Changelings (12 page)

I don’t think I want to see what’s in the fridge,
Murel said.

“Now then, children, have a seat and I will bring out my album,” Professor Mabo said. When she came back out, she was wearing a shawl over her ship suit and fuzzy slippers, as well as a pair of reading spectacles, an old-fashioned touch.

She sat down with the album in front of her and asked Murel and Ronan to pull up chairs on either side. Rory had to peer over her shoulder.

After showing them a number of creatures that were variations on lions, tigers, bears, and camels, she displayed a picture of two different sorts of lizard. “Now this is a Sorrysaurus,” she told them of the first one. “Guess what this one is?”

“Dunno,” Rory said.

“Me neither,” Ronan said.

Murel shook her head.

“Just guess.”

“Can’t,” they all three said.

“It’s a Sorrysaurus too.”

“They look really different.”

“It’s a chameleon of sorts,” Professor Mabo said. “It not only changes colors, it actually changes shapes according to its environment.”

“Weird,” Rory said.

“Not at all,” she said. “It’s simply a natural adaptation, quite practical under the circumstances. The world on which the Sorrysaurus lives changes not only its climate, but the complete environment of its landmasses from one season to the next. The first picture, in which the creature is yellow-green, is a warm-season Sorrysaurus. The second picture, in which the creature is white and spiked, is the cold-season version. Not only does the creature survive the entire year, but also, only one creature of its sort inhabits the same territory year round, which limits predation to some degree.”

“If you say so,” Ronan said. “It sure looks different, though.”

“Many creatures in the universe change their colors or shapes—for some it is a question of time. You are not the same shape you will be when you are a man, for instance, Ronan. Nor is Murel the same shape she will be when she is an adult woman. For others it is a question of season or environmental coloration. The Sorrysaurus is only one of the slightly more extreme versions. There are many others. I find them fascinating, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” Rory said.

Murel and Ronan both nodded cautiously. “How can they do that exactly?” Ronan asked.

“It is so simple it’s a wonder more things don’t change form more often,” the professor said. “We are all of us made up of various particles. The important thing about this—whatever the theory, whatever the physicists call them—is that all of these particles, relative to their size, are very very far apart. They have great latitude of movement. If they are somehow manipulated, by whatever science or force, to move in certain ways, the nature of the object or being they compose will also alter. Human beings have known this for many years before they knew about science. Always, throughout history, even before it was written down, there are stories of men or beasts who are first one thing and then another. Once, this was thought to be superstition, but I have made a study of the way life forms are altered, particularly on these new, terraformed planets, and I have seen, as you see here with the Sorrysaurus, that such transformation is not only possible but actually occurs.”

There was a knock on the door then. When Rory opened it, Pet Chan stood there.

“Dr. Mabo? The doctors Upfield say that Ronan and Murel are visiting you. It is time for them to return to their compound and go to bed.”

“Very well. Run along now, children, but do come and visit me again.”

“Thanks,” Murel said. “Maybe Rory could come up and visit us tomorrow. Would you, Rory? We’ve got a new card game but it takes at least three.”

Rory looked as if he was about to refuse. He was clearly miffed about the preference his grandma showed for his friends, but it wasn’t as if Ronan and Murel had tried to
make
her like them. And it didn’t really make a lot of sense that Murel could see either.

“Please, Rory,” Ronan added. “Marmie has some great vids, and we’ll ask Pet to make us some of her chocolate fudge bomb cookies.”

“Right you are, mate,” Rory said finally, with a brief version of his usual grin. “I’ll ask the folks.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, Rory,” Professor Mabo said, waving good-bye as the twins hopped into the flitter.

That night before they went to sleep, the twins had a swim and played in seal form, as best they could in such a tame environment.

Did you feel any particles moving around when you changed?
Murel asked her brother.

Maybe I do. Maybe hand particles turning into flipper ones or something, but I never really thought about it. It’s good she knows about this stuff and that she’s our teacher. And I’m glad she likes us because she’s not very nice to her own family, and if she didn’t like us, she could really make us miserable.

Yeah, but it might be better if she did that than make Rory miserable and think it was all our fault. I’d hate it if Mum or Da acted like they liked some other kid better than they did us.

Not that they’ve shown any signs that they really do like us recently,
Ronan replied.
Can you even remember what they look like, when they’re not on the com screen? It’s kind of hard. Sort of like their particles keep shifting around in my head.

He was joking, but it was one of those jokes that was too true to be funny. It was almost three years since they’d seen their parents in person, or been on Petaybee. He felt tears welling up and tried to choke them down.

But hey, who needs all that cold and stuff? Here we can make the weather any kind we want, we get to see all kinds of vids and meet all kinds of people. Important people are our teachers, not somebody we’re not supposed to bother. And Marmie has new surprises for us all the time.

Yeah, that’s right,
Murel agreed.
It’s great here. No wolves to worry about when we swim, or otter poachers even. Of course, there’s no otters, or track cats, or snow leopards, or curly coats, or even sled dogs or house cats. And the weather isn’t exactly real. And Marmie can’t change into a seal. But hey, Da can do that, but he stopped doing it with us most of the time, so that doesn’t matter, does it?

No way. We’re a lot better off here. Our parents were right. They were doing us a big fat favor sending us here.

Yeah,
Murel agreed.
That is all
so
true. Which makes me feel like a real head case because, aw jays, Ronan, I really really miss them.

Me too. I miss Petaybee. I miss the caves and the rivers and the otters and the other critters and Clodagh and latchkays, and I miss Mum and Da something terrible.

Me too. But they don’t want us there right now. Maybe when we’re better prepared for life and can handle ourselves better.

Yeah, like when we’re twenty or something really old like that.

I want to go home now. I don’t want to wait till I’m twenty.

Me too.

They didn’t cry. Murel crawled into her bunk and Ronan into his. Without talking about it, each of them rolled toward the other and held out a hand. They linked fingers and finally fell asleep swapping mind pictures of their favorite things back home. It wasn’t much of a swap, since they’d shared everything from the time they were born, but it was the best comfort they had.

CHAPTER 14

A
LL
I
CAN
say is that I certainly hope the planet knows what it’s doing,” Yana said to the committee composed of herself, her husband, Dr. Whittaker Fiske—the originator of the terraforming process used on Petaybee—Clodagh, and Dr. Frank Metaxos. Sister Igneous Rock, a geologist and one of the cult of originally misguided religious fanatics who had come to Petaybee thinking to worship it—before the planet declined their worship—was also in attendance.

“Of course Petaybee knows what He or She or possibly They are doing,” Sister Iggierock chided her. “We should praise Petaybee’s name for its compassion for those among us who need a more temperate zone in which to live. A zone where one need not dress like a polar bear and live in darkness most of the year, as we do now. Your children and your children’s children will be able to live in a place where they can enjoy greenery year round. The entire planet will have a source of nourishment from gardens and farms growing fresh fruits and vegetables—even a broader range of medicinal plants, Clodagh—than is now possible with our limited growing season.”

“That would be beneficial, yes,” Yana said, “
if
our children and their children were ever able to enjoy it.”

“Oh well, perhaps I should have said descendants,” Iggierock conceded. “These things do take time, even for a brilliant sentient world like Petaybee. It will be centuries—millennia, actually—before the new landmass extruding from the sea will be stable enough and cool enough for people to live on it.”

Dr. Whittaker Fiske cleared his throat. “That is not exactly true in Petaybee’s case, Sister,” he corrected her. “The process that accelerates Petaybee’s development also accelerates the maturation process. Once the volcanic mass surfaces, it will begin to stabilize. It will probably be ready for habitation within the next twenty years at the latest. Of course, with Petaybee it is always difficult to say. For a couple of generations, we’ve believed that the terraforming process was completed and that two large polar landmasses would be the extent of the planet’s habitable area, and that was stretching the definition of habitable. However, from what I’ve learned of Petaybee, you are all being more accurate than whimsical to imply that the planet is choosing to present an island, at the very least, at this time. As all of you know, our usual instrumentation is impeded by the electromagnetic fields emanating from Petaybee, from the sunspots currently mucking up our communications equipment, and from the extremes of temperature it is subjected to on this planet. Although we know that at least one volcanic mass is arising from the sea near the equator, we have little idea of its ultimate extent or what we may expect in the way of seismic activity.”

“That’s why I’m going to explore underwater,” Sean said. “It’s easier for me than for divers, and besides, all that equipment would need to be imported, as well as the personnel. We haven’t trained a lot of human divers here for obvious reasons. And if you all could see the stacks and lists of individuals and groups and whole displaced populations applying for immigration to Petaybee, you’d understand why we wish to know the potential of the new landmass ourselves before letting outsiders have a look at it.”

He began his journey the next morning, leaving poor Yana with the paperwork and such electronic communiqués as were able to reach them these days. They didn’t mind so much being cut off from the more sophisticated offworld amenities such as direct audiovisual contact between callers from space to ground or from planet to planet, but they sorely missed being able to talk to the kids. When sending the twins to Marmie’s space station, they had not anticipated being unable to have face-to-face, voice-to-voice contact with their children on a weekly if not daily basis, no matter the cost. Marmie had generously agreed to foot most of the bill. Secondhand messages and written notes were simply not the same. Yana was not the type to pine over anything, but she missed the children so badly that her appetite was off, despite all of Clodagh’s remedies.

Sean felt as if part of himself was missing, floating off somewhere inaccessible. His thoughts did not all want to stay in his head—they kept wandering off in search of the twins’ thoughts, but those were no longer there. No smooth rounded baby arms to hug him, or flippers either for that matter. But with them wanting to swim freely so much that they ran into constant danger, he and Yana simply couldn’t risk having them near. They were too precious, too important. He would have to free the planet of all of those outside dangers like the one the otters had faced. He’d have to look into this new development at sea and figure out what to do with those who wanted to exploit it. Best keep the kids clear of that one too. But he missed them.

Well, the sooner started, the sooner finished. He dove into the running river, free of ice but still chilling and powder-gray with glacial runoff.

Of course, he could have easily ridden a curly coat to the coast, but actually, in seal form, he swam faster than a curly coat could navigate the spongy tundra or the swampy banks where the channels branched and rebraided themselves before reaching the sea. Besides, this mission was a confidential one, and the fewer people—even their people—involved, the better.

When he paused for air, he enjoyed the wild lupine and fireweed turning the riverbanks purple and magenta against the background of a thousand greens. The river teemed with fish, so he could have gorged himself if he’d wanted to, but he preferred to take only what he needed to maintain his energy and not get loggy trying to digest too much food.

When he first pulled out of the water to sleep he was grateful for the suit Marmie provided for him. He had small caches of clothing along the riverbank, but this way he could stop where he needed to without worrying about that. Once he was dressed in the suit, he located his clothing downstream from it and wore that until he was ready to dive back into the water. He wanted to look as normal as possible to any people he might meet, and a shiny silver suit didn’t help him blend.

On the second day, he pulled himself out of the water and onto land that was part riverbank and part seashore. A small island lay offshore, perhaps two hundred meters away, but otherwise the horizon was coral-red with the setting sun, the water beneath the color of salmon meat.

Tonight he would rest well, because tomorrow’s swim would take him too far from shore to sleep.

He found a dry sandy place and curled up to sleep, but as he began nodding off he heard,
Hah! Father River Seal, why are you here? Have you come to tell otters that your children are coming home?

He opened his eyes and looked into a round brown furry face with bright black eyes and breath that smelled, pleasantly to Sean, like fish.

What is a river otter doing so close to the sea?
he asked the otter.

My question first! I asked first! Are the river seal children coming home? Is that why you’re here—oh, no, I suppose not since you did not expect to see otters here. You could not be bringing otters a message if you did not know otters would be here to receive it. So why are you here? Not that you are not very welcome. We have told our sea otter cousins all about our brave river seal friends who are the protectors of otters, and they will welcome you also. But why?

I’m exploring,
Sean told the otter.

Otters.

At least a dozen more otters had joined the kids’ friend, boldly standing right next to his prone body. Another half-dozen pairs of bright eyes focused on him from the water.

He doesn’t look so big now, the river seal man,
one said.

No, but he is very fierce. You saw him carry away the humans with cages, he and his family. He must like otters very much to have followed us all the way here.

Are you hungry, seal man?

Do you want to play, seal man? There is a nice mud slide just over there.

Their voices chittered and chattered in his head so busily he had trouble focusing.

I came exploring,
he said to the colony at large.
I want to bring my children home but I have to make sure conditions here won’t bring more dangerous people to harm them and, er, otters too.

He barely had the thought out, however, before they had plucked an image from his mind. One forgot to guard against that sort of thing when surrounded by otters.

You’re going to the New Home! He’s going to the New Home! Where the sea otter cousins go. It’s very far and rather deep for a river seal.

I should think it would be out of bounds for river
otters
,
Sean replied.

Hah! It is much too far through that salty liquid for river otters. We are not going there. We are staying right here.

Sean had been so absorbed in river otter thoughts that he hadn’t noted the arrival from the darkened sea of the other species of otters—the cousins of whom Otter was so proud.

Sea otters go check out the construction of the New Home,
one of these said. To the river otters he said,
This looks like a man. You are sure it is the father of river seals from your song?

“Hah!” Otter said.
Of course we are sure. Father River Seal and his family are close personal friends and protectors of river otters.

So you sing,
the sea otter said.
Does he come to visit you often? Does he need to be fed?

I am not hungry, thank you, Sea Otter,
Sean said.
I did not know river otters were here, or sea otters either, but I’m pleased to see all of you. I came to see the New Home. My people want to know what our world is doing out there in the ocean.

It is very interesting and rather tasty,
the sea otter told him.
We will take you there. It is also a bit dangerous, so we can show you where to go and where not to go. But first we all sleep.

The river otters chittered among themselves so quickly Sean couldn’t read their thoughts. The otter said,
You have no den. We could enlarge one for you. You will be cold out here although it is summer.

We could offer you our kelp beds to wrap your seal-self in and keep you afloat, as we do when we sleep,
the sea otters, not to be outdone in hospitality, quickly counteroffered.

I’ll be grand right here,
Sean told them all.

Well, if you’re sure,
the sea otters said, sliding back into the water, their thoughts washing away on the tide.

Good night then, Father River Seal,
the river otters said as those on the edge of the group disappeared into the riverbanks.

Sean lay down again murmuring,
Good night
to the river otters.

Hah!
Otter said.
This is not right. Father River Seal will be cold and lonely without his family. Otters will keep you warm.
And with that Otter snuggled in next to the back of Sean’s neck and at once fell asleep. Others, close family members including six of Otter’s brothers and sisters, his mother and grandmother, four aunts and two uncles, also snuggled next to Sean. He lay warmly immobilized in a living furry blanket for the rest of the night. He fell asleep hoping he would not need to get up and relieve himself and disturb his hosts or squash one of them.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
before school, the twins made it snow. Marmie had showed them how to do it, but most of the time they left it up to her. Now, however, Murel typed with one hand while holding her breakfast bar in the other. “How heavy do we want the snow?” she asked.

“Real heavy. Not a blizzard, but so it stacks up. And wind. Let’s have some wind so we can have drifts.”

“What velocity?”

“Doesn’t have to be a gale to blow snow,” he said, and scooped a spoonful of cereal from his bowl.

“I wish we could put some river ice on the waterway,” Murel said.

“Yeah, but it’s heated all the time. We could make a rink on one of the flitter pads, though. You can adjust ground temperature by pressing Control GT.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, it will be. We won’t even need skates. We can just skate in our shoes. We’ll have to shovel the snow first.”

“Good. I want to.”

That was all they had time to do before school, but by the time the flitter picked them up, the sky was white with snow and the flakes fell like broken crystals. You could tell they weren’t real flakes, though. They were all the same.

Their class with Professor Mabo was in a lab that had been set up near the school complex for her use. It was small but there were tables with stools and a desk, besides all of the standard lab equipment for biology, chemistry, and general science courses.

Professor Mabo looked up from the desk. She was wearing a lab coat over her silver ship suit. Her teeth flashed pleasantly as she greeted the students, and her large silver hoop earrings matched the ship suit.

Three boxes sat in front of her, two of them open and full of shiny objects, one closed.

“As you come in, please select an item from each box. Box A contains scalpels. The blades are attached but sheathed. Please do not cut yourself, as taking time to clean up your blood will deprive the other students of lab time and possibly contaminate your specimens. Box B contains hemostats. Box C contains your specimens. You may use the synskin gloves beside the box to extract your specimen and conduct your dissection. You will work in pairs, one specimen to each pair of students.”

Ronan, Rory, and Murel were the first students to enter, and each of them did as directed. Then Ronan lifted the cover from the large specimen box and his eyes widened.

“Nothing to be afraid of, boy. They’re quite dead. They won’t bite,” the professor said.

Dead frogs,
Ronan told his sister.
She wants us to cut up dead frogs.

Murel came to his side and peered into the box. “Professor, how did the frogs die?” she asked.

“Of old age,” the teacher snapped. “While waiting for squeamish students to do as they’re told.”