Anne McCaffrey - Decision at Doona

“Hey, Reeve, here's someone for you,” he heard Lawrence yell and, turning, he saw Pat flying toward him.

Between kisses and incoherent monosyllables, Ken got the impression the voyage here had been horrible for a reason he was unable to fathom. The feel of Pat's body against him and the touch of her lips, the spicy smell of her was too much for him to pay close attention to anything she was saying.

“You've got to listen to me,” she insisted, pulling out of his grasp, just as a shrill shriek sounded right behind him.

Startled, he wheeled to see the stallion, groggy as he was from deceleration, lunge out of the ship. Throwing Pat to one side out of the horse's way, Ken made a frantic grab for the trailing halter rope. He missed, thrown heavily down in the dust by the force of the stallion's passing. As he jumped up, he saw someone flash past him. Hrrula, with speed and an agility he had not previously exhibited, raced after the animal. He snagged the trailing rope and, stopping with incredible abruptness, yanked downward on the lead, jerking the stallion's head down and back. The horse reared in protest, bucked and backed as Hrrula, going hand over hand up the rope, reached the horse's head to calm him.

Ben met Hrrula as he led the stallion to the stable and talked earnestly to him, with the result that Hrrula assisted with the rest of the livestock.

Pat, dusting Ken off, blurted out what all the women must be asking.

“Who are they? They're not mentioned in the reports. What happened?”

“The question is what happens now?” Ken answered bitterly. “What are we doing here, if they are here?”

“Oh, Ken,” Pat cried with a rush of horrified comprehension. “We can't go back to Terra. I couldn't stand it.” She clung frantically to him.

«Honey, get a hold of yourself, you're here – today, at least,» Ken tried to reassure her; anything to wipe the stricken look from her face.

“Ken!” Victor called urgently. “Translation, please!”

“Ken, don't go. Not yet,” Pat cried, desperately hanging onto his arm.

“Honey, later. Later we can talk,” and he pulled away to join Solinari who was trying to explain to three Hrrubans where he wanted them to put specially marked crates.

Ken had no time that morning for more than a quick welcome hug for Ilsa, who was then taken off to check crate numbers at the storehouse.

On the whole, Ken was proud of all the women and children. With no time for more than the briefest explanations, and no reassurances for their future, the women worked right beside the Hrrubans, smiling and gesticulating where words were not available. The children were trying very hard not to stare at tails that flicked out of the way of bouncing crates or stumbling feet, but gave no sign of fear. The last bundles, personal luggage, were being handled out of the cargo holds when Reeve, standing near the steplift, saw Kate Moody, the colony pediatrician, descending. She was having a time, holding onto the rail of the lift and the struggling child in her arms. Reeve wondered why the hell she just didn't put the kid on his feet. Then he noticed Ilsa waiting for Kate, a strained look on her little face.

When Kate reached the ground, she still did not release her charge but asked Ilsa a question. The girl pointed toward Ken, and Kate, grim-faced, plowed forward to him.

Her face was a study of professional neutrality as she approached, but her strong hands were very busy defending the softer parts of her body from the thrashing arms and legs of her burden. With a heave, she deposited the fierce little boy in Ken's arms.

“This, Ken Reeve, is yours,” she said with a great sigh of relief. “We've all had our turns with him and he is now yours, all yours. You'll have to take my word for it that it is absolutely unfair for you to turn him over to his mother now. Which is probably what you may feel you should do. The one thing Pat needs is a rest from him.”

“I don't understand,” Reeve exclaimed as he held the rigid little body.

“It won't take you long, believe me,” Kate retorted, her brown eyes flashing.

In wonder, Reeve looked down at his son's face. Solemn blue eyes regarded him from a narrow triangular face. The strong jaw was set obstinately, lips firmly pressed together in a thin line. The direct challenge in the child's expression was curiously adult and definitely wary.

“You probably don't remember me,” Ken began tentatively, disconcerted by the apprehensive rigidity of the young body. Kate had walked quickly away with Ilsa.

“You're supposed to be my father. They said they were turning me over to you as soon as they landed,” said a defiant voice.

The dead silence that followed was pregnant with childish challenge. There was no doubt in Ken's mind that he had been held as a threat to subdue the child and he resented this tremendously.

“And what am I supposed to do with you?” asked Reeve, trying vainly for the proper reassuring attitude. It was incomprehensible to him why supposedly well-trained personnel had descended to such tactics, poisoning his reunion with his son.

“Make me behave,” Todd replied flatly, jerking his chin belligerently forward.

"Well," Reeve began, hoping to redeem the situation, "I can imagine it was tough on a small space like a ship but for a while anyhow, you've got a whole planet to play in and – " he trailed off because the small body, which had begun to loosen, stiffened again. Todd looked fixedly over Reeve's shoulder. He held that position for a moment and then began to squirm.

Obligingly, Reeve let him down, turning to see what had attracted such absorbed attention. Todd made a beeline toward Hrral, who was talking to Hrrula by the corral. Reeve ambled after him when Pat, wild-eyed, rushed past him to intercept the child's line of march. For a march it was. There was definite purpose in the boy's attitude.

“Stop him, Ken,” Pat screamed. “There's no telling what he'll do.”

Puzzled but spurred by Pat's frantic concern, Ken started to jog. Todd had a good headstart and, before either parent reached him, he had gone straight up to Hrral, taken that worthy's inviting tail in both hands and pulled as hard as he could.

Pat stopped, shocked, covering her eyes with her hands. Appalled by his son's action, Ken swooped the child up in his arm, administering a sharp swat on the buttocks. Todd became an unmanageable tangle of arms and legs, flailing in all directions, determinedly trying to free himself from his parent's grasp.

Pat raced up to Hrral, her whole body portraying her apology and horror.

"Tell him, Ken, tell him. They say you speak his language, tell him,'' Pat wailed.

“My mate begs earnestly that you forgive the inexcusable attack on your person by our child,” Ken said as he struggled to control Todd's contortions.

A threshing foot caught him painfully in the groin and Ken reacted by slapping the child's face with a little more force than he intended. The boy went rigid, solemn, defiant blue eyes regarded him with stunned hurt.

“It is the nature of the very young to be curious about all manner of things,” replied Hrral graciously, flicking his tail around his toes. Out of the corner of his eye, Reeve saw Hrrula do the same. “Since your race has no caudal appendage, it is natural for him to wish to inspect mine.”

'"What's he saying, Ken? Has Toddy done it again?" cried Pat nervously.

“Fortunately he's understanding about the very young,” Reeve reassured her. To Hrral he expressed deep gratitude for the elder's attitude. Then he excused himself and he and Pat marched without a word toward their plastic cabin.

“He certainly couldn't know he was doing wrong, Pat,” Ken temporized as they walked.

“Oh, don't be too sure about that,” Pat contradicted bitterly. “If he wasn't the image of your father, I could swear I had given birth to a changeling.”