It’s--it’s good to hear that. It wasn’t just me, you know. I had wonderful people on the advance team."

"You depend on them?"

"Without even thinking about it."

Rita sat back in her chair, her brows raised. "That's an interesting sentiment, from you. I seem to remember a number of discussions on your reluctance to surrender control."

Devon ducked her head. "Yes, well," she said. "Around here, unless you learn to trust others, you're just screwing yourself over."

"And that's another unique sentiment," Rita said. "The wording especially."

Devon laughed. "John's rubbing off on me. He can be a little--blunt."

"You've become close to him?"

Devon regarded her. It was usually hard to read Rita Vasquez. She had been a therapist for close to thirty years, and had perfected that all-accepting, non-judgmental demeanor. "Yes," she said slowly. "We had more than our fair share of clashes--still do--but I would trust him with my life. In fact, I have."

"And a great deal more than your life, it seems," Rita said.

Devon met her eyes. "Yes."

"How do you feel about that?"

"We're not in session, Rita," Devon said.

Rita smiled, looking down at her fingertips again. "Sorry. Habit. Speaking of which--do I have your permission to re-initiate sessions with Uly? I do have two years, and a number of traumatic events, to catch up on."

"You mean when I nearly died?"

"That too, but I also mean his restoration to health. Not all trauma is bad, you know, but it all produces conflicting and difficult feelings."

"And you’ll also find out what to expect for the other children."

"Every child is different, Devon," Rita said. She said it so often it should have sounded automatic, but after thirty years, each syllable still rang with conviction.

Once, as a gag gift, one of the other Syndrome mothers had started a sampler with that phrase on it. Anne Jones had been a throwback, enjoying all manner of old-fashioned arts and crafts. Her daughter, Robin, had died before she was halfway through, and the beautifully embroidered letters tapered off into a ghostly outline right around the word "is." But Rita had still had it framed and mounted on her wall with her diplomas and certificates.

Devon sat back. "I was going to ask what the Syndrome children think of G889, but I’ll rephrase. What trends are you and your team seeing in their reactions?"

Rita smiled a little at the irony in Devon’s voice. "One of the strongest, especially in the older children, is disappointment."

Devon sighed. "Yes, well, they’re hardly the only ones."

"Not in the facilities. In their own state of health."

"I forgot about that," Devon said after a moment. "They expected an instant cure, just by coming here, didn’t they?"

Rita nodded. "No matter how many times we explained it to them, G889 and New Pacifica loomed large in their conception as a place of magical and effortless health. They’d get off the ship and everything would change."

"How are they taking it?"

"Not well, as you might imagine."

Devon leaned forward. "Rita. Listen. The planet will heal them."

"In time," Rita allowed. "Most of them. But--"

"All of them," Devon insisted. "I’m not being rhetorical. It’s not magic, it’s definitely not free, but any parent with the courage to let them go will have a healthy child by the winter."

It was the first time she’d ever seen Rita Vasquez at an utter loss for words. The therapist stared at her as if wondering whether she had any spare straitjackets in her things. Finally, she said, "Devon, I’m not sure I understand."

Devon bit her lip, debating whether to tell Rita before the meeting with Miguel. Rita was, after all, the head of the therapists’ team. Before she could make that decision, though, the screaming started.

Devon bolted so fast her chair went flying. She raced down the rows of cubicles and burst into the ward, looking for the imminent threat to life and/or limb. All she saw was Uly, with . . .

With a group of Terrians, standing there in the middle of the hospital like seven-foot corpses with enormous staffs.

Mothers screamed, fathers shouted, children cowered under the covers. Devon had almost forgotten how strange and wild the Terrians looked on first view, but she remembered now, very well. "Everyone!" she shouted. "Everyone, please calm down! They're not going to hurt us!" She remembered what had worked so well a couple of days before and stuck her fingers in her mouth, letting out a piercing whistle. Even that didn't penetrate the chaos. She gave that up and kept shouting.

Finally, the ward fell silent, except for a few whimpers and the sound of fast, terrified breathing.

"Everyone," Devon said. "Please, it's all right. These are Terrians. They're one of the groups native to this planet."

"What do they want?" Darla Ketchum quavered. "What do they want from us?"

"I brought them to see you," Uly said. He was white to the lips, scared and confused. The Terrians stood around him, stiff, their eyes flickering over the nest of humans they'd walked into. More screams exploded when one dropped into a crouch, pressing his hand against the wooden floors in a futile effort to sink back into the ground.

"Please!" Devon called out. "Calm down, you're scaring them!"

When silence was again restored, Dr Vasquez turned on Uly. "Why would you do a thing like that?"

"Because they’re gonna help us!" Uly cried.

Devon started, "Uly--"

He raised his voice. "They helped me. They took me into the ground and they made me part Terrian and now I’m all better and they’re gonna do the same thing for every kid here!"

Appalled silence blanketed the hospital. Devon put a hand to her head.

Finally, Darla said in a faint, horrified voice, "Part . . . Terrian?"

Devon looked across the ward at Julia. The look on the doctor's face agreed with her; they'd lost their chance for anything resembling an orderly explanation of the Terrian healing process. All they could do right at this moment was damage control, and the first thing that entailed was-- "Uly," she said. "Please lead our guests outside. Apologize--"

"But--"

She kept talking, low and level. "Apologize for the fact that we weren't ready to meet them yet. Ask them if they're still willing to come back."

"But Mom--"

"Ulysses."

His stiff shoulders sagged. "Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you."

He turned to his friends and spoke in the soft, trilling Terrian language. Ben O’Connor said in a low, appalled voice, "He’s talking to those things--"

The Terrians, Uly in the middle, turned and started for the door. Their footsteps were heavy and clumsy on the wooden floorboards, and their staffs clunked with every step. Near the door, one paused and turned to look at Lynnie McNab. He took a step forward, his head tilted curiously.

Ryan stepped in between the Terrian and his sister's bed. "You touch my sister and I'll kill you," he snarled, his voice shuddering with fear.

The Terrian stepped back. Devon had no idea how much human language it or any Terrian understood, but Ryan's twisted face and balled fists didn't need language. Uly trilled something low, and the Terrian followed him out the door.

Uly sat with his knees hugged to his chest. His eyes burned, but he wasn’t gonna cry, because he was ten and a half years old and just because he’d messed everything up big-time, he wasn’t gonna cry.

After awhile, a shadow fell over him. He put his forehead down on his knees.

"Ulysses," his mom said. "Do you have an explanation for me?"

"I’m sorry," he said, the words muffled by the fabric of his pants.

"Apology accepted, but I asked for an explanation."

He picked his head up. He knew that voice. There was no way out of this one. "I thought it would be okay," he said, still unable to look up at his mom. "They’re my friends. I thought they’d understand."

"Uly, I asked you not to bring the Terrians around until I’d talked to the doctors and the parents."

"You were gonna talk to them today," he mumbled, knowing it wasn’t an adequate excuse.

"But I hadn’t yet. And what happened in there is exactly why I asked you to hold off."

He screwed up his face, choking on the knot in his throat.

After a moment of silence, she said, "I’m still waiting."

It burst out of him. "I’m so stinking tired of being the only one like me!"

"Honey, we’re all the only one like ourselves--"

"I’m not talking about--" he floundered for the proper word. "--individualality--"

"Individuality?"

He steamed on. "--or being yourself or whatever, I mean I’m the only one who can do this!" With that, he leaned over and thrust both his arms into the ground up to the elbow.

As always, it felt like he was shoving them into slightly thick water. He knew that this ground was hard enough to walk on, but behind that knowledge was the additional fact that if he wanted, he could swim through it like a seal. It was largely a matter of choice--his own--which it would be.

Just like him.

After a moment, he drew his hands out and set them in his lap. He didn’t want to look at his mom. It bugged her when he did Terrian stuff around her. Maybe because she couldn’t do it too--he didn’t know. But he’d always tried to hold off doing Terrian things when other people were around, at least obvious Terrian things.

She let out a long sigh and sat down in front of him. "Honey," she said carefully. "Uly. Look at me, please."

He lifted his eyes.

She brushed his cheek with her knuckles. "You are the only one like you. I knew that. I didn’t know that it was so hard on you, being that way."

He played with a stone he’d pulled up from the ground. It had a fossil in it--a squiggly snaky thing. He had a real good collection of fossil rocks now, and Julia was always saying that when she had time she was going to look at them and put them in her database.

"Knowing that now, I understand why you made the mistake that you did. What do I always say about mistakes?"

"You can come back from them," he said obediently, but he wondered if his mom had ever had to come back from really gigundo colossal mistakes. She always seemed like she knew what she was doing.

"Exactly. Right now it’s very important to be patient and not go too fast with the colonists. They need to get used to this place. Don’t you remember how scary it was, the first little while? Before we got used to it?"

"No," he said.

"Think back to the first months, sweetheart. None of us felt like we belonged here, or--"

"I did," he said. "I belonged here."

"Uly--"

"I never felt like I was supposed to be back there. I thought my friends felt the exact same. I thought they’d understand about the Terrians." He felt stupid now. He’d never been able to tell them anything about the Terrians, but they were s’posed to just know?

"Well, they didn’t."

"No kidding," he said bitterly.

She tapped his knee. "Don’t be snotty."

"Sorry."

She let out her breath. "We’re going to have to help them get used to the Terrians. Show them they’re not--well--harmful, and--"

He looked up at that. "They’re not coming back," he said.

"Who?" his mom said.

"The Terrians."

She sounded like he’d hit her in the stomach. "Ever?"

He shrugged helplessly. "They said obviously the parents weren’t ready. They said they’re not gonna steal any more seeds--" He shook his head, remembering that he was talking Human. "Any more kids. Like they did me."

"What are we supposed to do then?"

"They said the parents have to go to them. They have to take their kids and go to them." He remembered how scared everyone had been. Max had screamed, and Angie had cried, and Lynnie's mom had thrown herself over Lynnie like she was protecting her from an avalanche or something. His voice cracked. "Mom, what if they die before that?"

His mom’s arms came around him. "Shh," she breathed into his hair. "Don’t worry. We’ll--we’ll find some way to fix it. None of your friends are going to die, honey."

She always used to say that when he was younger, that he wasn’t going to die. He’d always known different, even though he said he believed her. Of course, she’d turned out right in the end. But now, curled up in her arms, Uly wasn’t sure if even his mom could make this better.

You must login (register) to review.