Page 14 of The First Child
A soft chime interrupts whatever she was about to say, announcing an incoming priority communication. The holographic display activates automatically, revealing General Vex’s familiar features overlaid with the timestamp that indicates our council session begins in less than two hours.
“Commander. Captain Blaxton.” His expression carries the weight of concerning news. “I’m afraid there’s been a development that complicates today’s proceedings.”
My stomach tightens with anticipation of whatever diplomatic crisis has emerged overnight. “What kind of development?”
“The Terran Colonial Authority has filed a formal petition with the joint council, requesting that Aniska be transferred to their research facility on Europa Station for comprehensive study of hybrid development patterns.”
The words hit me like physical impact. The TCA—an organization known for prioritizing scientific advancement over individual welfare—wants to turn Aniska into a test subject. To study her as if she were a laboratory specimen rather than a child who’s already lost everything.
“On what grounds?” Hada’s voice carries a dangerous calm that precedes violence.
“They claim that hybrid children represent a significant advancement in human evolution, and that proper scientific analysis requires controlled environmental conditions.” Vex’s markings shift to the deep red that indicates barely controlled anger. “They’ve produced documentation suggesting that emotional bonding could interfere with objective assessment of her abilities.”
“They want to isolate her.” The realization emerges as a whisper, but it carries the weight of absolute certainty. “Remove her from any meaningful connection so they can map her telepathic development without variables.”
“That’s the essence of their petition, yes.”
I watch Hada’s face cycle through expressions of disbelief, fury, and something that looks like barely restrained murder. Her grip on Aniska tightens protectively, and the empathic field around them both flares with defensive energy.
“Over my dead body,” she says quietly.
“Mine as well,” I find myself adding, surprised by the vehemence in my own voice. “Aniska is not a research specimen. She’s a child who deserves love, stability, and the chance to develop her abilities in safety.”
“The TCA has significant political influence,” Vex warns. “They argue that human and Zephyrian emotional attachment could limit her potential, that scientific objectivity requires separation from ‘biasing factors.’“
“Biasing factors.” Hada repeats the phrase like it tastes poisonous. “They’re talking about love like it’s a contamination.”
“To them, it is. The TCA views emotion as interference with optimal development.” My markings flare with bioluminescent patterns that reflect my growing outrage. “They would strip away everything that makes her who she is in service of their research goals.”
“Then we stop them.”
The absolute certainty in Hada’s voice makes something fundamental shift in my chest. Not just determination, but fierce protective instinct that recognizes no authority higher than the child’s wellbeing. Watching her hold Aniska while radiating that kind of primal defensiveness awakens feelings I thought I successfully suppressed decades ago.
“How?” I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer.
“We prove that emotional connection doesn’t limit her development—it enhances it. We show the council what happened last night, demonstrating that love and stability are exactly what she needs to reach her full potential.”
“That would require revealing details of your empathic bond that could be considered classified under telepathic privacy statutes.”
“Then we declassify them.” Her eyes meet mine, and I see reflected there the same fierce protectiveness that’s currently burning through my own consciousness. “Whatever it takes to keep her safe.”
“The council session begins in ninety minutes,” Vex reminds us. “I’ll forward all relevant documentation, but you should be prepared for intense scrutiny from both sides.”
The transmission ends, leaving us alone with the weight of impending confrontation. Aniska, seemingly oblivious to the political storm surrounding her, has fallen asleep against Hada’s shoulder with the absolute trust that only children possess.
“Ninety minutes to save her future,” Hada says quietly.
“Ninety minutes to redefine what that future might look like.”
She looks up at me, and for the first time since we met, I see past her military composure to the vulnerability beneath. “Are you sure about this? Standing against the TCA won’t make you any friends in the scientific community.”
“I’m sure.” The words emerge without hesitation, carrying conviction that surprises us both. “Aniska deserves better than becoming a research project. She deserves to be loved, protected, given every opportunity to become who she’s meant to be.”
“Even if that means sharing custody with a human who doesn’t know the first thing about raising children?”
“Especially then.” I move closer, drawn by the need to offer comfort and reassurance. “You gave her more healing in one night than months of Zephyrian techniques could provide. That’s not ignorance—that’s exactly the kind of intuitive understanding she needs.”
“And if the council disagrees?”
