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The Child watched safely from the dash as Din worked on removing the access panel from the control board. Luckily, he only had to make a minor repair. He counted that as a win. Fixing a jamming lever was practically a vacation compared to patching up blaster holes or sealing off a completely compromised hull. Plus, he wouldn’t have to listen to Peli chiding him about the state of his Razor Crest again.
Once it was completely off its screws, Din set it aside and poked his head in. Just as he thought, a seized screw. “Hey Kid, hand me the screw extractor, would you?” He held out his hand, fairly confident he’s receive the correct tool. He’d been teaching the Child what things were around the ship. When they started their journey together, Din learned fast that 90% of what the Kid touched ended up in his mouth. So, he showed him what was safe to touch, what was completely off limits, what was and wasn’t food, ect. The kid seemed to pick up pretty quick, although shiny things still tempted him.
Whether he got the right tool or not, though, it at least gave the Kid a chance to practice his skills.
He felt a tool float down into his hands. He poked his head out to check and, as hoped, it was the screw extractor. “Jate, ad’ika,” Din said, patting The Child on the head. He started to duck back into the control board when a tiny hand touched the top of his helmet.
“Jate.”
Din practically smashed his head on the rim of the opening when he heard that word spoken in a childish coo. He looked up at the Child, still sitting nonchalant on the dash. “Wha-what did you just say?”
“Jate,” the Child said, giving his helmet a light tap.
No, no this was a fluke or something. It had to be. The Child could babble, sure, but he hadn’t heard it use words…yet….
He had to test this. Din reached for the Child again and patted his head. “Jate.”
The child reached out and tapped the helmet. “Jate.”
Din patted the Child’s head again. “Jate.”
The Child tapped Din’s helmet again. “Jate”
Another pat. “Jate.”
Another tap. “Jate.”
A rare chuckle escaped Din’s lips and he reached faster. “Jate.”
Giggling, The Child tapped faster. “Jate.”
Their game became rapid fire as they took turns tapping each other on the head and saying “jate,” until The Child fell over, squealing with laughter.
A smile formed on Din’s face while his heart grew light. He plucked the child off the dash and ruffled his wispy, white hairs. “Ori’jate, ad’ika! Mirdala!”
Still laughing, The Child reached for his helmet again. “Jate ad-ad-ck… add-ick…”
“Okay, okay, don’t hurt yourself,” Din said, smoothing back the Child’s hair. “You’re very bright, Kid. You know that? As soon as you learn more words, I probably won’t be able to shut you up.”
It was true, come to think of it. The Child was certainly getting more vocal lately. He barely made a sound when Din first found him and stayed hidden in his pod. Now he babbled at seemingly everything. He was exploring a lot more too, which, unfortunately meant getting into things and finding trouble. But it also meant watching the Child explore and try things for himself.
Din recalled when he was first found. For the first few weeks, he kept to himself, hardly said a word. He was set up with the other foundlings, children from all over the galaxy. They’d invite him to come play with them, but he’d stay curled up on his bunk, thinking, trying to remember his parents and his home without remembering the chaos that took them away.
His founders were kind to him. They tried to talk to him. They told him he was one of them now, if he wanted to be. But he still felt paralyzed, trapped in that bunker, listening to everyone he’d ever known dying outside.
Little by little, he eased out of his shell. He went from hiding on his bunk, to watching the children play from the sidelines, to accepting their invitations, to asking to play, to inviting the new foundlings to join in their game. He started talking more, started exploring more. And now, so was this Child.
He feels safe, Din realized. He knows he doesn’t have to be afraid with me.
The realization shouldn’t have been a shock, but the more he thought about it, the truer it felt. He could only speculate about the Child’s life before, but being held in an encampment in the middle of nowhere by armed guards wasn’t a good sign. And, as no one in that encampment was the same species as the Child, he was clearly taken from his home. Or, his home was taken from him. How much freedom did the Child have before? How much affection? How much care? Did anyone see this Child as a living creature rather than as an asset? Or was Din the first?
You are safe here, he thought as he nestled the Child in the crook of his arm. I’ll make sure of that.
“Okay, enough play time for now. I’m going to fix this lever, then we’ll be on or way. Sound good?”
The Child looked up at him, his tiny hand reaching out. He tapped the helmet one more time. “Jate.”