Moving Target
Disclaimers in Chapter 1.
Feedback welcomed by reviewing or by emailing the author at jennet_2@yahoo.co
Moving Target
Chapter 9
"All right, that's done it. Let go'a the ladder, I'm coming down."
Anlia backed away, and her father clomped down, the force of his boots making each rung shudder. A scuffed grey tool case hung from his left shoulder by a wide webbing strap. He reached ground and waved his daughter further back so he could squeeze the release bars and let the ladder retract. He raised his voice over the rhythmic 'clunk-clunk-clunk' the rungs made as they slid down.
"That'll keep the mouse-bats outta the crawl-space. Anything else busted up I should know about?"
"No, that's it. I put the gersa that was limping into an empty stall, and I'll check on her later."
Glovan grunted irritably. "Better turn out to be a strain, and not a separated shoulder, that's all I have to say." He bent and lifted the ladder, now a quarter of its extended length, hooking it over his arm.
"She's walking, I don't think it can be too bad." Anlia climbed the porch steps. "I packed you a lunch. If you were going out to the fields, I could fetch it for you now, save me time later."
"Yeah, I gotta get back out there 'fore that grass burns dry. Bring it along out, I'll put it under the seat." Ladder balanced easily on his shoulder, Glovan strode across the yard toward the barns.
Fifteen minutes later, the sound of the mower's engine had faded to silence under the wide blue bowl of the sky. Anlia stood on the porch another minute, taking deep breaths of the hot morning air and watching the dust settle in her father's wake.
Finally, wearily, she turned and went back inside. Senno was on his stomach in the arch between the hall and the main room, and she had to step over him. He had his dragons and a toy livestock speedertruck spread around him; the dragons were lined up, facing off to a plastine man propped on the speeder.
"Grrr, we won't let you by! Get off our land or we'll kick your butt!" the little boy growled. He spun the center dragon, sending the toy man flying across the hall with a smack of the dragon's tail.
Anlia bit back an automatic caution to play nicely. He's acting out his fear instead of bottling it up, she told herself. It's better if he gets it out so it's less scary. Without disturbing his game, she tiptoed on into the kitchen.
Behind her, Senno hurriedly gathered his toys and hustled after her. Ducking beneath the kitchen table, he began to set out his toys again, where he could continue his game within sight of her. Anlia sighed silently and began to load dishes into the dishcleaner.
With the kitchen tidied, she went down the hall and tapped on her bedroom door. "It's me. Can I come in?" The door slid open at her touch and she stepped inside.
The Rebel was poised in mid-stride in the center of her room. From the tension radiating off him, she guessed he'd been pacing the floor. He'd made up her bed without a wrinkle, stacked his breakfast dishes neatly, and even replaced the contents of her toppled shelving that she hadn't bothered with. Now he was looking at her with barely-checked impatience. He motioned out the window.
"Yes, I know, Dad's left for the fields. I wanted to make sure he was off for the day and didn't pop back unexpectedly. I think it's safe for you to come out if you'd like to."
He nodded emphatically, handing her the datapad as he came to stand before her.
We need to figure out my escape route. Have you a map of the area?
A brush of movement at Anlia's side forestalled her reply. Senno had slipped in shadow-like behind her. He looked up at the visitor.
"If you had a blaster, I bet you'd'a shot all them nasty Imps, huh, Rebel?"
"Sen... " Anlia started, but the boy squeezed past her, ignoring her.
"You coulda killed 'em all, huh? 'Cause you're a Rebel!"
The Rebel shook his head slowly. With a click of a tile, he cleared the datascreen and keyed in a message. Not taking his gaze from the small boy's, he handed the datapad to Anlia.
"'There were too many soldiers for one man to kill'," Anlia read aloud. "He says, 'It would have been too dangerous to start shooting at all those armed men.' The Rebel is right, Senno. They were scary, but if someone shot at them, they would have gotten even scarier."
The boy stuck his lip out at her. "Awww, you're just spooked. A Rebel coulda done it. You shoulda gave him the rifle before those dirty Imps even came in the house!" He pulled his arms into a firing stance and began making shooting sounds.
The Rebel pulled back the datapad for another message. When he handed it back to Anlia, he took Senno by the shoulders and crouched down to the boy's eyelevel, shaking his head slowly again.
"He says, 'They were very dangerous men. It's my job to protect you. Starting a shootout with soldiers wouldn't be a good way to do that. Sometimes it's safer to hide, or to do as they say so they'll leave Can you understand?'" Anlia read slowly, while the Rebel held Senno's gaze with great seriousness. "Can you understand, Sen? Real blasterbolts aren't like in the holos. I don't want anyone shot, and I know you don't either."
He squirmed free of the Rebel's hands. "I dunno. I don't want 'em ever to come back."
"I hope they don't," Anlia said She thought it would be a good idea to guide the subject away from blasting and killing. She pointed at the Rebel.
"We have to make you a little less noticable. What would you say to a haircut?"
His hands went to his head, touching the long, matted strands of hair that hung to his shoulders. He tried to comb his fingers through the nest of snarls, with no success. For Senno's benefit, he tugged exaggeratedly, then made an alarmed face. The boy giggled.
Anlia chuckled, too. "What do you think, Sen? Does he need a haircut?"
"Think he needs shearin'!"
"Like the time Mersha got into the tangle-burrs, huh? Remember what her tail and pastern hair looked like? All clumped up with thistles?"
"Yeah, and Grandpa sheared her till her tail was a bald stumpy!"
The Rebel made a face of mock alarm, and Senno burst into peals of laughter.
Anlia gave the boy's back a pat. "I think maybe the Rebel isn't looking much better than Mersha. Run 'long and fetch a couple towels for him, will you, Sen?" She waited until the small boy had scampered off, and then caught the Rebel's eye. "Thanks," she said quietly. "He's pretty shook up."
He bobbed forward with a half-bow, an 'at-your-service-Madam' gesture so courtly, Anlia actually felt her heart flutter.
My stars, where is he from that he does that so nicely?
She made herself stop gaping and offered, "You want a shower first? It might be easier to cut your hair if it's clean and wet."
He nodded so eagerly, she had to smile. "Take your time. The solar cells have plenty of reserves this time of year, so you can have all the hot water you want."
He tapped his chest in thanks, his eyes already flicking unconsciously toward the hall. Regretful that she hadn't been able to offer him a shower earlier, Anlia waved him through the door.
"Come out to the porch when you're done washing. I'll set up out there."
~~~~~
She'd lined up clippers, a comb, and a beaker of water along the porch railing, and dragged one of the weather-faded wooden chairs up to it. Anlia sat in a second chair, a bowl of fruit to be pitted in her lap; Senno perched atop the railing with his feet wound between the rungs.
A shadow of motion inside the door made him perk up. "Here he comes! Here comes the Rebel, to get sheared! All his hair, sheared... " The boy's gleeful voice broke off. Anlia looked up to see what could have silenced him.
After a long, slow look around the front yard and down the lane, the Rebel slipped out the front door. He'd left off his borrowed shirt, and a damp towel was draped around his shoulders. The sunburn on his arms had faded to a pale tan, and the angry scrapes down his side had lost some of their raw color. Glovan's trousers hung loosely from his hips, and he gave them a self-conscious tug as he stepped outside.
None of which were what had stilled Senno's flapping tongue and left Anlia's hands frozen in midair above the bowl of groundberries. It was the sight of the Rebel's face that had accomplished that.
His matted beard was gone, revealing the clean lines of his lean cheeks and chin and the firmness of his jaw. Without the mass of unkempt hair blurring his refined features, he looked younger than Anlia had taken him to be. Younger-- and even more handsome.
She realized dimly that she was gaping, and shut her mouth with a snap. She couldn't look away from him, though-- his eyes looked bluer than ever, and his lips, no longer cloaked by whiskers, were firm and nicely shaped. Her eyes lingered on that mouth until she felt heat rising up her neck and face; she lowered her gaze and found herself focused on the Rebel's bare chest and belly. Even more flustered now, she dropped her gaze still further, past the slouching waistband.
And thanks to the bath in the barn, she wasn't completely ignorant of his assets there, either.
Her face flared with a hectic blush at the memory. She lurched awkwardly out of her chair, sending bright green groundberries rolling across the porch floor. Dropping the bowl on the seat of the chair she'd just vacated, she gripped the chairback and fought to control her suddenly racing pulse, wondering if she looked as graceless as she felt.
Her reaction had brought a look of chagrin to the Rebel's face. Awkwardly he rubbed at his chin and cocked his head. 'Is it that bad?' his expression seemed to say.
Breathe, Anlia scolded herself. "It looks fine," she hastened to reassure the Rebel. "You just look so completely different, you took me by surprise."
A feeble excuse, but she was too tongue-tied to be more creative.
"No more beard," Senno observed unnecessarily.
"That's right, no more beard. And in a minute, no more hair," Anlia chattered to cover her agitation. She stepped behind the empty chair, bending to pat its seat. "Have a seat, sir. First haircut of the day is always free," she added, hoping to make Senno giggle.
He did, and settled himself more comfortably on the porch rail, clearly pleased with his front row seat to the proceedings.
The Rebel seated himself, lifting one hip to free the datapad and tap in a message.
Anlia leaned over his shoulder to read it. "'Should I be nervous?'" she read. "No, of course not. I cut Senno's hair all the time, don't I, Sen?"
The boy clutched at his hair with both hands, rolling his eyes and lolling his tongue out in a parody of terror. The Rebel made an expression of panic and pretended to rise, sending Senno into gales of high-pitched laughter.
Anlia pushed down on his shoulders and he thumped back into the chair in a show of cowering.
"Oh, stop it! I'm an excellent haircutter. Now sit still or it'll come out ragged." She leaned around him and plucked the clippers off the railing and flicked them on.
His hair hadn't been combed in weeks, she quickly discovered. It was a real chore to keep the ends even as she worked. After 10 minutes of centimeter-by-centimeter progress, Anlia was tempted to adjust the clippers' setting and run them over his head back to front to shave him bald.
Somehow, she just couldn't do that to him. He'd look like a green Imp cadet, and he'd been through so much already, why inflict that upon him? So she worked her fingers under the worst of the mats, shearing them off carefully and then running the wetted comb through the trimmed hair to keep it smooth.
Clumps of hair tumbled down the Rebel's towel-draped shoulders to the porch, until he and his chair were ringed by them. Anlia shifted to stand in front of him, reaching for the tangled hank that fell across his brow. His eyes were closed, and she paused, moving the humming clippers away from his head.
"You all right?"
Startled, he dragged his eyelids open. His cheekbones darkened and he nodded sheepishly.
"Am I making you nervous? I'm not doing that bad a job, really."
No; no. He shook his head, fumbled for the datapad in his lap.
It's relaxing. You have a very gentle touch.
"Oh." Anlia felt her cheeks redden again. Suddenly, she didn't know where to look. "Well, er... sit tight, you're almost done."
Another few moments, and he was done. She circled him, checking for ragged spots, and then lifted the towel from his shoulders. Without thinking, she brushed her hand down his neck and back, whisking away stray hairs.
His skin was warm and smooth. He jumped a little at her touch, and his muscles rippled with the motion.
Anlia yanked her hand back, startled now herself.
Her palm tingled, and she had a sudden urge to lay her hand back between his shoulder blades, and draw it slowly down the furrow of his spine.
What's come over me?
The back of his neck was pale where it had been shielded from Akrit'tar's strong summer sun. Senno leaned forward, one arm wrapped around a porch post, and reached for the Rebel. The man obligingly bent forward so the boy could rub his free hand on the cropped-short hairs at the back of his head.
"Plushy!" Senno giggled.
Anlia's heart was beating in a strange fluttery rhythm. She wanted to push Senno's hand aside so she could run her own up and down the Rebel's neck and feel the tickle of his hair on her palm.
Face burning, she wrenched aside and shook out the towel with fierce flaps, the collected hair flying out onto the porch with the rest.
Stop it! Stupid girl! You can't seriously be thinking these thoughts!
But her eyes were drawn almost irresistibly back to the pale skin at the nape of the Rebel's neck.
His muscles shifted as he half-turned to look at her; he cocked his head questioningly and Anlia somehow found a nonchalant smile for him.
"You're all done." She paused then, struck anew at his appearance, and came around the chair to stare at his face. "My stars," she said quietly. "You look like the holo on the prison record again!"
He held his borrowed datapad up in front of his face, turning his head from side to side and brushing at his newly-shorn hair. Senno guessed first what he was pantomiming.
"A mirror, a mirror!" he shouted, springing off the railing and thundering inside. He was back in a moment with a small hand mirror, which he thrust into the Rebel's face.
He took it from the boy and stared deeply into it, so deeply he went still with concentration.
"Well?" Senno broke in. "D'ya like it? Huh?"
"Sen, hush." Anlia gently drew the boy aside. "Let him be," she murmered. "Seeing the way he used to look might help him remember."
He gazed into the mirror for so long, Anlia felt a stirring of hope, but when the Rebel lowered his arm, his shoulders lifted in a long, silent sigh.
It's me. It's how I looked before, I know that. But...
His head bent in despair.
But nothing else.
nothing.
Anlia laid her hand on his arm. "It's early days yet," she said softly. "Truly, it is."
He tried to smile at her, and visibly shook off his discouragement. Rising from the chair, he lined his heels up smartly and laid his hand over his heart, fingers pressing deeply into his flesh. He brushed his other hand over his hair.
Anlia smiled. "You're quite welcome. You don't look nearly as frightful now. A few days in the sun, and no one will look twice at you."
Ah, that's not true at all, is it, my girl? taunted a little voice in back of her mind. Nine-tenths of the female population, as well as a percentage of the male, would happily take second, and third, and tenth looks at him.
And he's clearly not a farmer.
She seized the porch broom and busily swept the Rebel's hairclippings into a pile, then pushed the pile onto the towel.
"Here, Sen. Take this and shake it into the incinerator, would you? Don't want anyone finding strange hair lying about."
"Can I take the Rebel an' show him?"
He didn't look reluctant at the idea, so Anlia nodded. "I guess so. Go on, then."
"C'mon, Rebel! That's where I burned up your prison clothes, all by myself! C'mon, I'll show you how!" Catching hold of the man's hand, Senno dragged him down the porch steps.
"Don't spill that hair!" Anlia called after them.
~~~~~
Senno came back chattering a kilometer a minute, "his" Rebel at his side. Anlia, knotting a scarf around her hair, paused as they came around the corner of the house and mounted the steps of the side porch.
Senno's hand was clasped trustingly in the Rebel's, and his face was tilted up at the older man's as he rattled on cheerfully. He looked as happy as when his grandfather took him along for a walk-through of the farm.
A thread of worry twisted through Anlia's mind.
She slipped her feet into her boots and pressed down the fasteners, then reached over to key the door open. "Come inside, you rascal, and get your toy sack. We have to get a move on, Grandad'll wonder why the oussos didn't get picked today." She sent the boy along with a playful swat.
The Rebel followed the boy into the kitchen, cocking his head at Anlia.
"I have to go out to the field and pick vegetables; they're our cash crop. Sen has to come with me so I can keep an eye on him. You can have free run of the house, but be ready to hide on the off-chance Dad comes in early." She turned back to the counter, where she was assembling a coldpack.
He touched her arm and showed her a line of text.
Can I help?
Anlia looked skeptical. "It's hard, hot work. Oussos have to be picked by hand and packed into conservator trays."
He threw his head back in a silent laugh. Grinning crookedly, he passed her another message.
My most recent employment was as slave labor in an Imperial glassworks. I think I can manage field work.
She smiled and raised her hands apologetically. "I know, but you were so sick; and that gash in your arm has barely healed, it must still be sore. Are you sure you're up to it?"
He flexed his arm and nodded confidently.
Anlia sighed. "All right. I can't say I couldn't use the help. But go get a shirt on; the sun'll fry the skin off your back. And here." She rummaged in her tunic pocket and produced a small tube. "Spread this on your neck and ears, it'll keep you from burning."
Senno reappeared, dragging a bulging cloth sack. "Whatcha talking about?"
"The Rebel's going to help us pick today. For a few hours at least, if the heat's not too much."
"Good-o!" Grinning hugely, Senno gazed up at the man with something approaching hero worship.
Anlia felt another shiver of unease. "Remember, he's our secret helper; you're not to tell anyone. Hear me? And it's only for a little while, until he moves on."
Senno nodded, but so off-handedly it was no reassurance. He beamed up at the Rebel and got a smile and a ruffle of his hair in return.
Anlia scowled. "Go take your toys out to the wagon," she snapped, and turned to fill a second water jug at the sink.
~~~~~
A second pair of competent hands speeded the tedious chore significantly.
Anlia showed the Rebel how to tell a round, red vegetable was ripe for picking, and which ones needed another day on the vines. He was careful, not bruising or crushing the delicate produce as he transferred it from plant to basket. He quickly picked up a steady, energy-conserving rhythm, and Anlia left him to the chore and moved to a parallel row of her own.
Senno followed the Rebel at first, chattering non-stop, unbothered by the lack of verbal response his comments and even questions received. Finally, though, even he tired of trailing up and down the bushy green tunnels in the wake of the pickers, and he took himself off to the shade of a tree and his bundle of toys.
With Senno occupied, Anlia picked up the one-sided conversation. Just knowing there were adult ears listening to her was a luxury she didn't often have. From time to time she caught the pale flash of a hand through the greenery, or a sliver of face between the plants.
It was nice to have company, even silent company.
She told the Rebel of the Imperials' craving for fresh, non-processed foodstuffs that had prompted Glovan to plant the fields of labor-intensive vegetables. The sales, even at the artificially low prices the Imperial quartermaster saw fit to pay, kept the Empire's taxes paid... for the moment.
Senno probably wouldn't grow to adulthood on their farm, Anlia told the Rebel. Already the Empire was nibbling at the edges of her father's land. Taxes had been raised again; several fields had to be sold when they'd come up short of credits. With fewer fields to provide feed, they'd had to sell off some stock.
Anlia's voice grew shorter. The oussos they picked were keeping them afloat-- barely. They'd lost most of their egg-laying farm fowl the year before, when a minor officer had stopped by and "requisitioned" the flock for a banquet in honor of a visiting dignitary. Every year, a portion of the gersa herd went not to sale, but to the local garrison for the commander's private table.
Eventually she trailed off into silence. The heat pressed down, oppressive in its intensity, an almost physical weight searing through the thin cloth covering their shoulders. The trilling of the summer insects swelled to fill the silence. Sweat dripped, and gnats swarmed their eyes; Anlia mopped her face with her neckscarf and was struck with remorse to realize she hadn't given one to the Rebel.
They broke for lunch when they were about two-thirds of the way across the field. The sun wasn't quite straight overhead, but breakfast had been hours before. Anlia's wrists ached from twisting oussos from the vines; she was sure the Rebel needed a break.
At the end of the row, she took his basket from him and pointed him towards Senno's tree. The relative coolness of the deep shade beneath the branches was a relief after the unrelenting sun; Anlia flopped backwards, her arms outflung in the grass, and closed her eyes for a blissful moment of rest.
"I'm gonna open the coldpack, huh? I'm hungry, I wanna eat. I'm gonna open it an' get something."
Sighing, Anlia sat up, swatted Senno's hands aside, and cracked open the pack. A faint puff of chilled air brushed her face and was gone.
"Here, take your lunch and sit down. Sit down, I said. Put your juice bottle on that flat root. No, leave the Rebel alone and tend to your own food."
He sat up slowly, with a wince he couldn't quite hide, and Anlia looked worriedly at him. Despite his earlier confidence, his hands were just visibly shaking when he reached for the plastene box of food she passed him. He edged backwards until the tree's wide, smooth grey trunk braced his back; with great care he folded his right arm over his stomach. One-handed, he popped open the box on his lap and began to eat with intense concentration.
Anlia immediately revised her plan, which had been to eat quickly and get back to work, in order to finish as soon as possible. The Rebel was still too shaky for hard labor in the hot sun; they'd take a leisurely hour for lunch, she decided, and then she'd make him sit in the shade with Senno while she finished the rows. With the Rebel for company, Senno wouldn't be nagging at her to leave, so she would probably finish more quickly than usual.
She had been hunched over, set on eating with haste; now she made herself relax, sliding down to lie on her side in the grass. Propping herself on one elbow, she took a leisurely bite of bread and cheese.
Senno inhaled his lunch and started to chatter. He had a fort in the hollowed spaces among the twining roots of the tree, he informed the Rebel; his dragons stood guard over it from various hillocks of grass; he was digging a cave beneath an arched root, but the dirt was hard and the rootlets tough, making it a difficult venture for a small boy. He had a rope swing and would be pleased to show his Rebel how he could swing nearly high enough to touch the broad, leathery leaves of the lowest tree branches.
The Rebel nodded solemnly at each announcement. His lunch eaten and a good start made on the second water jug, some of the high color had faded from his cheeks. He swiped his hand over his forehead in a habitual gesture of pushing back hair from his brow, and looked surprised to find the lock of hair too short.
Anlia chuckled. "You'll have to get used to it being short again. You look like a member of the armed forces now."
He nodded thoughtfully and pulled out the datapad.
I suspect pilot. Certain things...
He paused for a long moment, appearing to brace himself. When nothing happened, he resumed keying in his message, occasionally hesitating over a word.
...Certain things that pop into my mind sound flight-related. Autopilot. Wingmen. Cruising.
My dreams are of flying.
Anlia nodded. "That would make sense. You'd be very valuable to the Rebellion, so when the Empire caught you, they stashed you someplace very secure, so it wouldn't be easy to get you back."
He looked startled at the idea, then nodded slowly as he thought it over.
Senno staggered between them, lurching crazily. "Look at me, I'm dizzy, I'm dizzy!" Behind him, the rope swing unwound in a slow spiral.
"Go be dizzy somewhere else." Anlia fended him off. "It's too hot to have you falling on us."
The Rebel passed another message to her.
Do you always work in the field in the hot part of the day?
She shook her head. "Usually I get a much earlier start. Plus, I'm behind in the rows, so we stayed later. They're planted at staggered times, so they ripen in sequence, but I got behind."
Because of me.
She shrugged, uncomfortable. "Partly. But I couldn't have left you to die. If it had been one of our neighbors sick or hurt, we'd have stopped work to help him or her. So don't worry about it."
But you count on the produce to get by.
"And thanks to your help this morning, I'm nearly caught up again. A couple hours more, and I will be. Don't worry. We're fine."
He looked unconvinced.
Senno whirled by again. "I like when Anlee's busy! I don't have lessons then!"
"Oh, yeah? I could bring your lessons out here, make you sit under the tree and do them."
"No, no you can't. The Rebel's got my datapad!"
"He'll loan it back to you. He doesn't want you to miss lessons," Anlia teased, and the older man nodded and held out the brightly-colored device.
Senno hid his hands behind him and backed up, shaking his head. "No, no, I gave it to him! The Rebel hasta keep it, 'cause he can't talk. And he needs it to help remember, 'cause he doesn't even know his name." He skipped aside, taking a running leap onto his rope swing.
Momentum sent the small boy swooping in wide arcs beneath the spreading leaves. "I don't need lessons!" he called back as he spun. "I know my Aurabesh. Aurek, besh, cresh, dorn," he sang. "Esk, forn, grek, hert..."
Anlia tuned him out; another more important thought had occurred to her. "Your name," she said to the Rebel. He cocked his head inquiringly. "If we can't find your true name, we should pick one for you."
He settled comfortably against the tree trunk again, one leg stretched out, the other drawn up with the datapad resting handily on his knee. He cocked his head again and shrugged.
"Why? Well, for one thing, it would be nicer to call you something other than 'Hey You' or even 'Rebel'." Behind her, Senno was still singing Aurabesh and twirling on the rope. His voice was very piercing, and she winced. "And also, it would be better if we got in the habit of referring to you by name instead of 'the Rebel'. If Senno slips up, I can pretend he's talking about a holo-character, or even an imaginary friend. If he says 'The Rebel helped us pick oussos today' to Dad, there's not much I can do to talk my way out of it."
The Rebel nodded approvingly and tapped his head-- 'Good idea', he seemed to say.
"Resh is for Rebel!" Senno announced loudly.
Anlia grimaced. "See? He tends to be pretty single-minded. If I can get him away from the word 'Rebel'... " The other nodded in agreement.
"...for Rebel!" Senno was repeating. "An' resh is for rancor, an' ranats, an'... rotten ruba-berries!" He giggled, still spinning wildly in ever-tightening circles.
"And resh is for raucous and rowdy," Anlia said, standing up and crossing over to him. She caught the rope and stilled Senno's sturdy little body against hers. "Settle down. You just ate, and you're getting dizzy and silly. In this heat, you'll throw up. Now hush, we need to think."
"'Bout what?" Senno flopped willingly into the grass at the Rebel's side.
"About a name to call the Rebel. He needs a real name, like 'Senno' or 'Glovan'."
"Why?"
"Because everyone needs a name," Anlia said firmly. She caught the Rebel's eye. "In those flashes of memory you've gotten, did you ever catch a hint of what someone may have called you?"
He shook his head.
"Anything tickling at your mind, sounding familiar?" Another negative shake of the head. "Anything you'd like to be called?"
Senno bounced up. "I know, I know!" Eyes glowing, he tugged at the Rebel's arm until the man looked down at him. He took a deep breath. "Skywalker," he breathed in tones of reverence.
Anlia choked. The Rebel's eyes bulged and he raised his hands and shook his head violently side to side.
"Ah, Sen... that's a good name, but maybe too famous," Anlia managed to say diplomatically. "We don't want anyone to hear us talking to or about someone named 'Skywalker'. We're trying to keep him hidden from the Imps, not get their attention." She saw the boy's mouth open and added hurriedly, "And no Luke, Han, or Lando, either. We need a plain, ordinary name we can all remember. Something like Maik or Gurian."
Senno made a face, and even the Rebel looked unimpressed.
Anlia sighed. "What are your bright ideas, then?"
"Lancer," the little boy answered promptly. "Shrike. Flash."
The Rebel hid a grin, and Anlia stifled an urge to groan. "Those are holo-character names. Think of something regular. Like Ulli."
"Viper."
"Naven."
"Sting," Senno countered, while the Rebel leaned back, openly grinning now. "Havoc. Dagger."
"Dear gods." Anlia threw up her hands. "I give up. Let me know if you think of a name you'd like to be called. But it better not be 'Viper'." She started tossing food boxes back into the coldpack.
"We can do Name Game," Senno offered. He settled cross-legged and began tapping his hands in a rhythmic pattern-- together, crossed to opposite arms, to his lap, and back together again. "Aurek my name is Amiree," he chanted in time to the claps.
"Amiree is a girl's name," Anlia broke in. "The Rebel needs a boy's name."
"Aurek my name is Aric," Senno amended agreeably. "Besh my name is... Bennis. Cresh my name is Calit."
He continued chanting and clapping. Anlia hoisted the coldpack. "I'm going to put this back in the wagon," she said, low, to the Rebel. He nodded from his position against the tree trunk, and she stepped out of the circle of deep shade into the blazing midday sun.
Senno was still chanting when she returned. She thought she'd get a last drink and then slip off to the field, leaving the Rebel to rest, although how restful he'd find Senno's presence was debatable.
"...Resh my name is Rillin," Senno sing-songed. "Senth my name is Selkin."
And the Rebel jerked.
He'd been leaning back, head against the tree trunk, his eyes half-closed. Anlia had thought he was dozing, turning out the boy's chant, but perhaps he'd been listening with half an ear. At Senno's last verse, the man stiffened as if shocked, his eyes flying open.
Senth my name is Selkin...
Anlia dropped the water jug. "Sen, shut up," she broke across his recitation. She dropped to her knees beside the Rebel and put out her hand. "What?" she said softly.
His eyes had glazed slightly with concentration. He was, clearly, searching his memory, trying to pin down an elusive fragment. His hand clenched, thumped the ground hard in frustration.
"Senth," Anlia breathed, "my name is Selkin."
His eyes fell shut, and he squeezed them tight, his brow wrinkling with effort.
"Anl... " Senno began.
"Shh!" She turned back to the Rebel. "Selkin," she murmered. "Sselll-kiin... Is that your name? Selkin?"
Beside them, Senno watched, wide-eyed and silent for once.
Slowly, on a long breath, the tension drained from the Rebel, leaving him slumped against the tree. He opened his eyes, and there was despair in their blue depths. With discernible effort, he raised the datapad and pushed at the keytiles.
It's close. Not my name, but close. I almost had it...
Anlia dropped to sit once more. "I'm sorry. Did I chase it off?"
He shook his head.
I just couldn't catch it. It was so close, but it slid away. Say it again?
"Selkin. Ssell-kin. Selk-iin."
His chest lifted in a silent sigh, and he tried to smile.
It's not quite right, but there's something very familiar about the sound of the name.
"Do you want to try variations of it? Selbaan, Chelkin..."
The Rebel shook his head rapidly. He quickly handed her the datapad once more.
No, that might muddy things more. Let's let it brew in the back of my mind. 'Selkin' lit a luma, if only briefly. Let's stick with that and see if it loosens any more memories.
"So you would like us to call you that from now on?" Anlia asked to clarify, and the Rebel nodded firmly.
Senno poked her. "What's he sayin'?" he asked with a hint of a whine.
Anlia smiled at the boy. "You were a big help, Sen. The Rebel likes the name Selkin. So we're going to call him that now." She gestured toward the man. "Senno, this is Selkin. Selkin, Senno. We're very pleased to meet you."
He bowed to them from his sitting position, and although his dejection wasn't completely dispelled, there was, Anlia thought, a measure of encouragement in his expression.
~~~~~
The window screen swung outward, the dry, weathered wood creaking with the motion. The Rebel ex-prisoner Selkin slid one leg over the sill, ducked through the open window, and stretched downward, seeking purchase with his foot.
"Bucket's right below you... there," Anlia murmered. She reached up to guide him, and he steadied himself on her shoulder as he stepped down. He drew his other leg through and balanced awkwardly atop the overturned bucket long enough to pull the window nearly closed after him.
"Sen's waiting in his tree. This way."
Heavy-headed flowers on thick, bristly stems bumped his knees, releasing a peppery scent as he pushed through the flowerbed at the foundation. He followed Anlia across the soft twilit yard and into the deep shadows beneath the trees. Senno, his face a pale smudge in the dim light, swung down on a low branch and landed in front of them.
"Can we go? It's taking forever!"
"Keep your shirt on. We're here now."
They started out in a group, but within five paces Senno had darted ahead, dodging and leaping over obstacles with gleeful exhuberance. He carried a net in one hand and a small cage of fine-meshed wire in the other, and he swooshed the net back and forth through the air in deep arcs as he ran.
The sky spread in a blue-saturated expanse above them, darkening to near-black at the eastern horizon. Small flickers of motion overhead, accompanied by nearly silent clicks and squeaks, had Selkin ducking instinctively.
"Don't worry, they won't hit you," Anlia said. "They're just mouse-bats, hunting bugs." She touched his arm and pointed behind them, where the swish of their feet through the grass had stirred up clouds of tiny insects.
Beyond the barn and the fenced pastures flanking it was a meadow, its pale grass swaying in the gentle evening breeze. Senno bounded ahead, the tall stalks parting before his sturdy body and closing again in his wake. At the far end of the meadow was a gleam of water, and the boy headed toward it as if tractored.
Under the still-moonless sky the pond looked dark and depthless. The breeze chased a few ruffles across the surface; tall reeds dipped and shifted around the banks, their woody stems clacking together.
Senno crashed into the nearest stand of reeds, setting off a hurricane of hollow clattering as they knocked back and forth. From the reed-tops exploded whirls of light, bursting forth and spiralling upward and outward.
Beside her, Anlia heard Selkin's startled hiss. Her hand found his in the fading light, and squeezed.
"They're glow-flies. They hide from daylight inside the reeds. They'll come out on their own when it's fully dark, but Sen's too impatient. Watch."
Senno spread his arms and pushed, setting the reeds into waves of ponderous undulations. The clattering stems sounded almost like a cacophony of alien voices. Burst after burst of hazy blue-green lights spilled out of the moving reeds.
The glow-flies twirled higher and higher until they were far above the pond. A puff of wind scattered them, and the cloud of light separated into individual specks. Anlia heard Selkin sigh, and she turned to him with a smile.
"Pretty?"
He nodded emphatically.
His hand still rested in hers. He gave her fingers a little squeeze, and Anlia felt a tingle chase up her arm. She sneaked a glance up at his face, but he had his head tipped back, his eyes trained on the luminescent insects above. His expression was rapt.
The last bit of blue drained away to the west, and a few pinpricks of stars emerged against the darkening sky. On the far side of the pond, glow-flies began to wink on of their own volition, at a much more leisurely pace than the ones Senno had disturbed. The cloud of tiny lights sparkled, brightly enough to be reflected on the pond's surface.
A trio of mouse-bats swooped overhead, cutting across the star- and glow-sprinkled sky. Anlia heard Selkin's breath catch, and he stiffened.
She started to ask him what was wrong, but the question died before it got past her lips. Even in the gathering darkness, she recognized the expression on his face-- a jolt of surprise, quickly followed by a painful concentration tinged with panic.
He'd gotten a flash of memory, and was trying to snag it before it twisted free again.
His hand tugged against hers, and reluctantly she let it slide away. The datapad was already coming out, and the glow of its screen lit up Selkin's engrossed countenance.
He was standing right beside her, his elbow brushing her arm as he worked the keypad, but something in his eyes was so far away, so very far away, that Anlia found herself reaching over to touch him.
Her fingertips brushed his wrist, and he looked up, dazed, surprised to see her at his side.
"I'm sorry." The words came out in a whisper strained with regret. "I broke your concentration. I'm sorry."
No. The faraway look faded, and Selkin shook his head. He tapped a few more keys and showed her the screen.
Darkness -- Nighttime, outdoors -- There should be trees -- Stars above, and colorbursts against the black sky -- and flyers shooting past overhead.
There should be drums.
Selkin was looking at her with a bemused expression.
Isn't that bizarre? Drums.
But there should be drums.
"You were outdoors, in a place with trees; you could see the stars and some kind of colorbursts, and flyers of some sort were going overhead," Anlia repeated slowly as she scrolled through his words. "And you heard drums." She paused thoughtfully. "Drums... or booms? A battle?"
Selkin shook his head 'no'.
Not explosions. Real drums. And not menacing, either.
It was joyful.
"A celebration of some kind, then." She gazed over the pond, considering. She wrinkled her nose. "The only celebrations on Akrit'tar that merited fireworks were the anniversaries of the Emperor's birth and ascension to the throne. But the Rebels would hardly be celebrating them. Wait!" She twisted to face him again. "The Emperor's death," she breathed. "Could that be it? If you were a pilot in the Rebellion, there might have been a celebration when he was killed."
Selkin's eyes were lost on the sky again. After a long silence, he sighed and lowered his gaze, making an effort to smile.
Maybe. It's as good a theory as any.
The door had closed once more, Anlia realized. Pushing further would only cause him distress. To change the subject, she pointed to the pond. "Look; they've all come out now. Come sit down and watch-- they aren't as loud as fireworks, but they're nearly as pretty."
The glow-flies had reached the apex of their flight and had begun to drift down again, spreading out across the pond and the surrounding area in a glimmering blue-green curtain. They rose and fell and swirled in a dance pattern known only to themselves. Anlia steered Selkin to a small rise in the meadow, and they sat and leaned back against it for comfort.
The stars glittered brightly now against the black sky, and a faint smudge of light in the northeast signalled the imminent moonrise. At the pond's edge, the reeds clattered, and there was a soggy 'splash'.
"Sen, stay out of the water or we'll go back to the house!" Anlia called firmly.
A small dark shadow burst from the reeds and darted along the bank, net swooshing through the air. Sen crowed with triumph. Within the mesh was a pale gleam of bioluminescence. They watched him transfer the captured glow-fly to the cage, then bound off in quest of another.
Selkin passed her the datapad.
He's not your brother, and not your son, is he?
"No." Anlia lay back, lacing her fingers behind her head. The night breeze skimming the meadow felt refreshingly cool; it carried with it the mossy scent of the pond. "My nephew. My sister Josa's child."
You lost her, didn't you?
Her stomach folded into a knot. It still hurt, still left her with a sinking feeling of despairing grief. She nodded, and when she spoke, it was in a voice laced with pain.
"Yeah. She was restless, wanted off the farm. Spent a lot of time in town with a friend of hers. There was a small group of Rebel sympathizers based there, and Josa started helping out. That's how she met Darl." She lifted her head, automatically seeking out Senno and making sure he was out of earshot. "Darl Tollis. He was... one of the lieutenants, I guess you'd call him. I think he started out just trying to recruit Josa and her friend, but... "
She broke off, feeling tears prickle at the back of her eyes, and blinked hard. "...he fell in love with Josa, and she with him. Got married. We had a little party, on the lawn under the trees. Some of the guests were... Well, they made my folks nervous."
Selkin's teeth flashed white in the dimness.
Revolutionaries not the usual guests at a rural wedding?
Anlia managed a watery smile in return."Not really. Oh, they didn't come armed, or wearing commando gear... but they had such fire, such resolve to see an end to tyranny... It scared my parents, knowing we could lose Josa to their cause."
The tears were gathering again, filling the corners of her eyes and threatening to spill down into her hair. She raised her eyes to the sky, gulping hard to fight them back.
Selkin touched her arm with one fingertip. When she cut her eyes sideways, he was holding the datapad so she could read its screen.
I didn't intend to upset you. I'm sorry.
He did look sorrowful-- and kind. For a wild second, she wanted to throw herself onto his chest and let him hold her as hard as he could, and just squeeze the hurt out of her.
Reason prevailed. Anlia forced her muscles to relax, and she subsided into the grass with a sigh.
"It's all right. Their story's no different than what happened all over the galaxy. The Rebel cell started getting bolder-- smashing comm equipment one month, damaging a motorpool or ambushing a supply convoy another. When they blew up an ammo dump, the local garrison finally took them seriously. Someone got careless, let himself be tracked... The Imps set charges at one of their message drops. Josa and Darl and a half-dozen others were inside."
She rolled up onto her side and peered over Selkin's reclining body to locate the small boy still romping in the summer night.
"The cell's leader managed to get to Josa and Darl's apartment ahead of the Imp's mop-up squad. A neighbor was watching Sen-- he was just an infant-- while his parents were 'out at a holo'. Tryss brought us Sen and the news of what happened to his parents."
I'm so very sorry.
She nodded wordlessly. She hadn't talked about Josa's death in so long; all the feelings from that terrible time had come twisting back, echoes of aching sadness and helpless fury.
And deep, hollow loss.
Selkin rolled to face her and laid his hand on her shoulder. The gesture nearly dissolved her.
He understands loss. He knows it's always there, inside of you, no matter how much time passes...
Once again, she nearly melted into the circle of his arms. His hand twitched, as if to rise to her cheek But before either impulse took hold, Selkin spun around smoothly, sitting up facing away from her.
The rapid swish of feet through grass had alerted him. Sen came rocketing up the slope toward them, the glowing cage swinging from his hand.
"Lookit! Lookit how many I got!"
Selkin gently intercepted the boy, catching him with an arm about his shoulders and halting his momentum With gestures and head-tilts he indicated his interest.
Sen was more than happy to enlighten 'his Rebel'. He nearly tripped over his words in his excitement to show off his cache of luminous insects.
Anlia sat up slowly. Shielded by Selkin's back, she scrubbed at her eyes, smoothed her hair, and discreetly cleared her throat. With her sorrow back in check, she scooted forward to admire Senno's treasure.
"That looks like the most you've ever caught by yourself, Sen."
"Yeah, I got a hunnert, maybe a thousand!" he bragged. He raised the cage. "Enough to make a luma!"
The cage did throw a faint circle of bluish light, picking out the faces of the three people with a ghostly glow. Anlia felt Selkin's gaze not on the boy or his catch, but on her. She mouthed the words 'Thank you' to him.
He smiled back, his expression gentle. Then Senno tugged at him, and he bent to the boy again.
"I got some real big ones. They're bright enough to light up my room, I think."
"They probably are," Anlia agreed. "But remember, Sen, you can't keep them caged up. They'll be happier flying free-- you'll have to let them go soon."
He responded equably enough, but she was so struck by her own words that she barely heard him.
Happier flying free. A hole yawned beneath her heart. Have to let him go soon.
Selkin was watching her again. A small, rueful smile played across his lips.
Oh, stars, why has it gotten so hard to think about?
~~~to be continued...
On to Chap. 10