Robert Sawyer - Hybrids

“Yes, Mare?” he said softly.

“It’s all a crock, isn’t it?” she said.

Hak bleeped, but Mary ignored it.

“Look, I’ve changed my mind. About our child…”

She saw Ponter’s broad face fall.

“No, no!” said Mary, reaching out, touching his short, muscular forearm. “No, I still want to have a child with you. But forget what I said in Vissan’s cabin. Our daughter should not have the God organ.”

Ponter’s golden eyes searched for something in her own. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Yes, finally, for once in my life, I’m really sure of something.” She let her hand slide down his arm, and intertwined her fingers with his.

It had been six months since New Year’s Eve, and there had been no repetition of the visions. The magnetic field enclosing that version of Earth continued to fluctuate wildly, though, so there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t stimulate the minds of Homo sapiens in the same way again. Maybe, in fourteen or fifteen years, when the field reversal was complete, the people of Mare’s world-still no consensus on a better name for it-wouldn’t have to worry about a reoccurrence.

In the interim, though, Veronica Shannon, and others doing similar research, had become media celebrities as the world rebuilt, explaining what had happened…at least to those who would listen. In North America, church attendance had hit an all-time high-and then an all-time low. A cease-fire was holding in Israel. Muslim extremists were being ousted throughout the Arab world.

But here, on Jantar, the Barast world, whose field collapse had been over for a decade now, things continued as they always had, devoid of thoughts of gods and demons and alien beings.

Mary Vaughan had always wanted a summer wedding-her first one, to Colm, had been in February. But since Neanderthal bonding ceremonies were held outdoors, it was even more important to her this time that the festivities happen during the warm months.

The bonding ceremony would take place here, in the wilderness between Saldak Center and Saldak Rim. Mary had attended one previous bonding, that of Ponter’s daughter Jasmel Ket to Tryon Rugal. It had been most awkward: Daklar Bolbay, who was Jasmel’s former guardian, Adikor’s accuser, and, for a brief time, Mary’s rival for Ponter’s affection, had shown up unexpectedly. Even with her there, though, it had been a small ceremony, as was the Barast norm.

But Mary had also always wanted a big wedding. When she and Colm had tied the knot, they’d only invited their parents and siblings-simple and, more importantly, inexpensive, an event suited to their grad students’ budget.

But this time out, there were a lot of people on hand, at least by Neanderthal standards. Adikor was there, along with his woman-mate Lurt and son Dab. Also present were Ponter’s parents, two of the nicest 142s you’d ever want to meet. And Ponter’s daughters Jasmel and Mega were on hand, plus Jasmel’s man-mate Tryon. There, too, were Hapnar and Dranna and their man-mates. Because Mary wanted a maid of honor, even though Barasts had no such thing, Louise Benoit was on hand, as well. And, because he’d asked to attend-and nothing could be denied him during the celebrations of the thousandth month since he’d liberated the Barasts by introducing Companion technology-also on hand was Lonwis Trob, now a whopping 109, and only slightly worse for wear after having a mechanical heart installed.

None of the women present were showing yet, but they would be soon: generation 149 was on its way, and Mary was expecting, as were Lurt, Jasmel, Hapnar, and Dranna.

Ponter hadn’t yet arrived. It was traditional for the man who was about to be bonded to go hunting, procuring a food offering to bring to his intended. For her part, Mary had gathered a large quantity of pine nuts, roots, vegetables, edible fungi, and more as her offering.

“Here comes Daddy!” shouted little Mega, pointing. Mary looked up. Off to the west, Ponter had appeared on the horizon. He was carrying things in each of his hands, although Mary couldn’t yet make out what they were.

“And here comes Mother!” said Hapnar, pointing to the east. Sure enough, Bandra was approaching from that direction.

Ponter had said that double ceremonies were rare, but Mary had thought it so very appropriate: to be bonded to her man-mate Ponter and her woman-mate Bandra simultaneously. The sky overhead was cloudless, and the air was warm and dry. Mary felt wonderful-in love, loved, loving life.

Ponter and Bandra had equal distances to go, but the terrain was rougher to the west, and Bandra arrived at the clearing first. She hugged her daughters, then greeted Ponter’s parents-her own lived far away, but, Mary knew, were watching transmissions being sent by Bandra’s Companion. She came over to Mary and kissed and licked her face.

Bandra looked so happy, it made Mary’s heart want to burst. It had been ages since Bandra had seen Harb; her man-mate knew Bandra had moved to the other world, but Bandra had taken no steps to dissolve her bond to him-because, she said, if she did, he’d just seek another woman-mate. Perhaps, at some point, he’d dissolve their union himself-but enough about Harb, Mary thought. Today was a day for making, not breaking, bonds.

Bandra was wearing a backpack, which she lowered to the ground. It contained her offering of food for Mary. Mary had brought twice as much, but only half was for Bandra; the rest was for Ponter.

Soon-finally! — Ponter arrived. Mary was surprised. When she’d attended Jasmel and Tryon’s bonding, Tryon had shown up with a freshly killed deer slung over his shoulders; the blood streaming from its many spear wounds had turned Mary’s stomach. But Ponter was holding two large cubical containers-Mary recognized them as thermal storage units. She looked at him questioningly, but he just set them down out of the way. Then he hugged Mary, holding her for a wonderfully long time.

No officials were needed for the ceremony, of course; the whole thing, after all, was being recorded from multiple Companion viewpoints at the alibi archives. And so the three of them simply began, with Ponter standing on one side of Mary and Bandra on the other.

Mary turned to Ponter and spoke-in the Neanderthal tongue, which she’d spent the last half year learning, patiently taught by Bandra. “I promise, dear Ponter, to hold you in my heart twenty-nine days a month, and to hold you in my arms whenever Two become One.”

Ponter took one of Mary’s hands. She continued: “I promise that your health and your happiness will be as important to me as my own. If, at any time, you tire of me, I promise to release you without acrimony, and with the best interests of our children as my highest priority.”

Ponter’s golden eyes were beaming. Mary turned to Bandra. “I promise, dear Bandra, to hold you in my heart twenty-nine days a month, and to hold you in my arms whenever Two are not One. I promise that your health and your happiness will be as important to me as my own, and if, at any time, you tire of me, I promise to release you without acrimony.”

Bandra, who for her part, had been becoming fluent in English-at least those words that she could pronounce-said softly in that language, “Grow tired of you? Never in a million years.”

Mary smiled, then turned back to Ponter. It was his turn to speak now, and he did so: “I promise,” he said in his wonderfully deep, resonant voice, “to hold you in my heart twenty-nine days a month, and to hold you in my arms whenever Two become One. I promise that your happiness and well-being will be as important to me as my own. If you ever tire of me, I promise to release you without pain, and with the best interests of our child-our very special hybrid child-as my highest priority.”