Welcome to Gaia! ::

The Triumvirate warship Adelphia hung high in orbit around a vast, dead planetoid of magnetic ore. It was a giant ship, almost the size of a space station, designed to be a mobile fortress that slung through space like a giant bulldozer destroying anything in its path. Battlements faced in all directions, vast hanger bays opening onto all sides. Little pinpricks of plasma-valved missile chambers glowed red across its silvery hull.

Inside, its corridors were white, its floors silver. Panels and lights lined the walls. The people who strode through the belly of the ship wore uniforms of sleek white and navy trimmed in silver, a perfect match to their surroundings.

In one corridor, a man in the Navy of a starfighter pilot was joined by the white uniform of a bridge officer. "Going home?" asked the officer.

Landor Niela knew the officer's identity by voice, but he looked up in respect. Charles Angheroff Aberdeen, ranked admiral, and captain of the warship Adelphia. "Yes, sir."

Charles looked only ahead as they walked, his hat tucked under his arm. He cut an imposing figure. Over six feet, hair white against his tanned skin, eyebrows and sideburns still black. He was not old, in his early forties, but possessed a bearing and regal air equal any man twenty years his senior. "I'll walk with you."

Even had it been a request, Landor would have obeyed. He scratched his hand and smiled shyly. "Yes, sir." It was an easy game to play, especially for Landor, who had been in the military for almost twenty years now, a touch longer than Charles's own career.

"Your shift go well?"

"Yes, sir. And yours?"

Charles nodded curtly, his first display of anything less than military rigor. "It was well. I'm looking forward to your garden. Are the blue flowers in bloom yet?"

"The hydrangea. Yes."

"I though the hydrangeas were the pink ones?"

There mere a great many things of which Charles Aberdeen was extremely knowledgeable. Horticulture was not one of them. He viewed Landor's garden as a new curiosity, a chance to enjoy a hobby vicariously since Charles himself did not have time for such things. Landor was happy to explain. "Last year, yes. The flower color is dependant upon the soil acidity. By adding aluminum sulfate or lime, it's possible to affect the color." They passed one of the Adelphia's many captains and Charles tipped his head to the captain's salute.

Then Charles asked, "And yourself?" It was a hard question, but one Charles always asked when they neared the transit station. Landor sighed, unable to answer.

They entered the transit station together, the door sliding closed behind them, and a moment later they were automatically deposited on their street. Charles was always kind enough to wait until they were here to continue the conversation. He waited for Landor's answer. "I'm well enough," said Landor at last, and Charles put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm your neighbor first and foremost." When Charles said it, it meant more than the mere dictionary definition. Charles was one of the people who had formed the Neighborhood -- after he successfully negotiated the truce that ended the war, a truce he conceived of while spending six years in enemy prison -- and to Charles the Neighborhood meant more than the mere collection of allies and friends who lived there. Charles Aberdeen was a truly great man. Landor often wondered if his house being next to the celebrated admiral's was coincidence or part of some greater plan.

Landor smiled again, shy and sad. "I'll be fine." They parted ways, each man going to his own gate, and Landor waved to Charles from his doorway. Charles returned the gesture. Once inside, Landor could only again sigh and say the same thing he did every day. "Sorry, Charles."

His last stop of the day was a Gaia facility. Gaia was not a Triumvirate universe, but somehow one of the Three had gotten tangled up there, and as a result the Triumvirate maintained a few holdings. Technically, the Biotechnology Laboratory (which, had it been a Tinatian facility, would have had a much better name) was not in the Gaian universe. It was just so irrevocably attached that it was pure semantics to call it otherwise. Landor eased the shuttle down into the docking bay, ignored the flashing "NT Universe" warnings, and disengaged the hover. The shuttle sighed to the floor and threw up little clouds of dust. The docking bay at the Lab was not often used.

Landor was expected and was met by the Lab's director Dr. Akari and one of her underlings. "Doctor," Landor said in greeting. They knew each other from the war previous, though not spectacularly well. Akari had once offered to sleep with him, but he had declined. Since then, he rather thought she looked down on him.

Her voice, capable of such honeyed sweetness when she wanted, was cold and steely towards him. He did not think he had heard her offer anyone a kind word in nearly two years. Landor did not know her well enough to guess the reasons why. There was a time she could have been called inviting, but now the doors were closed.

"Commander," she said to him, took and reviewed the cargo manifesto. She had a lot of deliveries, some of them months overdue. Thankfully the static containers prevented any biological or organic compound spoilage. She brazenly marched into the shuttle and began to inventory everything there. Her underling followed.

Landor watched her from outside, hat in his arm, waiting for her to call him over or follow some semblance of procedure. When she emerged some minutes later she merely gave the databoard to her underling and informed him, "It will take us two hours to unload this. See everything gets put in the right place." Her tone implied that deliveries in the past had gotten misplaced, though it certainly could not have been any fault of the pilot's. She said to Landor, "We don't need you."

Landor struck his heels together and stood at attention. "As you wish, doctor." Dr. Akari paid him no attention and left the docking bay.

Landor looked at the lab assistant left standing with the databoard. The assistant shrugged. "There's an employee lounge down the hall to the right."

"Thank you," said Landor, mentally filing that as an authorization.

The lab was Earthlike in its design. Landor walked along the linoleum tiles, a design choice he had never fully understood. Tinatians preferred whole, unbroken building materials, and had excelled in advanced pouring techniques to create flawlessly complete floors with subtle gradients of color and translucent sheen. Their buildings rose in curving, artistic forms, corners rounded and smoothed to perfection. Here, the corners were all squared off, very Terran. One of the things Landor liked about the Adelphia was its seeming marriage of Terran and Tinatian aesthetics. His own home reflected that, in more natural tones.

It was a standard employee lounge. Basic kitchen appliances, vending machines. Landor helped himself to some green tea and took a seat at the table.

The lounge door opened. Landor looked up and found a familiar face. Shuuichi Kurata's surprise was plain, but not reflected in his perpetually calm voice. "Commander Niela."

"Shuuichi," greeted Landor, standing and offering Dr. Kurata his hand. Kurata was a scientist, a neurobiologist with specialties in things Landor could not even begin to define. He was also one of the calmest and most reserved members of the Triumvirate, steely in his resolve and silent in his anger.

"It has been too long," said Kurata.

"Since the war ended," agreed Landor.

Kurata helped himself to his own cup of tea. Tea had been the foundation of their acquaintance, a chance encounter in a busy tea shop some years ago when Landor was only newly-arrived in the Triumvirate. He and Kurata had similar demeanors and related to the people and events in the Triumvirate much the same way. It made for frequent conversations, before the war had ended and people had drifted apart into their own lives and stories. "What brings you to the Lab?"

"Delivery mission." Landor quickly unraveled the circumstances for Kurata: the usage of shuttles for peacetime deliveries, the specific delivery to the Lab, Dr. Akari's explicit instructions to not assist with the unloading.

Kurata listened quietly, sipped his tea. When Landor was finished, he placed the cup of tea down. "You might be more comfortable waiting in the garden."

This was typical of Kurata: listen carefully to others' problems and suggest beneficial alternatives. He was a capable administrator because of it, and while he was clearly not the head of the Lab, Landor did not doubt that Kurata's position was one of significance here, in addition to probably being highly classified. "There's a garden?" Kurata motioned for Landor to follow, out into the unmarked corridors past tightly-closed doors until they reached a front entrance filled with sunlight and Landor had to momentarily shield his eyes.

The courtyard was a fine size, beds of flowers surrounding a vast open grassy area. Rows of cabbages provided the focal point of the yard, and several chairs sat under a weeping shade tree beyond. It was quiet, sunny, with a faint fresh breeze. Drops of water clung to the flowers, the result of a recent misting. Landor took a deep breath. The one thing the Adelphia could never provide was the sweet scent of fresh air like this, tinged with the scent of flowers and plants.

Kurata touched Landor on the shoulder. "Someone will come to escort you when your ship is ready for departure."

"Thank you, Shuuichi."

Shuuichi merely waved the thanks away. "Call me." He returned to the building.

The flowers were small, decorative landscaping, not like the cultivated beauty of Landor's garden, but they were healthy and well-care for. Landor bent and examined the leaves and the flowers, admired the colors.

The noise of a child crying attracted Landor's attention. It was coming from several large, open windows on his right. Long white curtains shifted in the breeze. A woman appeared through the window, bent over, and lifted the crying child into her arms to comfort it. She noticed Landor through the window and smiled at him. She was rather pretty, soft golden curls of hair framing her round face, a happy smile. She waved her fingers at him, resting the child against her shoulder. Landor waved back and blushed slightly, He had not meant to spy. He returned his attention to the flowers.

Some minutes passed. A door opened. The girl he had seen through the window appeared, smiling. "Good day!" She wore a pretty blue and white striped dress and a white apron. Her headscarf reminded Landor of something he had seen in a historical Terran movie. Something like a nun's; Landor could not be more specific as he lacked knowledge of Earth history and culture.

"Good day," he answered. "I'm sorry for earlier."

"Oh?"

"I did not mean to intrude," Landor said sincerely.

She only laughed and waved her hand. "Oh, it's fine! I'm Ida." She stuck out her hand.

"Landor." They shook. "You work at the lab?"

Ida swished her long skirts. "No, I'm with the Sisterhood. I work at the Nursery."

"The Nursery?"

"I'll show you. Come on!" Ida took his hand and before he knew it Landor was following her inside.

He had not expected to find rows of cribs, twenty-one total, or children staring back at him, their faces wide with a mixture of fear, excitement, and curiosity. Those who were not sleeping, anyway.

"This is where the children from the cabbages come to wait for adoption," said Ida, as if she thought Landor was familiar with such things. She reached down and picked up a little girl with blonde hair not much different in shade from her own. "All these little ones, waiting to find homes!"

Landor always found the idea of orphanages depressing. Children with no families, no homes, no place to call their own. He was a fully-grown man, but in too many ways he was like them. His family and world had simply been taken from him later in life. He was saerchign for the same thgns they searched for, but for Landor, finding those things was an impossibility.

"Sister Ida," came a voice, and another woman in matching attire emerged from a door on the far side of the room.

"Sister Beatrice," said Ida smartly, and with just a hint of sauciness.

Beatrice eyed Landor with vague suspicion, but he was not paying his attention. His gaze had been caught by a child in one of the cribs, a little boy with his hands on the crib's railing. He was just tall enough to peer over, inky black eyes watching Landor from beneath a crop of shiny black hair. The boy's skin was patterned in black and white and there was a ruff of furry grey feathers beginning at his neck and running down the length of his arms. The tips of his pointy ears stuck out above the crib's railing. Landor waved his hand at the child, just as he had waved to Ida through the window. The little boy, with eyes so wide and so bright, smiled. Landor smiled back.

"I was just introducing Landor to the children," Ida said, tickling the chin of the little girl she held.

Beatrice was not amused. "Were you interested in adopting?" she required, quite ready to enforce the unwritten rule that existed in her mind stating only potential parents should be allowed into the Nursery.

Landor registered the question and his own answer surprised him. "Yes." After the initial moment of shock passed, he found it strangely inevitable. The little boy with the inky black eyes was still smiling at him.

"Ah," said Beatrice, a sure admission of defeat in her quest to pin some sort of infraction on Ida. The disappointment in her voice was totally lost on Landor, as was Ida's subsequent smug satisfaction at having outwitted Beatrice yet again. "Please inform me if you need anything." Beatrice moved into the back room again to continue her inventory.

Ida took the little girl she was holding and put her back in the crib. "That was good, Beatrice means well, but--"

"I'm sorry, could you excuse me a moment?" said Landor quickly. Ida was briefly stunned into silence by the interruption. No one interrupted her! (Which was the source of her little feud with Beatrice.)

"Sure," said Ida darkly, but Landor was already making his way back to the waiting room, looking back at the little boy as he did.

The paternity leave was easy. Preparing the spare room to be a nursery was easy. Requisitioning the supplies the average parent might need took about as much effort as ordering take-out, and the wait was shorter. Landor even knew exactly what he would need. He had helped Sylvia prepare for the arrival of her children and between the two of them they had developed a very meticulous checklist that Landor committed to memory.

Returning to the nursery at the lab was a bit more difficult. His hand shook when he filled out the final paperwork, even though as he was a Triumvirate citizen he barely had to write his name because all of his information was already a part of the system. It was the worst signature he had ever put to paper. He could not even recognize his own handwriting.

Seeing Grayson Healthcliff again, it all fell into place with the elegance of a trajectory equation. His life had been moving in one direction and based on the thrust and variables of local gravity sources and interstellar particles it had altered just so and he arrived at this moment in time.

Grayson smiled when he saw Landor again, because even though they had only met that one day previous, he had liked the quiet, gentle man a lot more than some of the other prospective parents who squealed and cooed. Not that there was anythign wrong with squealing and cooing, but Grayson had thought, the moment he set eyes on Landor, that this was the person who would be taking him home.

When they were outside the Nursery, Landor looked at the sky and the trees and the grass and felt the fraint breeze on his cheek and the weight of Grayson in his arm and his face flushed a little and he stammered slightly, but his sincerity was without question. "Grayson Heathcliff Niela, welcome to the world."

That was, Grayson felt, very appropriate, but even more so was what Landor said when they arrived at the little rounded cottage with its overflowing garden of pale purple and yellow flowers and cherry birdsong: "Welcome home."

It was just as if Grayson had been able to soar out the window of the Nursery and into the bright and sunny courtyard he had admired for so long. It was the equivalent of stepping into a storybook and finding everything just as pictured. He could scarcely contain himself. The minute they were inside, he wanted to see everything, touch everything, learn everything about this new place and this new man and this new world.

It was very late indeed when the excitement finally wore down and Grayson curled up beside Landor on the couch where Landor had been reading a story and closed his eyes, drifting off. Landor heard the faint cooing snores and put the storybook to the side. Reality was far more sweet.

Landor's life was quiet, but that did not mean he was lacking for friends, and while Landor's house was not a hotspot of activity, within the first few weeks Grayson had met almost everyone.

There was Charles, their neighbor to the right, who came to check on Landor almost immediately. Grayson was immediately impressed by how tall and regal Charles seemed to be. Towering above even Landor at six feet and two inches, Charles looked like a giant to Grayson. He had thick grey hair but dark eyebrows. Not only was Charles tall, but he was broad-shouldered and strong, too. When Landor needed to extract the wheelbarrow from under a load of bricks, it was Charles who helped and made it look easy.

Everyone who looked at Charles did so with awe and admiration. There was something so compelling and charismatic about Charles that made him seem like a hero. It was more than the obvious traits of honor and dignity. There was a tragedy about Charles, too, like something had elevated him above the rest of humanity, something great and terrible at the same time. From it, Charles had developed the ability to see the world as it truly was, devoid of the pettiness that clouded others.

Grayson did not have words to describe all of this, but at the same time, he understood, because it was impossible not to look at Charles and feel anything less than awe. Landor, too, admired Charles, but with a deeper fervency than Grayson at his young age could muster. The remarkable thing was that, as much as Landor and Grayson and everyone else in the neighborhood looked at Charles with admiration, Charles took an interest in Landor. It was clear from the first moment Charles stepped into the house that he wanted to verify Landor's well-being. Meeting Grayson was a secondary objective, and once Charles had introduced himself and come away with the impression that Landor was in good condition, he had left. He returned again often, hanceforth to check up on Landor and Grayson both. Grayson perceived that Charles was kind enough, but whatever set him apart from the rest of the world prevented Charles from truly being friends with Grayson. He was more like a guardian and protector who was comfortable joining them at the dinner table.

Then there was Tarquinia D'Ardea, someone Grayson immediately liked. Charles was like a towering behemoth of unattainability, but Tarquinia was approachable from the first second Grayson saw her. She was a true rebel at heart. With a conspiratorial smile and a patient, friendly nature, she was someone to whom Grayson could actually talk. She always listened, too, with an attentiveness and respect not found in most adults who converse with small children. She and her girlfriend, (EmforgothernameXD), lived on the other side of Charles' house. She liked Landor, that much was obvious, but it was just as easy for her to like people as it was for people to like her, and she seemed to respect Landor's privacy and not push her friendship on him. Grayson was a different matter, since they got along instantly, and any time Tarquinia saw Grayson playing in the yard she would come to the fence to chat with him. Every so often Landor, who was always within earshot, would even contribute something to the conversation. With her short cropped navy hair and boyish looks, she was not typically pretty, but Grayson figured out rather quickly she was awesome in style, and that was better than mere good looks.

Grayson had not yet fully decided what to make of Apollonius Linderham, who lived to the left. Lindsey, as he was called by everyone, worried a bit too much about propriety and what other people might think. He did things because they were expected of him. That included talking to his neighbor Landor on occasion, or saying hello to Grayson, but not much more. Polite, but simultaneously impolite, because in some sense Lindsey wasn't interested in anything more than mere acquaintance with his neighbors. He seemed to work a lot, and at least every other conversation was about his duties. Grayson got the impression work was very, very important to Lindsey, to the exclusion of people. Grayson found that a little pitiful.

The house across from them had seemed at first to be empty, until one day, it wasn't, and Marvin Fulkirk entered Grayson's life. He was charming, quick-witted, and, he explained when Grayson asked about his seemingly late appearance, he worked for long stretches and then took breaks for equally long stretches. "When you haven't got anyone depending on you," said Marvin, "you can live by that sort of a schedule." He said it with a knowing wink at Landor, and for his charming humor, Grayson liked Marvin a lot. He was further convinced of his opinion when it became clear Marvin and Tarquinia also got along. Marvin was a little distant, not seeming to want to get too attached to anyone, including Grayson, but unlike Lindsey, Marvin liked to interact with people for the pleasure of it, and was more than happy to answer Grayson's questions about the world. He did not always know the answers, but Marvin was happy to listen and even laugh at his own shortcomings when there were questions he could not answer.

And then Sylvia. Grayson only knew her from photographs in Landor's house and from overhearing Landor's half of conversations on the comm, but he thought he could almost feel Sylvia's presence in the house. There was something more to Sylvia. She was important to Landor, probably the most important person aside from Grayson, but Grayson did not know her. It seemed odd, to be two such important people to Landor and never meet. Landor did invite her over, but she always declined, and when Grayson asked about Sylvia, Landor would only say, "She's busy with her own life," and change the subject. Grayson quietly wondered why.

On the last Sunday, Shuuichi Kurata and his daughters came for dinner instead of Charles Aberdeen. It was the first time Shuuichi had seen Landor's house and garden and he was quietly impressed with how well Landor had held together in the wake of the Conference that had granted Landor this property. He was even more impressed with the kind, calm little boy Landor had adopted.

"Hiii," Grayson sang characteristically when he opened the front door. Shuuichi's daughters reacted in opposite fashions. The elder, Naomi, reacted with shy surprise, but a moment later her social graces kicked in and she bowed and said, "Hajimemashite!" The younger, Minako, was not shy in the slightest, but grabbed hold of her father with jealous possessiveness and glowered as if to say this was her father and no intrusions were welcome. Grayson only smiled back, and when Shuuichi prompted, Minako repeated Naomi's foreign greeting in darkly reluctant tones. Naomi was dressed quite plainly but Minako's dress could have been a wedding cake with all its ribbons.

Landor hastened them inside and Grayson watched curiously as the visitors removed their shoes and stepped into house slippers Landor had thoughtfully provided. Grayson himself wore no shoes, since shoes were not much suited to his feet, though he did own a pair of sandals made specially for him that he wore whenever he and Landor would be going somewhere with concrete.

The introductions were passed around and Minako, who was a handful of years older than Grayson and not much larger, found her way to a corner with a storybook and Shuuichi gently deterred Grayson from trying to interact with the sullen child. "Ace, why don't you and Mina set the table?" Landor said, and Grayson was just as charmed to go spend time with the elder Naomi, though he kept Minako in the back of his mind.

Dinner was something thoroughly new to Grayson, but from the very start it became Grayson's favorite thing ever. Sashimi and sushi, Shuuichi called it, a delicacy of his homeland. Landor seemed to enjoy it, too, but Grayson had to smack his lips at the smell of the fresh fish and slurped down pieces with such enthusiasm Landor went bug-eyed with worry and said, "Grayson, chew your food!" Naomi giggled at Grayson's enthusiasm and perhaps, if Grayson's skin had been more revealing, he might have been found to be blushing.

Naomi was a very attentive and kind companion, much as Grayson himself was, and under her careful supervision (and within arm's reach of Shuuichi) Grayson finally did manage to play with Minako after dinner. The rules were easy enough to figure out. Do exactly what Minako wanted, and if you wanted to propose something different, make it so it seemed like Minako had thought it up.

Grayson got the impression Minako was not a very nice person and felt bad for her, wondering why that was, but unlike Landor, Minako's pain was tightly walled up. It would be a long process to find that pain and take it out. Thankfully her sister and father were very patient with her, even if Shuuichi was only patient because Naomi did most of the direct interaction.

When they visited Grayson's room, Minako seized upon one of Grayson's plushies, a furry brown dog, and would not let it go. Naomi was distressed by her sister's behavior and tried to intervene. "You can have it," said Grayson, smiling at Minako and Naomi both.

"But it's yours," protested Naomi.

"That's okay! I have more."

"I want all your toys," glowered Minako.

"You can carry them in my wagon," offered Grayson, and for some reason this disgusted Minako so much she threw the dog plush at him. Later, when they were preparing to leave, Naomi said: "That was very nice of you, Grayson," but when she said his name it was gu-ray-son. Grayson suddenly straightened in surprise and ran back to his room, returning with the plush in hand.

"Here, you forgot this," he said to Minako, having a feeling that Minako had wanted the toy because she really did like it.

"That's not ours," said Shuuichi.

"It's a gift!" Grayson beamed happily up at Shuuichi. Shuuichi looked genuinely surprised that anyone had liked Minako enough to give her a gift. Grayson, he decided, was a very, very special boy, and it was a crying shame that had Grayson been one of Shuuichi's research subjects, Shuuichi would not have rescued the boy. Shuuichi had adopted his two daughters partly because they had been so thoroughly damaged. This was also the reason Shuuichi had befriended Landor. Where Landor was concerned, Grayson was perfect.

"Say thank-you," Shuuichi instructed his glaring daughter. Minako did not immediately comply with the order.

"It's okay," said Grayson, "you already said thank-you."

That, in the end, was even kinder gift than the act of giving the toy had been, and Minako left quietly wide-eyed at this unusual generosity. The little brown dog became her favorite of all her animals, for when she hugged Puru-san, it felt a little more special than when she hugged any of her other stuffed animals. It was the lingering feeling of that moment when someone, a virtual stranger, had done something so nice for her for no reason without expecting anything in return.