Page 19 of The Alien Reindeer's Bounty
Mads waited patiently until the machine finished, all the while Karl rambled. “Do you know how many mate bonds have occurred in the last decade? None. Absolutely none. You were one of the last. I suppose the authorities,” he spat out the word, “told you that your bond was fiction and then wanted to slice open your brain. I’m glad you didn’t. I’m glad. They told me my bond with Shelly was all in my head. Ha! Of course it is. That’s where our hormonal glands are. What allows us to form mate bonds is in our heads. Sadly, those glands have been underdeveloped for the last, let me think, five generations or so. A degenerative disease, but no one wants to admit we’re diseased. I suppose by now no one has functional hormonal glands necessary for bonding. No worries. I’ll find a way to reverse the damage. When I deliver a cure, they won’t be able to ignore me then, not with a cure.”
The panels finally ascended, revealing his uncle pacing and running his hands through his already messy hair.
“Will you need to scan my mate?” Mads wanted to help his uncle’s research but he felt an impulse to keep Odessa as far away from Karl as possible.
“Hmm? Oh, no. That line of inquiry was a dead end. My research is so far beyond that now. But perhaps if I had a fresh subject—”
“Have you eaten today?” Or showered? Or performed the most basic tasks of hygiene and self-care?
“There’s no time. Now let’s see what’s happening inside that head of yours.” Karl activated the computer terminal and images projected above the workbench. The images—presumably Mads’ brain scan—flickered. The machines Karl used were no longer the cutting edge of reilendeer technology. When Karl refused to return to Reilen all those years ago, he chose exile from his people, his herd, with no funding or support. Mads wondered if the isolation made Karl unstable. Reilendeer were social creatures, craving companionship.
“How is your father?” Karl asked, voice casual and almost disinterested. His act did not fool Mads.
“Dead.” He lit his father’s funeral pyre last year. Part of him regretted that he could not make peace with his sire, but Arne had never tried to bridge the gap between them, either. He only saw their differences and blamed Mads for any perceived defect. Arne had been a distant authoritarian figure when Mads was young, but he had grown harsher over the years. Arne had been the one to drag Mads to the re-education center. Arne had been the one to authorize the testing and endless attempts to sever a bond they insisted never existed in the first place.
Once Mads had reached his majority, he spoke to his father only on rare occasions. Mandatory military service kept him away—thankfully. Something had turned Arne’s spirit bitter. Mads had assumed it was an unwanted tour of duty on Earth, providing security as his scientist brother conducted research, but nothing had improved when they returned to Reilen.
He had not been the one to stab a knife in the old bull’s gut—a drunken bar brawl took care of that—but he felt no anger toward the male who had.
Karl nodded. “We have each other in our herd.” Then, almost under his breath, “Such that it is.”
“How did you know that no mate bonds have occurred?” Mads asked, directing his thoughts away from the quality of the herd formed by a male with an impossible mate bond and an old bull who spent far too long alone. “You’re in exile.”
“I still have a few like-minded contacts on Reilen. And we’re in exile.” Karl clasped him on the shoulder. “The Council may not believe the extinction of the mate bond is important, but we know better. When I was a calf, several generations lived together in a herd. Bonded mates, calves, those who never took a mate, extended family who needed a home. Anyone and everyone. It was very typical. We’re social beings. We crave contact and our social structure was organized around a large, multi-generational herd. Now? A bull and his calf or a doe and her child. They call that lonely pairing a herd.” Karl spat on the ground.
“Why does it matter? A mate bond is not necessary for reproduction.” Calves happened often enough before the bonding decline, an era his uncle held in such fond nostalgia.
“You don’t listen, do you? Because we’re social beings. Without a mating bond, we grow cruel and bitter.” Karl turned his attention back to his workbench and the flickering projected images of Mads’ brain scan. “I don’t know how you could live with your father and still ask that question.”
Mads suspected his father’s troubles ran deeper than a lack of a bonded mate.
“If that’s all, I’m rather busy,” Karl said.
“I came for my documentation.” Twelve years ago, he had a birth certificate and dual passports. He could forge the necessary documentation for a new identity, but he wanted to slip back in Mads Sommerfeldt’s life, if possible.
“Over there.” Karl waved to a cluttered table in a small kitchenette area.
Mads sat at the table and worked through the small box resting on top. He found an envelope containing his original—forged—birth certificate proclaiming that he was born in Trondheim, Norway. The Norwegian passport was a fake of the highest caliber, but the US citizenship and passport were real. The envelope also contained a new passport with a recent image of Mads.
“How much did this cost? I will repay you.” Mads had some savings and a small inheritance from his father, but reilendeer money was useless on Earth. He emptied his accounts for gemstones and precious metals. Diamonds were frightfully common, but humans were willing to pay far too much for a pretty rock. With careful planning, he would have enough funds for several years. He could not imagine that Karl had any savings or resources left unless the same friends who fed him information also fed him supplies.
“Do not worry. I sold a piece of tech,” Karl said with a dismissive wave.
“Tell me you were not so irresponsible,” Mads said with an irritated growl. He could not believe Karl would be so thoughtless. True, they were both in exile from Reilen, but their safety depended on remaining undetected by human governments. Mads did not want to spend the rest of his life in a government facility being poked and prodded. He had enough of that already.
“Relax. It was the thumbprint reader tech. They were only a few years from developing it themselves.”
“You sold a piece of reilendeer tech.” No matter how small or inconsequential, a piece of alien tech in human hands could be bad for them. If he were smart, he’d leave behind the foolish notion of being Mads Sommerfeldt again and pay for a brand-new identity.
“I sold the schematics. No one will trace it back.”
Mads did not believe that at all.
“Now if you don’t mind, you’re very distracting. My work is important,” Karl said, returning his attention back to the series of brain scans hovering over the workbench.
Mads made the return two-hour drive back to town, all the while turning over Karl’s words. Well, some of his words. Mads skipped the ranting bits and focused on what he said about being a social creature. Clearly, isolation had not done Karl any favors. He should move closer to his uncle if only to help the old bull hold on to his remaining sanity, and to help himself avoid the same fate.
He made contact with his mate, which was the first step to winning her heart.
