Bastion Science Fiction Magazine - Issue 4, July 2014 by Alex Hernandez George S. Walker Eleanor R. Wood Robert Quinlivan Peter Medeiros Hannah Goodwin R. Leigh Hennig Read Free Book Online Page A

her,” Ojore rasped, between coughs of thick green water. They faltered, physically and mentally, in the presence of this jewel-encrusted totem of some long-forgotten, tempestuous sea goddess.
    The trio spoke for a while, mostly guarded chit-chat, but it served to put them all at ease. The trick was to focus on the sultry voice on the radio and imagine it was only tangentially associated to the ghastly creature before them. However, Ignacio was having a hard time ignoring the three glassy domes it had for eyes, each one absorbing his electromagnetic aura.
    “Have you decided to father aquatic young or are you still exploring the possibility?”
    The question caught Ignacio by surprise. He combed his hair back with his fingers, it was greasy with alien algae, and gave the question some serious thought. Intellectually, he was still unsure—still exploring—but in his heart he had already decided. In fact he was quite literally waist deep in it now. “We have decided,” he said sooner than he expected.
    Ojore looked at him with a strange mixture of shock and joy and dread. Where they really doing this?
    Wahgohi’s spines flared and then settled back down on her broad, slick back and Ignacio wished he knew more about their body language. He knew, for instance, the pulsating scales—like ruffled hummingbird feathers—were its form of respiration. The Mokoani breathed directly through their skin, but he couldn’t tell if she was pleased or disappointed with his answer. Her hard, thick lips and yellow bulbous eyes remained inscrutable to him.
    “What about you?” he asked.
    He waited, not sure if the static on his comm was hesitation or the translator working, but eventually she said, “I still have some reservations.” The synthetic voice made her sound weary all of a sudden. This wasn’t a young creature. She maybe had a cycle or two left of fertility.
    He knew, without turning, that Ojore’s face had dimmed slightly at her confession, but he appreciated her honesty so instead he focused on the large Piscean maw before him, desperately trying to discern her emotional state. What kind of person would agree to incubate a little invader from space?
    “You’re so different from us,” she continued. “Why would you have children so different from yourselves?”
    Ah, she was wondering the same about them. This reassured him somewhat. They had the same doubts, which meant they probably shared some basic values.
    Ojore took one sloshing step closer to the native. “Look at us, being propped up in our little toy suits against this planet’s gravity, the sun and the sea spray irritating our eyes and skin. We weren’t made for this world, but we can’t leave it. Ours was a one way trip. And even if we could, I don’t think we would. I love this world. So the best we can do now it allow our children to live and thrive here.” He rapped a knuckle on the full-body brace he’d been forced to wear for more than a decade now.
    Of course, there was no change in her expression, but something in her voice was slipping away like a half-remembered dream. “You do understand that it’ll be very difficult for you to be a part of your child’s life? The Mokoani live in large schools that roam this entire world. You can visit with your submersibles and you can dive with us when our migration routes take us close to the surface, but…” she didn’t finish, only slapped her great fluke against the surface of the water, the resulting waves unbalancing the two humans.
    Ignacio steadied himself by grabbing hold of Ojore. When the water settled he said, “We’ve spoken to other human parents of aquatic children and they say it’s tough, but the joy they get during those visits eclipses all the time apart.” He hated that he sounded like one of the brochures—like Dr. Nakamura—so he shrugged and added, “Besides, we can’t seem to have children of our own on this planet.”
    “Have you been a surrogate before?” Ojore