Chapter Nineteen
“I want to hear more about your home world. More about Earth.” The words were demanding but his tone was soft and his blazing red-on-black eyes were almost gentle.
Lauren was so relieved to see him again, to hear his deep voice, that she didn’t care what he asked her. As long as he talks to me. As long as he comes back.
For a time the tasteless nutra-wafers had been brought to her by strange, emotionless creatures that scared her. They had flesh and gray skin like Xairn’s but they reminded her of robots out of a science fiction movie. Their eyes were dead—both the white and the iris were bottomless black pits and when she looked into them, she saw nothing. Nothing at all.
Pushing away the awful memory, she concentrated on the man in front of her. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your life, your…family.” He frowned. “Is that the correct word for the people you live with?”
“Well I don’t live with anyone right now,” Lauren said cautiously. “And I don’t have a whole lot of family—really it’s just me and my mom. But we’re very close.”
“You…love her?” He said “love” as though it was a word in a foreign language that he didn’t fully understand. It probably is, Lauren told herself. I’m lucky he speaks English at all.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, I love her very, very much.”
“And she feels the same for you?” He was leaning forward now, a look in his strange red-on-black eyes that was hard to define. Hunger? Need? Longing?
“My mom loves me more than anything else in the world,” Lauren said with unshakable certainty. “She would die for me without thinking twice.” And she’s probably dying a little every day right now, wondering where I am.
She could imagine her mother’s frantic, worried face, could picture the way she was probably searching everywhere to find Lauren. Everywhere but in the right place. Because how could she ever suspect what had happened? Oh Mom, I miss you so much! A sudden longing to see her mother, to hear her familiar soft voice and know that everything was okay, came over Lauren so strongly that tears rose in her eyes.
“If she has so much love for you, why are you crying?” He still pronounced “love” like a foreign word but the look he was giving her was one almost of concern.
“Because I miss her. And I know she’s probably looking everywhere for me. She’s probably frantic with worry and I…I’ll probably never see her again. ”
“It would hurt you that much to be forever separated from her?” He sounded curious.
“Of course it would!” Lauren blotted her eyes on his cloak and took a deep breath, trying to slow the tears. She knew from past experience that crying was a sure way to drive any man away and she wanted Xairn to stay. “I’m sorry, but wouldn’t you be upset if you were never going to see your father again? I mean, I know he’s really scary and weird but he’s still your dad. Right?”
Xairn looked away. “I feel nothing for him. And he feels nothing for me.”
“Oh.” Lauren bit her lip, uncertain what to say. “I…I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He shook his head. “It has always been so.”
“But don’t you…” Lauren hesitated, uncertain of how to phrase her question, afraid she might drive him away again. “Haven’t you ever had anyone love you? Or had anyone to love?” she asked at last.
“Once.” His deep voice was remote. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“It does matter,” Lauren said earnestly. “My mom always says that everyone just needs three things to be happy—something to do, something to look forward to, and someone to love.”
He laughed tonelessly. “Why would you think that happiness is a priority aboard the Fathership?”
“I guess it’s not.” Lauren twisted her fingers together. “But don’t you want to be happy?”
“I don’t want anything.” His voice sounded dead. “I merely exist.”
Lauren wanted to point out that “merely existing” was no way to live but she sensed this was no time to trade philosophy with him. If I want to keep him with me, I have to keep him interested. It made her think of Scheherazade, the heroine from The Arabian Nights, which she’d read as a little girl. Scheherazade had been married to a king who took a new wife every morning and killed her every night. But she told the king stories every night, stories that led into other stories and kept him too interested to kill her.
I have to be like that, Lauren told herself. I have to keep him interested.
She cleared her throat and smiled at Xairn. “Let me tell you something else about Earth. Have you ever heard of ice cream?”
* * * * *
Xairn listened to her speak, her soft, harmonious voice rising and falling as she told him about her world. She talked on and on, about the strange foods the humans ate and the soft white sands and warm waters of the beaches in the place where she lived. She talked about entertainments called movies and plays and explained that they read stories called “books” for pleasure.
The concept was foreign to Xairn. He knew how to read in two hundred different languages and dialects, including her own English, but the idea of reading something for anything other than information was a novelty to him.
Lauren answered his questions about books and then spoke about her childhood, growing up alone with only her mother for company. Much as Xain had had only his
father—the AllFather. But it soon became clear that their childhoods had nothing else in common. She spoke with love and tenderness about her mother, talked about how she had taken care of Lauren even in difficult circumstances. As far as he could tell there had been discipline, but nothing like the kind of punishments the AllFather could devise. Lauren had never known cruelty or hatred from the one who was supposed to love and care for her.
Xairn wondered why his heart throbbed while he listened. It was a weakness, he supposed—the same weakness that had caused him to come see her again, even though he had sworn not to. But still, he lingered and he listened, unable to pull himself away.
At last he realized the time. It was late—much later than he’d intended to stay. Already he had missed some crucial tasks for which he would doubtless be punished.
“I have to go.” He rose as he spoke and her eyes—lovely and golden in her light brown face—followed his movements.
“Do you have to?” Her voice was soft and pleading. “Can’t you stay a little while longer?”
Xairn shook his head. “I’ve already neglected several of my duties too long. I will probably be whipped—my father will order it done.”
“Oh no!” Lauren put a slim hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.”
Xairn shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” she insisted. “You’ll hate me for it when you’re being punished. And then you’ll never want to come see me again.”
“That’s not true.” Not knowing why he did it, Xairn stooped and placed a hand awkwardly over hers. “I take responsibility for my own actions,” he said softly. “I wanted to stay with you and so I stayed. I don’t hate you.”
She looked up at him with uncertainty and fear in her eyes and suddenly he saw how he must look to her. He was huge, hulking—monstrous. His shoulders were fully twice as broad as hers and his skin, which had seemed normal to him until now, was rough and discolored next to her smooth, creamy brown. And his eyes…his eyes were the worst of all. He had studied some Earth mythology and he knew what they must look like to her. A demon—isn’t that the word? She must think I have a demon’s eyes.
“You’re not a demon,” she said softly and he realized he must have spoken the words aloud. “I don’t think that about you, Xairn.”
The momentary lapse startled and troubled him. “That’s because you don’t know me,” he said roughly. He stood abruptly. “I must go.”
“Will…will you come back?” She looked up at him, hope shining in her amber eyes. “Please, you’re the only one I have to talk to. Please don’t leave me alone again with those…those things.”
“They are Scourge, the same as me,” he said, frowning. “They’re simply grown in the artificial wombs we call vats.”
“No.” Lauren shook her head. “They’re not the same as you. They’re nothing like you. I can see it in their eyes—they’re empty inside. Soulless.”
“So am I.”
“No,” Lauren said again, more softly this time. “You’re not soulless, Xairn. You’re just locked up tight inside. So tight even you don’t know how to find the key.”
“I have no time for your Earth metaphors,” he said harshly. “I must go.”
“Go on, then.” She looked at him appealingly. “But please…please come back.”
“I make no promises,” he said. The disappointment in her eyes made him add, “But I will try.”
“Thank you,” she said simply. “I’ll look forward to our next conversation. Maybe…maybe you can tell me something about your life.”
“I could.” Xairn laughed humorlessly. “But I doubt you’d wish to hear it. I have no pretty little stories of when I was young, Lauren. The only tales I could tell you—” He broke off, shaking his head.
“What?” she urged softly.
“Nothing.” He turned for the door. “I’ll come back again if I’m able.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
And though he knew she was only acting out of self preservation, he could have sworn that she actually meant it.