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Emrys is the first to speak, and when he does it is in a tone of pure venom. “I wish I could bring that bastard back to life so he could be killed again.”
Atlas also curses, but mostly because he has now really involuntarily spiked his human suit by literally bristling with rage.
Their reactions confuse me without the benefit of words. I wish I knew what they were thinking. I know they are angry, but do I seem more pathetic than ever now? Was it better when they just thought I was some inept scammer with a murderous impulse? I think I might have liked it better then.
“You don’t have to keep me,” I say. “I just need a ship, and I can be on my way. Sheriff’s dead now, so my main problem is over. I can go and find a nice little corner of the universe somewhere and raise this kid on my own. I don’t mind, really.”
“You’re not taking my baby anywhere,” Emrys says.
“Your baby?”
“I have spoken with our physicians since the revelation of your pregnancy and confirmed what I had already suspected. The baby will not have the genetic material of the father. The infection, the sacrifice, it turns flesh. The baby will be born addicted to blood. He will be born mine.”
I don’t really care about what sounds like entirely insane biological processes. What I do care about is that Emrys is accepting the baby with unreserved approval. I feel a wash of relief running over me.
“And he will be mine,” Kronos says. I smile at him, knowing already that I could trust in his kindness and acceptance.
“He… or she, will be mine,” Atlas says, acknowledging the potential for a girl to be born.
His acceptance makes the others hurriedly they would also accept a girl, though Emrys seems less impressed by the prospect of a girl, which makes me think it will be a girl. Life… finds a way — to annoy Emrys. And so do I.
“You are safe with us. The baby is safe with us,” Atlas says. “Both of you will always be okay. Forever.”
I smile, relieved. I guess I should have trusted Kronos when he told me this would all be okay. I catch his eye and he flickers a little wink at me. Maybe I’m not in such a terribly dire situation, after all. Maybe, somehow, I’ve fallen on my feet. And maybe it’s possible to be properly, truly loved by three dominant aliens.
“Why don’t you have a nap,” Atlas suggests. “You look tired.”
The volcanic pools, and the strain of telling my story, not to mention reliving it while I recounted it, has made me quite tired. A nap sounds like a good idea. I suppose, in some ways, all my worries are over now. I can finally rest knowing that I no longer have to run, or hide, or lie.
Iwake up to hear my alien owners talking about me in a nearby room. Their voices are hushed and it sounds as though the conversation is very serious. I stay still, not wanting them to know I can hear them. The door between the bedroom and the sitting area where my mates are sitting is open. I suppose they wanted to keep an eye on me, but it means now that the conversation is getting a little louder, I can hear every single word of it.
“She’s been through so much,” Emrys says.
“Too much,” Kronos agrees.
“She shouldn’t have to remember that. None of it. She should be free to be happy.” Atlas’ voice holds a certain note of conviction that makes me hold my breath with concern.
“How could we achieve that? It’s not as if you can wipe her mind…”
“My species has developed a way to keep humans in simulated space,” Atlas says. “They can be made to believe whatever you want them to believe, and they are very happy. There is also the added bonus of them not being able to simply run away whenever they feel like it.”
“Sounds like a prison for the mind,” Kronos says.
“A prison is the wrong paradigm,” Atlas replies. “When you love something, you want it to be safe. You ensure that terrible things cannot happen to it. She is a magnet for tragedy. She makes terrible decisions, ones that could very well lead to the end of her and this baby. Look at the mess she has already made. A human has to be raised well in order to be responsible, and she is simply incapable. I am suggesting we put her somewhere she will be entirely safe. Somewhere she can live out her life with us without ever being in danger again. We can take turns in the suit. She will believe she is in the ideal human relationship, with a single husband who loves her, and a baby she never has to worry about being safe. We can give her everything.”
“Would she still be able to breed inside this simulation?” Kronos wants to know, of course.
“Of course. She will be physically unaffected. The simulation technology only affects the mind. She will live inside a contained environment with a set of assumptions that mean she will never question it. Humans have very simple, programmable cortexes. She won’t be harmed in any way. She will be happy.”
My stomach churns at the casual way Atlas talks about taking my free will away from me. I know he wants the best for me, but his idea of fixing me basically involves removing me from me. I am a part of everything that has happened to me, and I’ve never wanted to forget.
“Then I agree,” Kronos says. “She has been through far too much pain. She has to carry that every day, and when the baby comes, she will be reminded of how it came to be, how her family was taken from her when she was still too small… this is the only way to wipe away that terrible tragedy forever.”
“Then we are in agreement,” Atlas says. “It would be best to start the process while she’s sleeping.”
“No!” I exclaim, sitting up in bed. “I don’t want to be simulated. I don’t want my memories taken. I want to suffer. It’s the only way I know I’m alive.”
“But it doesn’t have to be that way,” Atlas says. “You could be happy in a way you cannot believe right now. It is going to be for the best.”
