al·lo·pa·ren·ting noun
from allos “other, different”, cognate with alius “other,” from root *al- “beyond.” + from parentem (nominative parens) “father or mother, ancestor,” noun use of present participle of parire “bring forth, give birth to, produce,” from root *pere- “to produce, bring forth.” Parental behaviour towards infants and young from non-parents
His weight is comforting.
The glaring, artificial lights hurt my eyes. The air is pure, tasteless. Unnatural. There’s a slight aroma to it, despite the artifice. Flowery perfume, perhaps? I’m not sure. Further away, deeper in the facility, I can sense plants and small creatures. Insects, mostly, the kind that follow plants wherever they may be, even on space stations such as this. And hundreds of people, all of them magically sensitive to some degree. Their life radiates in tandem with their magic—some, harmoniously, others discordant.
I let out a ragged sigh, blinking rapidly.
I look down at his face. He’s handsome, in his own terran way. The combed back hair looks good, as does the simple, yet colourful clothing I found for him. I follow his eyes as he pivots in my arms, taking in the new environment. Everything here is white on white, with lines segmenting sections of the wall, ceiling, and floor. The floor is covered in a type of rubber matting, which a cleaning robot quietly glides down seemingly at random, picking up what little dirt and dust it can find. Viewports are set at regular intervals along the wall, showing us the vast starry expanse of space on the one side, and the brightly coloured atmosphere of Truoth on the other, with its ever-shifting gas clouds.
Looming above us, behind the reception desk, is a painting of a stern-looking erelan, her posture and expression meant to convey authority and grace. He looks up at it, eyes wide. A plaque reads Chancellor Amnestria Etherwind in all Coalition languages. I frown. When did she become chancellor of PERL?
Have I been gone so long? So many changes in so little time.
“Okay!” the receptionist exclaims softly in Aeyan Common.
I return my attention to the desk. The receptionist’s hair is black with a tint of blue, cropped short in a terran style. His clothing is also representative of terran formal wear, though the fit and the style implies an expensive taste, with crisp, clear colours and gold trim along the collar, cuffs and the placket of his vest.
“Okay,” he repeats as he looks up at me, “Sorry about that. How can I help you?”
He smiles insincerely at us, his eyes darting around judgmentally. His translator is advanced and appears terran in style, if not in make.
“I’d like to submit an unregistered juvenile recondite for education,” I respond in Erelan Imperial.
A light on his translator blinks as I speak.
“Of course! Is that them now?”
He gestures to the child in my hands. I nod and turn him towards the receptionist, my hands holding him up by the armpits. I set him down on the desk, allowing him to sit so his short legs dangle over the lip.
In a childish tone, the receptionist says, “Well, hi there…” His tone becomes formal as he looks up at me. “…name?”
I smile.
“Benjamin.”
The receptionist turns back to address Benjamin. “…Benjamin!”
Benjamin stares, eyes wide and slack jawed at the receptionist. The indicator on the smallover-the-ear translator I purchased for him blinks rapidly.
“How are you today?” the receptionist asks, his voice pleasant but strained.
Benjamin continues to stare. He turns to look up at me, his movements slow, deliberate. I smile and nod. Benjamin turns back. The receptionist's eyes dart between myself and the child, a wide, pained smile on his face.
“I’m Benney,” he responds in Terranglo, his voice soft and high-pitched.
The receptionist chuckles softly.
“Not what I asked…” he mutters.
Louder, he says, “Well, Benney, my name is Y’vo.”
He gestures to a name tag attached to his lapel, written in Terranglo in large print, and other languages in smaller print underneath.
“Welcome to PERL! I hope you’ll like it here just as much as me.”
Y’vo boops Benney lightly on the nose. Benney flinches. He puts his hands over his face, hiding a smile. He drops his hands and twists to look up at me, his expression bright. I smile back warmly.
“And how did you get here, Benney?”
Benney kicks his feet back and forth. He looks around curiously.
“‘paceship…” he mumbles in a distracted voice.
“How nice…”
Y’vo turns his attention to me, his tone formal and serious.
“You his guardian?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Parents?”
“He’s an orphan.”
“Hmm…” he mumbles, tone full of doubt.
He looks back at Benney. Benney catches Y’vo looking at him and grins sheepishly. Y’vo flashes a crooked smile. Y’vo sighs and leans back, his eyes on the datapad propped up in front of him.
“Alright, well, the finder's fee is three hundred and sixty thousand credits,” he says, tapping the screen. “I’ll get it ready and you can be on your way.”
“That’s okay, you can keep it—for the child.”
“Huh?” he says, looking up at me. “I mean—” He clears his throat. “What do you mean? You don’t want the reward?”
I shake my head.
“Put it aside for the child, for when he’s older.”
Waves of calm, content energy lap around me. Benney mumbles and hums to himself as he continues to observe the room. I lock eyes with Y’vo.
“He’ll need it, I think.”
Y’vo stares at me, a frown on his lips, eyebrows high.
“Uh, okay—” He clears his throat, blinking rapidly. “Yeah, okay, no problem. I’ll just—I’ll just put a note in the system.”
He bends over the datapad.
“May I have a moment with the child before I go?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be here,” he responds with a nervous chuckle.
“Come, Benney,” I say to him, picking him up by the armpits.
He utters a surprised huff. I hold him to my chest and walk a couple of metres away down the boarding tunnel. I put him down on the rubber flooring and kneel down in front of him.
“I’m leaving soon,” I tell him. “Remember, these people will take care of you and keep you safe, but it’s up to you to stay true to yourself.”
He stares up at me, eyes shining with tears. I cup the side of his face with my hand.
“No matter what happens—what they tell you to do, what they say you are or what you can be—only you can decide who you truly are.”
Tears start rolling down his cheeks, and his bottom lip trembles. He lets out short, fragmented sniffles.
“Oh, I know, I know…” I whisper as I move toward him and pull him into a hug. “I’m sad too. I truly wish I could take care of you myself.”
He lets out an awful sob.
“But I can’t, I really can’t.”
His tears dampen the folds of my cloak as he tightens his grip on it. My hand softly brushes his hair. A new voice reverberates down the hallway, incoherently discussing something with the receptionist. Benney’s sobs slow, then quiet.
“Ma’am?” says a voice behind me.
I turn to face another aeyan, who is leaning over to meet me at eye level. She wears a similar uniform as Y’vo. Her magenta-tinted hair is cut into a short bob tucked behind pointed ears. She smiles at me—still formal in nature, but much more practised and sincere than Y’vo’s.
“I’m here to take Benney to the nursery,” she says in a warm, comforting voice. “If you’re ready, of course.”
She smiles crookedly and leans back.
“Yes. Yes, we’re ready,” I reply.
I turn back to look at Benney. I move him away gently and lift his chin, so his eyes meet mine.
“I promise I’ll visit,” I tell him as I wipe the tears from his eyes, “And I always keep my promises. Okay?”
He nods sadly. I take a step back and stand up. Benney holds his arms close together to his chest, his eyes trained on me. The nursery attendant glances in my direction. I nod back at her.
“Benney?” she says in the same soft, comforting voice.
His tired, red eyes turn to look at her.
“My name is Cycne. I’m a teaching assistant here at PERL,” she explains as she leans over again. “That means I help our wonderful teachers here, and make sure you have the best experience.”
She smiles as before, full of warmth, yet somehow shallow. She extends her hand out.
“If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to your new home, okay?”
She smiles so widely that her eyes squint. Benney looks up at me, eyes wide and slack jawed. I smile warmly and nod.
He stares at me.
He turns and slowly makes his way toward Cycne. He lifts his hand as he reaches her. She takes it into her own, and they head away from me, toward the reception desk.
I did not lie to him. I’m not able to take care of him—not directly, of course.
Benney glances at me as the two of them approach the hallway branching off from the reception. I wave lightly at him. He disappears out of sight.
Benney reminds me of them—of my girls. It was the right decision to relinquish them to the community. I know it’s something terrans look down upon, but I agree with my people on this. It’s better to raise children as a community, especially when the biological parents are unable to do so directly. And I can no more take care of my girls than I can take care of Benney. Wandering as I do is dangerous, and I must wander—no one must know who, or what, I am.
But I’ve been gone long enough. No one will remember me. I’m sure that my presence for the last two millennia has been inconsequential. Yes, I was away for longer periods of time during previous cycles. But so much has changed, so quickly. The terrans, the invasions, all of it—it’s too much. My reaction to New Kiplar‘s emotional state is evidence enough of that. I’m still not sure if what I felt was real or not, if my instincts were correct—not entirely. There could be something else going on, something more sinister and deliberate than terran colonisation to explain what I experienced in New Kiplar‘s Æther.
However, I can’t have my judgement clouded by my own doubts and reservations. If I’m going to find out the truth, it’s going to be where I’m comfortable. Somewhere familiar.
Somewhere like home.
Y’vo throws me a sly grin and returns his attention to the datapad.
I throw my head hood up and make my way down the boarding tunnel.