Chameleon 3

Jackson wandered out, checking the chronometer, deciding he’d have plenty of time to deal with Vaughn the mummy. It was probably time to deal with Maria Mitchell’s resident orphan, Honey York. Back in his quarters on the ship, he found his daughter, her friend, and his wife all in front of the entertainment console. Rianya looked up and smiled when he came in.

“I’ve been waiting. I thought you wanted to take me to the garden?”

“I do. Are you ready?

“Is there someplace for the girls to play?”

“No!” They are not to go on the station for any reason. They could be taken, or walk into a … the wrong shop, or even get lost.”

“Not even if they go with us?”

“No. Well, maybe. I’ll have to see what the atmosphere is these days. Last time I was here it was, well, unsavory, to say the least.”

“Quixote said it was ‘randy’. Is that what un-save-ree means?”

“It’s an adult forum,” he muttered. “Traders, auctions, thieves, gambling, females… I could go on.”

“Sounds like a fun place,” she said with a straight face. Her sense of humor was developing, slowly, but quite remarkable in her irony. Sarcasm she hadn’t quite mastered.

“So, you still want to go?”

“I’ll see who can keep an eye on these two and we can go.” Jackson checked the chronometer on his wrist, an old style of wearing the time and keeping a com button handy. If the doc could have spectacles, he could have a wrist com. It was more than a time piece. It was a conversation piece.

“If we go in an hour, we can have dinner on the station. Best view in the Orion Spur. Food you can’t imagine.”

“Or eat, I would guess.”

“You’ve been here before, I take it?” Jackson appreciated her banter. The change in everyone aboard reflected the placid mood around the ship the way the station reflected in its starlight. Rianya tussled against the chair trying to swallow her whole to stand up.

“I don’t want to say the wrong thing, but you’re getting bigger.”

“That’s your fault,” she gently jabbed. He grabbed her hand and helped her out.

“I’m going to catch up with my yeoman and see if she’s made any headway with Honey’s situation.”

“Maybe Zoe will watch them?”

“She’s on the station, at the Earth Embassy office. Maybe check with Rosalyn. I hate to bother Bailey again.”

“You go do what you do, and I’ll find a caretaker,” Rianya assured him. “Girls, Papa is leaving.”

Zalara and Honey, glued to the hologram, suddenly both looked at Jackson as if he’d materialized out of thin air. Zalara reached him first, jumping up to be held closer to his face. He snared her with one arm; she wrapped around him like a baby bear. Honey scrambled to her feet and bounced up to Jackson like a rabbit. Taller and heavier than his own daughter, he couldn’t hold the both at the same time anymore.

“When are you coming home?” Zalara asked. Her russet mop and her emerald eyes never failed to fascinate him, even as she approached her sixth birthday.

“I’ll be back for breakfast,” he said. The Dutch girl, with vanilla hair and azure eyes smiled, but didn’t speak. Rianya felt she still suffered emotionally, from the loss of her mother, but Jackson felt she was doubly shyer than before. She’d never been much of a talker to begin with.

 “Bye!” Zalara said, jumping out of his embrace, and springing away. Honey detached and ran after her.

“Tiny tornadoes,” he chuckled, and planted a quick kiss on Rianya’s cheek before he went on to his next task back on Novissimus.

~3~

Wearing his customary uniform with gold stripes and embroidered service ribbons, Jackson positioned his hat securely on his head and strode into the Earth Embassy. He waited patiently, queued at the security scan with a few other humans. Being a few centimeters taller than most humans, he couldn’t help but appear intimidating, especially dressed for serious duty.

The humans ahead of him focused on the activities, but those coming in behind him stopped with an extra arm’s length of space. As humanoid life forms were concerned, humans didn’t have a reputation as being a particularly handsome species, rather pudgy and hairless. The captain, however, was an exception to the stereotype.

When he stepped up to the scanner the younger, shorter male human hunched over slightly, averting his gaze to his task and not up to the examinee. The scan for weapons lasted perhaps three seconds, and he was cleared to enter. Again, Jackson placed his hat carefully for security and proper presentation. When it came right down to it, he harbored a deep pride for his accomplishments, and wore the testament to them without humility.

He found the immigration department quickly, and inside Zoe Stone, his yeoman, sat in a bank of human style chairs, waiting for her appointment to see the director. She stood promptly and saluted the captain.

“As you were.” Always the first to leap to her feet, he usually scoffed at his officers for wasting time, but today his chest puffed a little more than usual, his spine a was a little straighter, and his countenance thoroughly solemn.

“Captain, I’m glad you came in. I’d like to talk to you about Miss York’s situation.” He sat in the adjacent chair, tucked his hat under his arm and nodded.

“That’s why I’m here. What do you know?”

Ms. Stone scanned the quiet, dimly lit waiting area, like a spy wearing a trench coat about to deliver the microfilm to her contact. Reaching into her breast pocket she pulled out a small, clear, data tablet and handed it to him. Jackson studied the words and handed it back to the woman.

“Grandmother can’t come to the station, I take it.” Zoe shook her head slowly.

“She was notified months ago to come to Novi, but she claimed physical hardship. They offered her passage, but she declined that as well. I don’t like to say it, but I don’t think she wants to take guardianship.”

“Grandparents aren’t under any legal obligation,” he said. “But if it were Zalara, my parents would climb Everest to get her.” Jackson leaned back in the chair and squeezed his head in one hand. “She has to come with us to Earth, then?”

“Yes, sir. She can’t take more than a twenty-five-hour trip without a companion at least 20 years old.”

“I wouldn’t want to do that to her anyway. The poor little thing’s already traumatized, orphaned, depressed, and now her own kin can’t be bothered to come and meet her to take her home. She could have sent someone else if she’s really too frail to make the trip.” He stood up with a huff and folded his arms across his chest. “Is there any coffee around here?”

“I’ll get you some, sir.” His yeoman took off and disappeared, leaving Jackson alone with his own dark thoughts. He didn’t have the skills, time, or circumstances to parent an orphaned child along with his own, and another on her way. He was already drowning in an ocean of estrogen every time he walked through the door to his own cabin.

“Here, sir,” Zoe said, striding up with an outstretched hand and the most important coffee. “I put about 30 grams of sugar in it.”

“Thank you, that’s perfect.” He gave it a taste test and nodded.

“Anne Wallace!” he said. “I could make Anne take her home, and I could get her off my ship.” Jackson’s eyes danced.

“Would you really do that to Honey after everything she’s been through? Sir?”

“No, you’re right. It was just a passing thought. A bad thought. I can’t keep passing her around like a white elephant but Rianya’s having a baby in a few months. I know she’ll take care of her, but that still leaves me with two children to worry about.”

“We’ll work something out, Captain. I think Honey could move in with Bailey and Keith. She likes them.”

“Whatever we do, I don’t want her any more distressed than she already is.”

“Let me help, sir, leave it to me.” He opened his eyes and looked at Zoe, her country fresh, freckled face beaming with sincerity. He nodded.

“I appreciate that. So will Rianya.”

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, um, Mr. and Mrs. Stone?” Jackson sputtered on his coffee, then stood up. A tall, slender woman wearing the latest fashion in black business attire, held out her hand, then flushed. “Captain Jackson, my apologies. I heard your ship had docked, I just didn’t put two and two together. I’m Rose Lee, the immigration director.”