Elizabeth Moon - Rules of Engagement

“They—were married?”

“Oh yes. And very much in love, though I understand from Hazel that you do not value romantic love between men and women.”

“It doesn’t last,” Prima said, as if quoting. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, where the affection between mother and father, and parents and children, was obvious. “It cannot be depended on to make a strong family.”

“Not alone, no. But along with honesty and courage, it’s a good start.”

The screen flickered, and now showed a slightly older Brandy, stacking blocks with an unsteady hand.

Prima sucked her breath through her teeth. “Boy’s toys—”

“We value all the gifts God has given a child,” Professor Meyerson said. “If God did not mean her to build, why would he have given her the ability? They sent this recording to her grandparents; her mother’s father was a construction engineer in Gilmore. He was pleased that his granddaughter had inherited his gift.” The child pushed the blocks over, gave a dimpled grin into the camera, and stood up, dancing in a circle. Then her mother came into view, carrying Stassi, now a wiggly toddler herself. She reached out and caught Brandy to her, gave her a little hug. Professor Meyerson turned up the sound of the cube reader.

“—So we’ve decided to take them with us. Captain Lund says that’ll be fine; there are two children about the same age, and a couple of older ones. The ship has a fully equipped nursery and playroom, with all the educational materials you could hope to see, so don’t worry about them falling behind. It’s as safe as being onplanet—safer, in some ways. No bugs !” The woman grimaced. “And no weather. I know, I know—you like the changing seasons, but with these two if it’s not colds in winter it’s allergies in summer.”

Professor Meyerson stopped the reader. “That was made just before they rejoined the Elias Madero , about a year before they died.”

“Was there sickness on the ship after all?”

“No.” Could she not know? Was it possible? She glanced at Hazel, who shook her head. “They were killed in the capture of the ship, ma’am.”

“No . . . it must have been an accident. Mitch would never kill women—”

This was farther than they’d meant to go; they’d assumed the wives knew how outworld children were taken. Professor Meyerson said nothing, clearly at a loss to think how to put it. Prima blanched.

“ You think—you believe our men killed the parents, orphaned those children on purpose? Killed mothers ? That’s why you attacked us?”

“They considered them perverts,” Professor Meyerson said. “That’s what was on the recordings.”

“I don’t believe it! You’re lying! You have no proof!” She grabbed Meyerson’s arm. “Do you? Does your . . . your device show anything like that?”

“Heads up—” That murmur in Barin’s ear got his attention away from Prima. “May be trouble on the way—some kind of gathering across town—” A tiny picture flashed on the corner of his helmet display. Someone in a bright blue bathrobe or something similar yelling at a bunch of men.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Barin said. “Do you know what this might be?” He transferred the image to the larger screen they’d been using for the cube reader.

Prima glared at him, but turned to look. Her face paled. “It’s Parson Wells—”

“A parson is a religious leader,” Professor Meyerson said with renewed confidence. “Amazing—look at that garment—”

“It’s a cassock,” Prima said.

“No, it’s not a cassock,” Meyerson said, as if correcting a child. “Cassocks were narrower, black, and buttoned up the front. This is the variant of academic regalia which was popular in one branch of Christianity—”

“Professor . . . I don’t think that’s the most important thing.”

“But look at that—those men are carrying replica Bowie knives—and that looks like a replica of an actual twenty-first-century rifle—”

“Professor—we need to get the children and get out of here,” Barin said. “We don’t want a conflict—we want them safe—”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Meyerson flushed slightly. “Sorry. It’s just—seeing things I’ve only read about before—it’s quite exciting. I wish I had more time—”

“Not this visit,” Barin said. He turned to Prima. “Please, ma’am—the children?

“Come with me, then.” She was still angry, but clearly the view on the screen meant more to her than to the professor. “I want you to see where they were housed, how they were cared for, so you can tell their families—” She led the way down the corridor to the women’s wing. Through windows, Barin saw a garden brilliant with flowers, centered by a fountain—then a wall, then another garden.

“The children’s garden,” Hazel murmured. “The little girls were allowed to run about some there.” It was empty now. The scent of warm, fresh-baked bread wafted along the corridor, as Prima opened another door. “Kitchen’s down there—she’s taking us to the sleeping area for the youngest—”

Another courtyard, this one paved with broad stone slabs and shaded by a central tree. Prima turned, led them down a narrow exterior hall, and into a large room. Here a dozen beds were lined up along either wall. On five of the beds, children sprawled asleep.

“Here is where they slept,” Prima said. “This is the quiet time after lunch, and these younglings are napping. Prudence and Serenity are too old for naps now; they’ll be in the sewing parlor.” She led them on, to a room where two older women and a dozen young girls from Hazel’s age down were sitting, heads bent, over their sewing. Only the women looked up; the younger one stood. “It’s all right, Quarta. They do have families, real families.”

Now the children looked up, shyly, staring at the intruders. Barin smiled at them; he didn’t want to be a frightening memory. Two of the children stared at Hazel a long moment, then one of them said, “Patience—?” softly.

“Yes,” Hazel said. “I’m back. Do you remember your Uncle Stepan?” The child nodded, her face solemn.

“He wants to see you again, and so does your aunt Jas. We can go home now, Brandy.”

The girl’s face lit up and she dropped her sewing—then she looked cautiously at the older women.

“You may go with Patience—Hazel—now, Prudence.”

The girl ran to Hazel and hugged her. “I didn’t forget, I promise I didn’t forget!” She leaned back, looking up at Hazel’s face. “Home to the ship? Will Mama be there? Can I use the computer again? Can I have books?”

The other child, younger and shyer, had to be led from her seat . . . but when she realized she was actually leaving, she clung to Brandy’s hand and smiled.

The other girls stared, faces solemn. Clearly they had no idea what was happening.

Barin glanced at Prima, hoping she would make the necessary explanation. The older woman grimaced, but complied.

“Prudence and Serenity are going back to their own families,” she said. “We wish them God’s blessings in their new life.”

“But who will protect them?” asked one of the other girls. “Is that man their father? Their uncle? Why are those women holding weapons?”

“We will protect them,” Barin said. Shocked looks from all of them. “In our home, women can be soldiers or work on spaceships—”

“That’s wrong,” said one of the older girls firmly; she picked up her sewing. “It’s wrong for women to meddle in men’s things.”

Quarta reached out and tapped the girl lightly on the head with her thimbled finger. “It’s wrong for children to instruct their elders. But I believe, Faith, that you are right and these heathens will not prosper.”