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Their beloved Dr. Ayda Mensah returns to them months late, pounds lighter, and with a corporate surveillance machine attached. Quite literally, it seems, when Ayda returns to the hotel’s antechamber with it trailing behind her, pulled along by their interlaced fingers. It is just as tall, imposing, and stone-faced as Farai dreaded. Yet there’s a soft smile on Ayda’s face when she whispers. “Tano, Farai. My loves. This is SecUnit.”
SecUnit.
What kind of person would choose that for a name? Farai doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but its minute shift in expression isn’t helping. She’d put it somewhere between annoyed and unimpressed, looking over all their heads. Bored, perhaps. Like it’s too good to even look at them.
“Pleased to meet you,” Tano drags up from somewhere. Farai tries something similar, searching for a moment of friendly eye contact. But her courage fails her as she hits its proverbial wall: It remains unresponsive, aloof, and unwilling to come down from wherever it’s staring at. Farai’s eyes are dragged downwards, gravitating to those still interlocked fingers.
Ayda must notice, because she steps in front of it. An odd action, like she wants to shield it as Ayda would shield one of their offspring from a crowd. Or Farai herself, when the journalists and dignitaries become too much and Farai would start to doubt herself. But ‘SecUnit’ is too tall to be hidden in this manner, nor does it look like someone that would require protection. Least of all from her and Tano, who couldn’t pose a threat to such an impressive figure even if they tried.
Could they?
Ayda smiles, encouraging. Their eyes meet, yet she makes her stance wider. Farai sees something in that, a plea in Ayda’s eyes. To remind Farai of all those times she had done this for Farai? Ayda never wavered then, proud and protective. Ayda would somehow convince Farai that to Ayda, being her shield was an honor. Like it was nothing to be ashamed of, to need protection sometimes. The same seems to be true now.
Oh.
Farai takes a breath. She wants to try and look at it again, but stalls at the minute shake of Ayda’s head. She stares at Ayda instead, noting the little crinkle of joy around her eyes as she speaks. “Sec-Unit. Welcome.”
Tano takes half a step forward, aware that something transpired between her and Ayda, but not quite sure what. Farai instantly feels bad, yet she can hardly explain logically what is only a speck of intuition. Perhaps later, when she understands more. She gives Tano an encouraging smile as well and he looks back at her a moment, then plasters on his best welcoming smile. Confused, but willing to follow her lead. “Yes. Sec-Unit. I hope you will like Preservation.”
“I don’t like planets.”
It finally spoke. Its voice isn’t loud, but clear and pleasant, if a little flat. Yet its words sting. And Farai can’t help but notice it maneuvered a little to the left, keeping Ayda perfectly between it and Tano.
“Oh.” Tano falters. It’s a statement he probably can’t wrap his head around. Tano loves their home, loves nature and their culture and the world they’ve built with their own hands. Farai feels the same. As, she knows, does Ayda.
How are they supposed to make this work? How is Ayda supposed to make this work? She loves the farm, the place they’ve built with their own six hands. The home they’ve made, for themselves and their children. No, this can never work. Not for Ayda. She’d—
“SecUnit would prefer to stay on the station.”
Ayda’s voice is authoritative. Like this is obvious, and natural.
“Which is fine. I still have a lot of work to do as well, and my office on station is better connected in that regard. It might be a while before we can visit the farm.”
“Oh.” Tano finally manages, sounding only half as disappointed as Farai knows he is.
Farai is more confused than anything. The farm—the planet is Ayda’s home. The place she feels safest. The place where she blooms. She needs to return there, to heal. Surely, the—SecUnit can understand that? Surely, it would not want to stand in the way of her recovery. And how can it say it doesn’t like planets? Ayda brought home rescue after rescue before this one, and however they felt about the outdoor life before, the farm had helped heal all of them.
Yet Farai tries to banish that thought. Perhaps it just needs a little time to get used to the idea. Some of the corporates Ayda has brought by over the years have had the strangest preconceptions about planets and farm-life. About non-corporate polities as well. For instance, Gurathin had confided just last year that he’d expected their toilets to be a pit out in the bush when he’d first come by.
“Thank you for...”
Their eyes meet, only a moment. Farai soldiers on despite the sudden chill, “—bringing our wife back safely.”
Farai feels her voice trail off weakly, yet she makes up by broadening her smile. It won’t see, its eyes already wandered off and up. Over and above her. Yet if anything, Farai would say that its expression is one of mild shock. Bolstered, Farai continues. “I don’t even want to think of what might have happened if you hadn’t saved our Ayda. We owe you—”
It makes a sound then, something weird, in its throat. Farai blinks. Has it just turned two shades paler? “I need to—” It scowls at the door leading out into the hotel hallways, then abruptly it lets go of Ayda’s hand and turns back around, towards where it came from. “I’m going back to my room.”
Ayda smiles, even when the door is slammed shut, calling after it: “Thank you for coming out and meeting my partners.” Then, when she turns back to them, she winces apologetically. “A little too much for it, I guess.”
Tano frowns, probably annoyed. But with Ayda free of it for the moment, Farai practically falls onto her. Wrapping her brave, strong Ayda in her arms. After a moment, Tano joins in. Their Ayda had been gone. Who they had expected to only see again in a casket. In a best-case scenario. All the emotions flow out at once. There are hugs, there are kisses. There are tears. But they are tears of joy and relief, finally.
There are more bones to Ayda’s structure. Something sinewy and dry to her that hadn’t been there before. Like she aged a decade within a few months. But Farai pays it no mind. Feeling Ayda, knowing she’s here, she’s back, she’s safe… It’s almost too much. The rest will be okay now, as well.
“Sweethearts,” Ayda finally says. “We’re going to install cameras here tomorrow. So please don’t do this here again.”
For some reason, that makes Farai burst out laughing.