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They'd known she was coming for weeks, because one day the comm had chimed – a waiting message with a live speaker on the other end – and it was Councilor Ephraim. Tano's stomach had been turned to ice on seeing his face. The air was stolen from Tano's lungs and the soft 'oh' that emerged was strangled.
"I have good news," he hastened to say. "Good news," he repeated more softly as Farai joined the call. She'd left it to Tano when she didn't know who it was, then joined on the basis of Tano's reaction. "Ayda is coming home. She's fine. She transferred to our transport at Port FreeCommerce along with Ratthi, Gurathin, Pin-Lee, and a refugee from the Corporation Rim who helped her escape. The people we know are in good health. The refugee has some injuries."
"Ayda is fine?" Tano had asked, swallowing around a dry mouth. It was something that bore repeating. Tano felt a little guilty for ignoring the others, but Ayda was the one Tano lived with, had married, parented children with. Ayda was Tano's. The rest, no doubt equally loved, belonged to others.
"Ayda is fine," he said in the same soft, reassuring voice.
Farai had made a noise and started crying, then rushed over to hug Tano in her relief. One of the children had asked what was wrong and they'd explained and by the time they were done with that, they had questions for the patiently waiting Ephraim about every detail he had. He hadn't known much, but he had the estimated arrival date which was why, weeks later, they were on Preservation Station waiting for Ayda to come back to them.
"Ayda!" Farai gripped Tano hard around the waist because she couldn't yet take her wife into her arms. They were sitting together, arm in arm, sharing the connection they'd made with Ayda's ship shortly after it had exited the wormhole. Tano huffed out a breath and just looked at Ayda, savoring the first live image Tano had seen of her in so long.
Ayda looked tired and worn and relieved to see them, but there was less energy in it than Tano would have expected after so long apart. Maybe that was just fatigue, but after weeks in the wormhole, still being tired seemed odd. She should have had time to rest. "Farai. Tano." The three of them spent long seconds drinking one another in, sitting with the moment and knowing they were at least in the same star system now – so far away, so close. Farai's arm relaxed a little even as tears slowly streaked her cheeks.
"It's so good to see you," Tano said, narrowly leaving off the 'again'. Because for a long time there, a seeming eternity, they hadn't known if they would. Ever. She'd been snatched by the same company that was willing to kill the entire survey team and did kill thirty-four members of DeltFall. The possibility they wouldn't kill her, too, was frighteningly small. Tano and Farai both had been counseled on managing their expectations and the understandable stress of being unable to do anything. But that was over. Here she was.
"It's just us," Farai said. She smiled brokenly through her tears. "Everyone else is home. We thought, maybe, you'd like to take it stages."
Ayda's shoulders relaxed a bit and Tano noticed, realized rather, that the lack of overt enthusiasm wasn't fatigue. It was guardedness. Ayda was relieved not to have to see the rest of her family.
"That's probably wise," Ayda said. "All of us- All the survey team, will need some time to adjust. I have been told there is considerable media interest."
'Us' wasn't her family. Tano blinked at that and nodded slow acceptance despite reeling at the difference. Things had changed. Ayda had been gone nearly half a year from them. It was only sensible.
Farai drew in a short, quick breath, having noticed the same, but like Tano, she didn't comment on it. She swallowed and said, "There- there is. We've already been asked for an interview. We made," she shook her head and waved a hand vaguely, "general statements, how much we missed you, how glad we were to have you back, that sort of thing." Her voice softened. "And we are. So, so glad. When will we-"
She hesitated. Ayda had tilted her head, eyes distant on some other communication. It was peculiar that such a private moment would be interrupted, but perhaps Ayda had forgotten to tag the conversation properly. It was either that or- But no, Tano didn't want to think there might be an emergency. Ayda was back in Preservation space. She was safe!
Ayda said, "The refugee who saved me has woken. I need to go see it."
"Oh," Farai said. The pronoun was unusual but the true oddity was how Ayda's expression had lightened and how eager she looked to see this other person. It was closer to the way Tano would have expected Ayda to look about seeing them.
"I'll call you again before we dock."
"Right," Tano said, because Farai was silent. Tano cut the connection, staring off into space as Tano's mind spun without finding traction.
"They just woke up?" Farai said, puzzled.
"It." Tano's mind still hadn't found traction, but it had caught that part.
"Yeah," Farai said thoughtfully. "It just woke up." She scooted to the side so she could look Tano in the face. "Has it been asleep for a long time or does Ayda drop everything every time it wakes up?"
Tano's lips pinched together. That was unfair. They didn't have the full story. But Farai wasn't being accusing and Tano knew her well enough to know that. She was just putting to words what Tano had already been thinking. "I don't know. But it's important to her either way."
"Ephraim said you escaped. They didn't release you? What happened?"
Ayda made a 'the cat's out of the bag now' expression, or that was how Tano read it. "I have been instructed to be very careful with what I transmit. This channel is encrypted, but anything can be intercepted. I 'exited' GrayCris' custody on TranRollinHyfa and boarded a high security company ship. We transferred in space near Port FreeCommerce. And now here we are, finally home."
"You can tell us more when you're here," Farai said. Clasping her hands in anticipation, she went on, "We'll catch the next flight down-planet so we can all be together. Everyone is clamoring to see you again!"
Ayda's face turned uncertain. "No, we- The team will need to remain on the station while we sort out the pending issues and put together what we can of the survey results."
Farai pulled her head back. "Surely you can do that after seeing your family. They're not making you stay-"
"No," Ayda said, tensing. "They're not making me stay. There are security issues as well. Travel should be limited for now, until we know more."
"Are you in danger?" Farai asked. Are we in danger, Tano wondered, with a sinking feeling. The Corporation Rim's very existence was an existential threat to Preservation and places like it. They survived by being not worth the effort of takeover. But that was no protection from retribution – obviously not if the head of the steering committee was subject to being snatched and held for ransom.
Terrifyingly, Ayda did not reassure them. "I … Not right now. Not … immediately." She exhaled visibly and steeled herself to deny them. "But for now, I'll need to stay on the station."
"Then," Tano said, "we can bring the family to you."
Ayda's face crumpled for a moment and Tano thought she might cry. "Thank you. That- Yes, I would like to see them."
Farai took first place in dashing forward to hug Ayda, leaving Tano to maneuver to the side and then get pulled in as Ayda spread her arms to bring Tano in as well. The three embraced. Her scent, her warmth, her strength – it enveloped Tano, relaxing and softening, tears welled up in Tano's eyes and were allowed to fall for just this once.
Tano let out a shaky breath as they parted. This was their first meeting in the flesh, but Ayda had been on station for nearly a day. It had been maddening knowing she was so close but walled off from them. Frustrating, too, with insidious, useless thoughts that Ayda could have pushed, could have made an exception earlier than she had, could have made time for them.
After her face had crumpled on the comm at the thought of seeing her family again, Tano had thought she was the Ayda Tano had known in private for so many years. But then the politician, the diplomat, the mediator had returned to the fore. They had to wait. There were more pressing concerns. The survey team had to reunite first. The council needed a briefing. Station Security needed a briefing. Ayda had to settle issues related to the refugee, which she wanted to handle personally because this was the person who'd saved her life. There'd been media to meet with and the rest of the journalists to dodge and that was how it had taken almost a full day before they'd been able to see her in person.
Everyone else had seen her first. Literally. An official statement had been released and Ayda had given the same vague platitudes Farai had to the reporters, just with a different face on it. Tano was left feeling miffed. Maybe the temper was justified, even. Tano couldn't decide. But Tano knew this wasn't the time to confront Ayda over it. Ayda needed her spouse's support right now. She needed hugs and kisses and a forehead pressed to hers, hands cradling the back of her head as Tano gave thanks for her safe return. Everything else could come later.
Ayda's office contained a large and unfamiliar person when they walked in. There was something vaguely intimidating in the indifferent manner of standing, observing no normal social convention of friendly greeting, no eye contact, no change of expression. There was no feed profile – nothing to indicate this was a person instead of a cunningly made robot or even a statue.
"It's me." The lips moved, at least.
Ayda acted as though she recognized the person. She pressed her lips together, hiding a smile and maybe more. She glanced back at Tano, Farai, and Janzee, then turned back to the stranger. "Just a moment."
The person stepped out onto the balcony while Ayda turned to her family with something that looked like excitement. "That's the person who saved my life, who rescued me from those corporates. It's a security consultant. I wasn't expecting it here." Her voice softened, her features warmed. This was someone very special to her.
"The one who woke up?" Farai asked.
"Hm?" Ayda raised her brows in question.
"On the ship. When you had to go see them- it?"
"Yes." She nodded. "That's the one."
Tano asked, "Does it have a name?" This would simplify the conversation greatly.
"You can ask," Ayda said, "but it probably won't tell you. It's very shy."
"You … do know its name?" Tano asked, uncertain as to why Ayda wouldn't offer a name for it, even a nickname or an assumed name. They'd shared the entire wormhole trip together. People called each other something. Overcome with curiosity about the stranger, Janzee wandered toward the balcony. Tano shifted weight uneasily and Ayda sent a lingering look at the little girl, but neither stopped her.
Farai said to Tano, "It's a refugee, right? Maybe it needs a new name to change its life and it hasn't picked one yet." It was as good a theory as any.
"Its name is private," Ayda said. "It might pick a different one. Until yesterday, it was recovering from its injuries."
"What happened to it?" Farai asked. "Are there people looking for it?"
"Well." Ayda straightened a little. "No more than for the rest of us. It had neurological damage but the healing should be complete by now."
"I was just wondering if it needed to be protected-"
"No, no. It does not need that," Ayda jumped in to say firmly. "It's very capable of taking care of itself, although it needs the same help anyone would in its situation."
"Said situation is clear as mud," Tano said in a low tone. "In case you didn't know." She knew. Tano was certain of it and hoped Ayda would address the unsaid request for clarification. She did not.
"Things have been a bit uncertain in regard to it," Ayda said. "I don't have all the answers. Let me speak to it for a few minutes and then I'll make introductions." She went to the balcony as Tano and Farai took seats on the couch and tried not to eavesdrop.
Janzee joined them shortly, looking mildly put out. "That person is weird."
"You shouldn't call people weird," Tano said, unable to keep from shooting a short glance at the balcony. Ayda was leaning on it next to the stranger. She was facing outward. It was facing her.
"They said they were weird," Janzee said.
"It's going by 'it'," Tano said, attention turning to the little girl.
"That's for things," Janzee retorted, trying to be right after being corrected twice in a row.
"And for people who want to be called 'it'."
"That's definitely-" Janzee cut herself off, probably from saying, again, that the person was weird.
Farai said more gently than Tano had, "You should still be very careful when saying something like that. Being weird or different from everyone else in some way is one of the things that is best left to self-expression. A person can say it about themselves, but when others do, it can sound like those others are labeling them. No one likes to be labeled by others."
"Sometimes," Tano said, "not even when it's true." Tano knew that from personal experience, wanting nothing to do with many of society's ways of marking and categorizing people.
Janzee seemed unbothered by the mini-lecture. Once Tano had finished speaking, the child's gaze went unfocused as her attention shifted to something in her feed. Her parents were obviously less interesting than whatever was there. Farai shot Tano an amused, rueful look. They had their hands full with this one.
Ayda returned with the tall person following her. She spoke to it. "I wanted to introduce my family to you, at least this small part of it." The others were on-station, but their sleep cycles were out of sync and it would be some hours before they were awake. "These are my partners, Farai and Tano." They rose and gave small bows.
It stood staring over their heads with an expression that was simultaneously blank and apprehensive. It didn't even look at them. Maybe this was the neurological damage Ayda had mentioned? Or aversion to eye contact? She'd said it was shy.
Ayda said, "And you've met Janzee. She's our daughter and one of my youngest."
"I'm not the youngest, though," Janzee was quick to put in.
"No, of course not," Ayda said warmly. "But you are the one who slept on the shuttle, all the way up, and that's why you're awake already."
Janzee pulled herself up proudly. "I did that on purpose!"
"I'm sure you did," Ayda said approvingly. She was so good at that, glossing right past what they were supposed to call this person.
"They-" Janzee started, then corrected, "It said you saved its life, too! It showed me video."
"It did?" Ayda said, with the slightest widening of her eyes. She glanced at the person. "Of me …?"
"No," it said.
"I didn't see you," said Janzee. "It was a big fight with bots going all over and dark and lights and guns and stuff! Here, I'll show you." Janzee sent the video to all of them. Farai set it aside for now and used the moment to tell it how grateful she was to have Ayda returned to them. Tano, along with Ayda, was immersed in the unexpected action of the video, missing the rest of what was said.
"It said it was her sex unit," Farai said later. She looked thoughtful. They were sitting together on a bench on the children's level as Janzee ran rings around some of the potted plants, occasionally ducking into the rounded wood playhouses with another child who was similarly up too early and burning off energy.
"Her sex unit?" In the video, it had been tagged as a SecUnit, but CR phonetic transcriptions weren't perfectly accurate, nor did they allow crowd-sourced corrections like Preservation did. Maybe it was a typo? Tano wasn't sure how the video had been produced, now that it was in question.
"That's what it said. I asked it what that meant, and it said it didn't know, that it wished it did know. So, I just thanked it. I think they have a lot to work out – it and Ayda."
Farai was taking this more in stride than Tano was. Tano was confused. "I thought she said it was a security consultant."
"Personal security maybe?" Farai's face turned amused. "Very personal security? That might explain why she dropped everything for it."
"She doesn't even know its name!"
"Oh, she does. She said was private." She couldn't resist adding, "Very private." She nudged Tano playfully.
"Okay, maybe she knows its name, but a sex unit? What does that even mean?" They weren't exclusive; not by any means, but none of them had expected Ayda to find someone while she was away. "She could have told us," Tano grumbled.
That Ayda still hadn't told them was perhaps due to her comment of things being 'uncertain' in regard to it. They'd only seen Ayda a few hours, most of which had been spent recounting all the things she'd missed while away. It was Ayda, after all, who'd kept steering the conversation back to that and away from her own ordeal. Tano had noticed; so had Farai. Both allowed it.
After a few more seconds ticked by, Tano asked the general knowledge base to provide the Corporation Rim definition of a 'sex unit'. It returned 'ComfortUnit' as the most likely match and the information that these provided sexual services and emotional support among other uses. It was an Imitative Human Bot Unit, which matched the other information Ayda had given on the stranger.
Tano forwarded this to Farai, who read it and said, "That's why it's 'it'."
Tano made a slight noise in acknowledgement, attention still on the part for 'emotional support'. Much was explained, but it didn't make it any easier to swallow.
"I've been talking with SecUnit," Ayda said, "and you should go planet-side with the rest of the family for your own safety."
"Sek-k-Unit?" Tano asked. It was a dumb thing to fixate on, given how alarming the rest of what Ayda had just said had been. Tano glanced past Ayda at where the person in question was looming near the doorway as though poised to stop anyone who tried to use it.
"Yes. It's short for security unit."
Oh. That was obvious. How had that not been considered? It had even been there in text in the video. SecUnit had a profile this time around. Now that Tano noticed, the name was in it. Although sex or security work didn't make much of a difference. Ayda and SecUnit were still very close and it was dictating who she could see, for how long, and where. That was unsettlingly more than emotional support.
"It's a construct," Ayda continued.
"Like a bot?" Farai asked uncertainly.
"Yes." Ayda drew a breath to say more, but Tano interrupted.
"Let's go back to the part where you're saying we should leave. For our own safety. What's the danger? Are you safe here?"
"Right," Farai nodded, accepting the redirect. "That's important."
"I'm as safe as I can be. As I have discovered- I mean, I knew before, but it has been reinforced I guess you could say, nowhere is truly and entirely safe. You will be safer on the planet, away from me and with a few temporary changes to your location and identification information in the databases. I've reviewed it with Station Security."
"Changes to our location?" Farai asked.
"It's just to the information listed in the system," Ayda explained. "So that anyone looking for you will have difficulty. I have already been interrupted by journalists. There may be … others. There will be some security protocols for you to follow."
"We're not in danger from journalists," Tano said flatly. That wasn't what this was about and Tano wasn't going to let Ayda change the subject this time – not about this.
"No, you are not."
"Then what are we in danger from?"
"I don't know. The main danger is to us – myself, SecUnit, Pin-Lee-" Ayda's hesitation was so slight it might have been missed by someone who didn't know her intimately and for decades. "Others. Getting you off-station and away from us is the safest thing I can do for you. Please."
"You're sending us away when you need us most," Tano said bluntly. It was an effort to keep the voice steady, especially in the face of how rarely Ayda asked for something in that tone. "We can help you."
Ayda swallowed. "You can help me by doing this."
Farai took Tano's arm. "Tano. This is what Ayda thinks is best for us."
Tano looked at SecUnit (briefly, because whatever aversion it had to eye contact didn't seem to have changed, so Tano assumed it was rude to look too directly). This was not what Ayda thought was best. It was what SecUnit had told her was best. And then, after that, Ayda had decided it was best. The urge to find some way to fight this was there. Tano wanted to take Ayda with them, hold her, cook biscuits for her, take her to bed by all that was holy! They'd not been together like that yet. They'd done no more than hug her.
On that thought, Tano lunged forward, wrapping arms around Ayda and holding her close, willing everything into the embrace Tano wanted to say but couldn't, or didn't think Ayda wanted to hear but Tano felt anyway. SecUnit flinched. More slowly, Farai stepped up next to them and joined the hug. They stood like that for some time, just as they had when they'd first met her.
"Please come back," Tano said, not knowing, really, what was meant by that.
Ayda's back jerked once with what might have been a sob. There was no sound to it. She was barely holding it together. As an emotionally reserved person, Tano had sympathy for what Ayda must be going through. "That was unfair of me," Tano said, releasing the hug so Ayda could separate from them. "We will miss you. Please come back when you think it is safe. We'll be waiting for you."
Farai, who was full-on crying now, nodded in agreement. She couldn't bring herself to speak until later (such a short time later!) when they parted ways for … however long SecUnit thought they needed to stay apart from Ayda.
Through the ship's cameras, the station shrank as they dropped toward home, the long descent to the planet's surface ahead of them and their family. Tano and Farai watched through the feed. They usually watched where they were going, but today by unspoken agreement, they jointly lingered over where they'd been. Ayda should have been with them, taking the family time that had been on the original schedule they'd all signed up for more than a year ago (such lengthy work assignments were not unilateral decisions).
Instead, she was staying behind. Tano made an effort not to blame SecUnit for that. If there was danger, then there was danger. SecUnit had just been the one to identify it and announce it. Tano held Farai's hand tightly and hoped for safety and solace for Ayda. It hurt that they couldn't be there beside her, enduring whatever came, together. But Ayda's 'us' no longer included them. That hurt more.
You don't normally take my hand like this, Farai observed over the feed so their conversation was private from the rest of the family seated around them on the shuttle. What are you thinking? What are you feeling?
She's not mine anymore.
Farai leaned over to rest her head against Tano's shoulder. The hurt swelled to an ache. Tano made a small noise of deep discontent and turned off the visual they'd been sharing of the fading station. It was gut-twisting to watch.
She was a captive for weeks, Farai sent, still holding hands and pressing head to shoulder. And that was after everything that happened on the survey.
We barely know anything about it, Tano said. Everything that happened to her – I was thinking she should have told us. She must not be ready yet. It would likely have been the same reaction if those events had happened to Tano. Knowing that invited self-reflection Tano didn't want to do, but knew should be done – should definitely be done before judging Ayda for it. The best way to show love for her was to be generous and honor Ayda's decisions. It was hard.
Farai had a scrapbook stored in her interface of the media releases, council communications, and timelines their family had put together to track what was happening or had happened to Ayda. She looked through it idly, letting the file access activity fill the still-empty place in their shared feed where they'd been watching the station.
Farai lingered on one of the pictures, a still they'd isolated from one of the helmet-cam videos. It showed Ayda, battered and scorched, arm visibly broken, crouched next to someone even worse off in a ragged, torn, and burned environmental suit. That was from the end of the planetary survey.
The same people who had done that to Ayda had abducted her and held her captive for weeks. Ayda had told them, in a bare bones manner and by sharing the preliminary survey report and legal charges, what had transpired. But she'd said nothing yet of her imprisonment. She hadn't explained the nature of the danger she thought she was in now. Tano was so angry on her behalf, so unable to do anything about it even now that Ayda was here. Right here! And yet so far away. Tano's eyes watered.
Tano leaned into Farai, who squeezed their joined hands and sent, She'll tell us when it's time.
But it was just so hard.