Grey didn’t just look tired. He looked baffled and utterly defeated as he sat in the narrow visitor’s chair opposite Baki Hart. His hair was ruffled from where he kept running his fingers through it and the fine lines around his eyes Emmie had only recently noticed seemed deeper than usual.
She stayed silent as she had been since they had been ushered into Hart’s office. Grey was saying exactly what she would have said and Hart wasn’t hearing him. If the Accouchement Master wasn’t hearing the captain of the ship, then it was unlikely he would listen to her.
Grey leaned forward, as if he was trying to underline what he was saying. “You don’t seem to be listening, Master Hart,” he said, his voice controlled and even, as it was whenever he was riding herd on his emotions. “We can’t have a child. Emmaline is my protégé.”
Hart nodded. “As I completed that assignment, I am aware of the mentor relationship you have with Emmaline. It is unprecedented, for sure. I don’t see that it is an impediment.”
“I’m not expected to live another twenty years!” Grey said, his voice hoarse. “I can’t rear a child to Emergence. I won’t be here.”
Hart blinked at him, his thin lips pursed. “Oh, I see, now, what the issue is,” he said and gave a small, amused laugh. “Actuarial statistics are guidelines, Captain Durant. The AI that determines the best parents for a child has completely different functions and criteria. It chooses the best people in the ship for each child.”
Grey sat back, pushing his hand through his hair again. The bafflement was back in his face. Emmie could understand his puzzlement. Hart was using normal words. They just weren’t making sense.
She cleared her throat. “Master Hart, are you saying that even though the AI that suggests mentor and protégé pairings is conflicting with the Accouchement AI, it doesn’t matter?”
“We don’t know that they’re conflicting,” Hart said bluntly.
“They are saying two different things!” Grey replied. He was trying to control his tone, yet it was strident, anyway.
“The AIs talk to each other,” Hart said, using a tone that sounded like someone talking to a young child. “Of course the Accouchement AI knows of the mentor assignment. That is why I am suggesting there is no conflict.”
“You want the child to lose a parent at a young age?” Emmie asked, horrified.
Hart looked surprised. “Of course not. What sort of monster do you think I am?”
Emmie couldn’t find an answer. Grey just looked at him, too.
“I’m sure the AI has taken that into consideration and for reasons we cannot fathom at this time, such a possibility factors into the child’s future,” Hart added.
“That doesn’t make it sound any better,” Grey muttered.
“You must understand,” Hart said, using the same condescending tone, “the AIs are very sophisticated. They process possibilities, outcomes and probabilities far beyond the human capacity to understand.”
“You don’t know why they chose us,” Emmie said, stunned.
Hart purses his lips tightly. Then he seemed to sink into his chair. “We can only guess,” he admitted, in a small voice.
Grey glanced at her and she shook her head in disbelief. “This is utterly ridiculous,” she murmured. “If we take the child, we’re exposing it to trauma and heartbreak for no reason other than a computer thinks it’s a good idea.”
“The AIs are rarely wrong,” Grey reminded her.
“But they aren’t totally infallible,” she shot back.
“You have the option of refusing the child, of course,” Hart interjected. “Another set of parents can be found for her. But—”
“It’s a girl?” Grey asked.
Hart sighed. “I spoke out of turn. You must forgive me. Tensions in the room are high.”
“It’s a girl,” Grey said, speaking down to his hands.
The sadness in his tone made her heart squeeze. She got to her feet and looked at Hart, who blinked up at her in surprise. “Is there anything more you can tell us about this insane decision, before we go away to think it over?”
Hart looked affronted. “Well, really….”
“Thank you, Master Hart, for your time and attention,” Emmie said stiffly. She rested her hand on Grey’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
He stood and she hurried out into the public foyer before turning to him and saying quietly; “My quarters are three minutes from here. We can talk in absolute privacy there.”
Grey’s eyes were still blank with shock and bafflement. He nodded.
* * * * *
It was the first time Grey had ever been inside the apartment since she had moved in. He may have visited the apartment when it had been Yuli’s. She didn’t know and had never invited Grey here herself. This was the one place outside the Bridge that was hers alone.
It felt awkward having him standing in the tiny sitting room, looking around blankly as he was.
She pushed him toward the easy chair. “You’re in shock, I think. Food and coffee would help.” She moved over to the prep area and punched in the fast-dial for coffee and a sandwich, both printed. Her energy allowance could withstand the hit—she never used all her monthly rations, anyway.
She put the plate and mug on the little table next to his elbow, then pulled down the bench from the other side and sat on it, facing him.
Grey drew in a slow, controlled breath and let it out the same way. “I never thought I would get to be a parent,” he said. “It simply wasn’t a possibility. Or so I thought.”
“Neither did I,” Emmie admitted. “Only the best of the best people are offered a child. There are lots of people on the ship who are so good, they deserve a child. Although, I guess this puts paid to the rumors about the Forum being where the AI gets most of its information about potential parents.”
Grey smiled. It was a weak expression yet it was there.
People speculated almost daily on what made the AI pick one person over another to be a parent. It was generally agreed that only the most morally upright and hardworking were chosen. As that applied to a great many people, the selection process was a mystery everyone had a theory for. The most popular theory was that the Accouchement AI lingered in the Forum, reading everything anyone added to their profiles and making choices about parents based upon their activities, beliefs and community spirit.
It was true that sometimes, the AI’s choices seemed almost prophetic and in hindsight, most people agreed the choices made ended up being good ones. Her own parents had been an odd couple no one had understood at first. But Anat’s drive and energy had offset Jakub’s gentleness, giving Emmie the best of both.
The theory that the AI used the Forum to assess people had waxed and waned in popularity over the years. Some people documented their entire lives on the Forum, with texts and pictures and a wealth of activity, all designed to catch the AI’s attention. But as Grey and Emmie kept their activities on the Forum to a bare minimum, using it only for private mail and public calendar functions, the AI clearly got its information from other sources.
Grey bit into the sandwich and chewed, a deep frown of thought wrinkling his brow. “I can’t help but think….” He swallowed and took a mouthful of coffee. She saw his attention switch to her. “Forget that for a moment. I suppose we should settle the obvious question first. Do you want a child, Emma?”
Her heart jumped. “I…I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Maybe not consciously. But your gut knows. Don’t think about it. Just answer. Yes or no.”
“Yes,” she said instantly, then felt her jaw sag in surprise. “Oh….” She let out her breath. “Yes,” she said firmly as the conviction grew in her. “I do. Do you?”
Grey nodded. “I didn’t know how much I did until it was put in front of me. Then, when he said it was a girl…I know it shouldn’t make a difference. Yet it does. I want the child. I want a little girl to call me Far, or whatever she wants to call me.” He blew out his breath again. “This is such a mess. I shouldn’t even consider it. I should tell Hart to find someone else. Maybe they could still keep you as the mother, Emma.”
“No,” she said flatly. “Not if you don’t agree, too.”
Grey put the mug back down slowly, considering her carefully. “Then that’s probably the next thing we should settle.”
Her heart had started to slow down. Now it leapt again. “Makara won’t like this,” she said carefully.
“That’s for me to sort out,” Grey replied. “As far as you are concerned, she doesn’t affect the decision by a single atom. Is that clear?”
Emmie sat up. “No,” she said flatly. “She does affect my decision. You can’t do this just half-way, Grey. It’s twenty years of our lives and I should have your undivided attention for those years. Neither of us gets to keep any of our old lives while we’re parents.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to tell me I must give up Makara if we do this?”
Emmie braced herself. “Yes.”
“Were your parents a couple, Emmie?”
She flinched. She should have seen this coming. “In the beginning, no, I don’t think so. Toward the end, I think they became a pair. I don’t think either of them meant to. It just happened.”
“Mine were,” Grey said. “From the very start. They liked each other immensely. By the time I emerged, they were deeply in love. They’re still together, even now.” His gaze met hers. “We can’t be a couple, Emma.”
She rubbed her thumb over the table top, working at a stain that had never been removed. It had eaten into the faux wood, a crimson blot. The pulse in her neck was throbbing painfully. “I suppose it…makes sense.”
“I won’t do that to you,” he said, his voice very low. “If we are going to consider this at all, then we have to make allowances for whatever is going to happen to me. We’d be irresponsible if we didn’t. I still don’t know if I can do that to a child—take away her parent. If I do, I can minimize the damage and that includes protecting you as much as I can, too.”
“Put like that, perhaps this isn’t a good idea,” Emmie murmured. Her chest was aching and there was a throbbing behind her eyes. “She would be better off with two parents who can rear her to Emergence, even if they’re not the best parents she could have.”
Grey sighed again. “Except I want her in my life. Is it so terribly selfish?” He looked at her as if he really wanted her to tell him what she thought.
“If you are selfish, then so am I. I just want to…to love her. To protect her and give her the very best start I can.”
Grey put his elbow on the table, next to the half-eaten sandwich. He propped his chin on his fist. His gaze became unfocused. “Perhaps that’s why we should do it. Besides, I can’t help but think…” He looked at her again. “I’m grasping at straws. I know. But I can’t help thinking that if the Accouchement AI sees fit to give me a child, then maybe the mentoring AI has it wrong. Maybe I’m not supposed to die as soon as it thinks I am.”
It was hope. That was the wistful expression in his eyes. For the first time in nearly ten years, Grey had hope.
“I think you should remind yourself of that every single day,” Emmie said firmly. “If we do this, then we do it properly. No half-measures just in case, no provisos. If we hesitate or fail to commit properly it will ruin it for her.”
“You mean, act as if we’re both going to live to a hundred and twenty, just like everyone else?”
“Plan for the worst and live like the best is ours. It’s the only way we can give the little girl what she needs from parents,” Emmie pointed out. “We can’t let anything that is under our control ruin her childhood.”
“And when I die?” His voice was harsh.
“If we love her enough, if we give her even a few years of perfect childhood, then…” Emmie struggled to say it. “Then I will make sure the rest of her childhood is the best it can be.”
Grey sat up, his arm straightening out. “We’re going to do this, aren’t we?” He sounded surprised. The stronger emotion, the one that colored his voice, was hope.
Emmie didn’t think she was as certain as him. She knew she could never do anything to destroy that tiny seed of hope, though. “Yes, I think we are,” she replied.
* * * * *
Once the decision was made, things happened very quickly. Her life was usually a whirlwind of decisions and actions. Now it skewed into a different sphere altogether. The decision on who would be the primary caregiver was a pragmatic one. “I can’t step down as Captain,” Grey said. “It would be too disruptive on top of everything else we’re asking the ship to accept. After…later on…you will be captain and you can get all the help you need to raise her.”
For the same reasons, Grey couldn’t move into family quarters somewhere on the ship. His job was too demanding. The private quarters on the Bridge were expanded, taking over the space from adjoining rooms and offices, to accommodate all the resources needed to rear a child.
The Accouchement staff plied them with daily demands and questions, along with a deadline that was non-negotiable. “Children have never waited to be born,” Hart said jovially. “You must get used to the way a child will rearrange your timetables, right from the start.”
The medics in the Accouchement wing adjusted Emmie’s hormones, so her breasts swelled and became tender. One morning she awoke to find the front of her nightgown damp. She was lactating.
When she reported it to the medics it set off a flurry of activity and they were told to present themselves at the Accouchement wing that afternoon.
Fear showed in Grey’s eyes when she told him.
“Remember, all in,” she said gently.
His fear faded. He nodded. “Yes. All in,” he repeated. “I’ll have Leanne clear our schedules.”
That afternoon, Victoria Greytore was placed into their arms and they were sent home with their baby girl.