Most of the characters in this story are the property of ABC TV and other entities, and I do not have any permission to borrow them. Not that I think ABC will notice; it certainly isn't taking very good care of them. However, no infringement is intended, and this story is not for profit. All other characters are my property, and if you want to mess with them, you have to ask me first. Feedback is most appreciated.



Spinner



The old man walked slowly across the dusty ground toward the tree on the other side of the vegetable garden. He adjusted his breather carefully, inhaling the richer oxygen but deploring its flat and sterile smell, and settled down in the deep shade of the tree. He flexed his creaky fingers in their supple gloves, then tucked the pillow he'd brought with him behind his back and leaned against the rough bark of the tree trunk. Then, as he'd expected, the children saw him.

They came running and bounding, full of energy, though they carefully skirted the garden. "Elder! Tell us a story," they begged as they neared, and he smiled.

"I will if you'll settle down," he replied, and they dropped down obediently, carefully edging within the shade of the tree. A couple of them immediately picked up cast-off purple leaves to fiddle with, but he ignored their fidgeting. He waited until they were all settled and quiet, their eyes focusing on him, before beginning.

"Long ago, in the Time Before...there lived a little boy." He let his gaze drift past them, over the greeny-blue vegetation of the garden, to the deep hard violet-blue of the sky. "He was a good boy, always doing what his mother told him, for he knew that survival depended on obedience. Not just his survival, but that of his whole species."

The children nodded. Everybody knew that. The old man smiled again and went on. "He had siblings, but he was the smartest of them, and when he grew old enough, he was taken away to be trained as a chameleon--a great honor. Only the best could hope for that."

The children grew rapt at that. The chameleons were from the Time Before-- half-legendary figures of a war that had ended long before their parents were born. The old man remembered them personally, though, and he blessed the fact that they were no longer needed.

"The boy did well in his training. He showed a natural aptitude for the skills he was taught, and it was not long before his mentor believed him to be one of the best he had ever trained."

"What was his name?" one of the children asked.

"Tom." The old man's eyes clouded with memory, and he raised one hand to twitch his breather again. "His name was Tom, and he was born a prince."

Faint, high clouds cast a thin veil over the fierce sun, but the children paid no attention to the sky. "What happened?" an older girl asked.

The old man's fingers slid gently against his palm. "Tom was one of those selected to be a leader--one of those whose destiny was foretold long before his birth. As such, he got the best of training, but his skills made him part of the chameleon program as well. And he carried out his assignments with loyalty and thoroughness...until the day he was ordered to eliminate a child."

There was a stir and a rustle at that. Young were to be protected, not harmed. The old man blessed the fact that things had changed so much since the story he related had taken place. *There was a time...* He pulled his thoughts back to the tale.

"At the time," he reminded them, "that was permitted. It was a war."

The children subsided. They knew their history. "Did he do it?" one asked breathlessly.

The storyteller shook his head. "No. He was about to carry out his assignment when the boy's mother came in. And she pleaded for her son's life. Tom let the boy live, and went away to think. All his life he had been taught that human life was of no value, and that the human emotions he could sense were useless things of the past. But he began to wonder.

"But he did not tell his mentor that he had not completed his task." A hint of a smile crossed the weathered face at the expressions of disapproval that a few children showed. "He was confused, so he was silent. And then he was assigned a new target."

The old man closed his eyes, summoning a picture that he could describe to his listeners.

"She was a scientist, one who had begun to discover the secret of our species, our existence. In fact, her own mentor was eliminated. But Tom was told to get close to her, to find out what she knew, and then to kill her.

"She shone like a Renaissance princess--rich red hair and rich, deep emotions. The first time Tom met her he was struck to the heart by her-- though at the time he would never have admitted to having a heart. She glowed with feeling, with compassion, with warmth--he had never met anyone like her. And he was enchanted. Whenever he was near her, he felt what she felt, will he or not.

"That did not hinder him in his plans, however. His skills served him well as he made his way into her life. She trusted him, all unknowing of what he was and what he meant to do, and while that was what he intended, it still touched him. She was as intelligent as one of his own kind, possessed of discipline and intuition both, and gradually it came to him that he did not want to her to die, even though she was a grave danger to his people. Even more than that, he realized, he did not want her death to be at his hands."

He paused a moment, opening his eyes to look around. None of the children appeared restless or bored, so he went on.

"Dr. Sloan Parker, however, had little notion of the danger she was in, and her courage would not have allowed danger to stop her anyway. He grew to admire her strength of purpose. But the time came for him to eliminate her, and he bowed to his duty and went to carry out his mission.

"Somehow she sensed what he meant to do, and fled from him. It would have been easy for him to catch her, a mere moment's effort, but he found himself reluctant. Instead he chased her, wondering and confused at his own hesitation, until she managed to escape. He watched her go, and when she was gone, it was as though he had woken from a dream, or a spell. Disgusted with himself, he went to her home to await her. This time he would accomplish what he was supposed to do.

"The police came with her, but their search was laughable, and Tom waited until Sloan was alone before emerging from hiding. In a moment she was in his grasp, terrified and helpless." The old man swallowed against his dry throat at the image. "It was as though he held some trembling, fragile bird in his hands; her neck would be as easy to snap as the spine of a feathered creature. She knew what he was, and why he was there, but she would not give in. So frightened she could barely speak, she pulled the truth from him that he had denied for days. He could not kill her."

The children's eyes were huge and intent on him, and none of them spoke. The elder adjusted his breather again; it felt sometimes as though even the extra oxygen was not enough.

"She believed in him-believed so strongly that he could not close his fingers to finish her. And when tears spilled from her eyes, welling from her fear and hurt and the pity she felt for his desperate confusion, he let her go.

"It was as though that salt water broke the hold of Tom's training and his life. He straightened up, feeling calm for the first time in weeks, and- for the first time ever-completely alone. It was a bitter feeling. Without his purpose, he had nothing-his failure to complete his mission was a betrayal of all his people, and their faces would be turned from him, their hands against him. But their goal no longer seemed so right, so sure, and until he could think things through, he could not work toward it."

He stopped, and after a moment a small boy piped up. "What happened? Did he stay with her?"

The old man laughed a little. "Not then. He knew she would be in greater danger if he stayed. But before he could go, Sloan asked him if he would be in danger too, and if he would fight that danger when it came. And he made a decision, and he told her he would. And then he left."

He raised his eyes to look over their heads, and saw a much younger man approaching from the dome beyond. "Here comes your teacher."

There was muted grumbling at this, but the children began to get up. "Will you tell us the rest of the story later?" the oldest girl asked.

"Tomorrow." He accepted her hand in rising from the dusty ground, and brushed rather futilely at the clinging redness. She nodded gravely and then skipped off to join her classmates. The elder shook his head at the energy of youth and made his slow way back toward the dome. His bones were aching and a chill had settled on him; he'd been sitting too long.

He was met halfway there by a woman not much older than the children's teacher; she had all the poise and confidence of adulthood, but he could easily remember when she was a gangly six-year-old, tearing around and getting into everything. Her dark hair was confined in a heavy braid and she swung a carryall by her side, but she slipped her arm through his as though she had nothing to do that day but walk with him. He appreciated it.

"Is the oxygen low today?" he asked, gesturing toward the breather that dangled, unused, from its strap around her neck.

She shrugged, blue eyes dancing. "Not much more than usual. I had to go up in the mountains for a while, that's all; Dr. Matt wanted some more lichen samples."

The old man nodded. "Did your mother send you after me?"

She laughed. "Come on, great-grandfather. Can't I just want to spend some time in your company?"

He chuckled and patted her arm where it rested on his. "Well, I'm glad to see you too."

The young woman hooked the carryall's strap over her shoulder. "In fact, I might come by tomorrow to hear the rest of the story. All my memories of home are a child's."

He snorted. "There's not so much of home in that one; it's more a history tale now."

"But it was the beginning," she reminded him softly, and he had to agree. For a moment he smelled the warm air and rich scents that he would never experience again, remembered a time when desperation and the threat of war pressed so hard that he'd wondered if they would ever survive. And then he pulled himself back to the present. He was alone now, but what he and his beloved had accomplished was greater than they had ever dreamed.

They headed into the dome, leaving the hard sky and the tiny sun behind. A thin wind kicked up more fine red dust.