Transfiguration

The light. That beautiful, terrible, all-consuming light. Ben wanted to dissolve into it, to flee away into its comfort, its control, its peace. He felt the connection to his body falter as his tethered spirit fought for release. No! He clamped down firmly, dragging himself back. He couldn't leave yet. He had promised. He forced himself into the body, even though it felt as if he wasn't quite connected, merely occupying the same space, hovering inside cold flesh.

Ben fought for control, forcing in a slow, tortured breath. That pristine light that had been held at bay for a moment while he struggled was pouring into him now. Before it had been like drowning. Now, it was more like a fire. Burning up from his core and down his limbs into his tingling hands. He felt his body start to shake uncontrollably and his breath stuttered in his chest. Distantly, a world away, someone called out. He couldn't hear the words over the thunder in his head, but he felt a hand on his arm. They were going to cut him off again, leave him stranded in the dark.

No! Not yet!

He didn't know if he managed to get the words out or not, but the hands went away. Relief flowed into him, and the light followed. His consciousness was dragged away, out into the infinite universe. He could touch everything, feel the brush of every living mind, manipulate the cells of existence, and wield the very physics of the galaxy to his will.

He sensed the minds of Chana and Shaarm at his sides. Not as formless swirls of emotion, like before, but fully-formed consciousnesses. He could feel their life force, blisteringly bright. Beyond them were the girls, twin stars in the cosmos of his senses, and Grandmother with them. Further off was Pakat, anxious, sorrowful. Nenka, and Porra, distant but no less present. Further still, another life, and another, and another. Ten, a thousand, a million lives, good and evil, friend and foe, light and dark, all interwoven seamlessly into the fabric of the universe. He could touch all of them. Somewhere, someone said 'Master!?'

It felt a little like dying, but there was no death, there was only the Force.

And the Force awoke.

"Come on, wake up. If they catch me too, we're going to be in a lot of trouble. Please, I'm not above begging, just this once, if that's what it takes to make you happy. Wake up!"

He blinks around at the metal room. Looks up, and is almost lost in crystal eyes of the brightest blue.

"That's it," the owner of the eyes says, encouragingly. "Now, quick, before they come back. I've bandaged your leg, but it needs proper treatment. Where else are you hurt? You're covered in blood."

Ben shakes his head to silence the ringing in his ears, but the man takes it as a response.

"Okay, that's good. Think you can get up?"

Get up? But he is chained….then he notices for the first time that his wrists and ankles are free. The cuffs lie smouldering on the floor.

"I'm sorry about this," the man says, tapping his fingers on a thin bracelet of metal around Ben's arm, glinting cold in the light. "But I don't dare try get it off until Yoda or someone has had a chance to look at you. You seem pretty spaced out...if that's a repressor, you could be in psychic shock or something."

The other man is touching him, holding Ben's arm, and his other hand is laid on Ben's shin. Ben pulls his arm free, and then focuses all his effort and pushes the hand off his leg.

"Don't touch me," Ben says, and is pleased that his voice sounds so calm.

"O-kay..." the other man sounds wary, but does as Ben asks. "But I think you're going to need some help to get up, looking at the state of you, and we have to move."

Ben tries to climb up to his feet. His damaged leg instantly gives out and he falls against the wall. The other man reaches for him again, but Ben shakes him off. The man sighs, but moves away to the door of the metal room, peering out.

"Okay. We're still good; no-one in sight. Is there any point in me asking you if you can walk?"

"Who are you?" Ben asks, still clutching the wall. His head thrums with pain.

"Wait, what?" asked the other man. "Did you just ask- Fierfek! What did they do to you?"

"I don't know," Ben says. He knew he should be panicking, filled with adrenaline, but he just feels dull and distant, as if it is all happening a long time ago, or very far away. "I don't know who they are and I don't know who you are."

"Kriffing hell!" the man curses again, and mutters almost to himself. "I should never have let you out of my sight. Look, I know you, okay? You're going to have to trust me, even if you've forgotten who I am for now. Besides, I'm the guy who just unchained you from a wall and is help you escape from the crazed torturers. How bad could I be?"

"Better the devil you know," mutters Ben, under his breath, but the other man hears, and snorts a laugh.

"Typical. You forget me, but somehow we get to keep your crappy sense of humour." He glances out to check the coast is still clear. "We'll fix this. But first we have to get out of here. Come on, old man. Follow me."

Against his limited and untested better judgement, Ben does.

"BEN!"

The shout was in stereo, as two voices called out to him at once; Ooouli with surprise and delight, and Pakat with surprise and alarm. Ben froze, and for a moment they held a perfect, silent tableaux. Ooouli, seated on the floor, pointing. Ben, half-way through standing, and with one arm outstretched. Pakat at the table, turned almost towards them, and behind him was the glass he had knocked off the table with his elbow as he rose. It hung beyond the edge, suspended in the air, gently spinning. It was a full three metres from Ben's fingertips.

For a moment, no-one moved as if held under a spell. Then Tiki shrieked a sudden laugh and clapped her hands with delight, and the spell broke. Ben started like he had been electrocuted and his arm jerked. The glass dropped like a stone, and struck the hard tile, shattering into a hundred small shards. No-one seemed to even notice the small destruction; their attention was fixed on Ben.

"You did it again!" Ooouli crowed. "I knew it was real!"

Tiki laughed again. There was the sound of footsteps and blur of movement over Pakat's shoulder. Alerted by the ominous combination of shouting and breaking glass, Chana burst into the room, taking in the scene in a glance.

"What happened?" Chana demanded.

"Ben did it again!" Ooouli announced, dancing around the room. "He made the glass fly!"

Ben shook his head but said nothing. His hands were clenched firmly at his sides, the only way he could resist the urge to stare at them.

What, in all the universe, was going on?

Chana and Shaarm had not really been able to agree what had happened the previous night when Ben had made them remove the bracelet. Shaarm's account had focused on Ben's medical condition. She recounted that he seemed to have fallen asleep at first, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Then his breathing had dropped, and he had suddenly started to twitch and shake. Afraid Ben was falling into another fit, Shaarm had wanted to replace the bracelet. Despite appearing unconscious, Ben had called out, telling her to wait. The shakes eventually subsided without going into a full seizure, and so she had agreed to his wishes, for the time being. Over the next few turns, Ben had then apparently gone through waves of awareness, ranging from near-catatonic unconsciousness to apparent hallucinations. At times, his breathing shallowed out so much that his oxygen levels dropped alarmingly below what they thought was acceptable. They managed to bring his saturation back up by fitting him with a rebreather mask. Shortly after, his core temperature had plummeted, but warming blankets had eventually brought it back. They had brought him back.

Chana had instead recounted Ben's delirium. The Pechnar had called out strange names and had spoken in other languages that they didn't know. While Shaarm had observed Ben's seizures, Chana had sensed a great presence, a power pressing down on the room. Where Shaarm had seen oxygen levels and scales of consciousness, Chana had seen golden light suffusing Ben's skin, and a force flow through his body. Both Kheelians said they felt that Ben was changed, down to the level of every cell. The man looked the same, spoke and walked the same, but was undeniably different.

Ben couldn't deny that. He felt changed. He felt...complete. Whole, for the first time that he could remember. It wasn't just to do with his injuries either, even though they were significantly improved over the day before. The constant pressure inside his head had disappeared, and with it had gone the perpetual headaches that had plagued him. He was yet to have another nosebleed. The muscle aches and weakness he had experienced yesterday were no more, and even the ache from his broken bones was lessened. In a strange way, Ben felt as if he could almost see the injuries inside his body now; dark fracture lines running across his ribs, and tight bruising inside his abdomen and swollen organs. A crack marred the right iliac wing of his pelvis. His survival truly had been quite astonishing.

But this change, whatever it was, went beyond the physical. Ben was strong, energized, in control. He no longer felt the rolling swell of fear, pain, anger, joy, gratefulness that had washed over him day by day since the crash. Ben had discovered that he could gather the emotions up and push them away from him. It let him feel calm and centred, regaining balance where before there had been none.

And now these...these powers had appeared.

Ben had known something else had happened from the moment he had woken up. Shaarm and Chana had each recounted their version of the night's events, but there was something off about it. They had been too casual. Nervous, almost. It wasn't until he sat up and looked about him that he started to put it all together. The curving walls of the room he slept in had always been decked with shelving, stacked with a clutter of tools and boxes, stores of food and materials. Now, the shelves were empty. Baskets and boxes were stacked neatly up against the wall, beside sacks and tools. At the door was a pile of swept-up broken pottery and cracked metal. The jars had disappeared entirely, besides a few shards of glass in the corner. It was as if a thunderstorm had torn through the room.

Shaarm had seen him staring at the damage. It hadn't been his fault, they assured him. Probably a freak weather event. A very localised earthquake that had caused everything to suddenly fly from the shelves the moment Ben had started to hallucinate. It could only be coincidence.

Ben had spent a few turns of the morning after his awakening dressing, washing and eating, and getting to grips with the renascent condition of his body. Without knowing why, he had chosen the garden as a place to sit while he worked out how he was feeling and what precisely had happened. On top of everything else, there was also the memory that had come back to him as he had slept. A dark cell, and a young man who cut his bonds and dressed his leg. But what did it all mean? Ben had closed his eyes, almost as if following some ancient teaching, and centred his mind, breathing out his stress, and emotion and anxiety. It took a long time, but slowly, slowly, the tensioned flowed away, and everything came back into focus.

His introspections had been suddenly halted by the compelling certainty that the girls were on their way back towards the house. Everything else had been forgotten, and he had quickly found his stick and went out into the front garden to meet them. The children had seen him by the path and had sprinted up to meet him, falling over themselves to throw their arms around him, and rub his hair and his re-growing beard (Tiki complained that it was 'prickly'). Grandmother and Pakat had followed up the path shortly after, and that too was a joyous reunion. It may only have been three days since he last had seen them, but the intensity of what he had experienced in that time made it feel far longer. Pakat had continued to apologise so profusely for his part in Ben's collapse that Ben had to physically put his hands over the Kheelian's mouth, and firmly assure him that he had probably saved Ben's life by it. He still didn't know exactly what the bracelet had been doing, but it had not been good.

Ben tried not to think about the smashed glass and empty shelves in the room where he had been sleeping, or the look on Shaarm's face.

Unfortunately, the reality that there really was something strange happening did not take long to reassert itself. Ben had been working to complete the repairs he had previously begun on some of the electrical items from the crashed ship. His hands had remembered how to do the work, even if his memory could not. The girls were lying stretched out on the floor below, drawing. The magnetic pliers he had needed to fix a crystal in place were on the far side of the table. Without thinking, Ben had held his hand out and suddenly, the tool he had wanted just dropped into it. Ben had stared at the pliers he held in astonishment. For a moment, he doubted his memory, thinking he must have forgotten going over to pick them up. And then he had seen Ooouli staring.

First, the broken items in the side room where he slept. And then flying tools. Those two instances he might put down to misperception or tiredness, or yes, even freak localised earthquakes. But now here he was, barely half a day after the incident with the pliers, watching Chana sweep up smashed shards from a glass he had somehow just levitated.

"I did not believe it," Pakat said faintly to Chana, before turning a bewildered look on Ben. "How...?"

Ben shook his head. "I don't know."

Pakat picked up Tiki and held her close, a defensive reflex not lost on Ben. In a shocked voice, the Kheelian asked;

"What are you?"

The small sting of hurt from Pakat's words was unexpected. Ben breathed the emotion out.

"I'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to say.

"Do it again!" cried Ooouli, still dancing with delight, oblivious to the adult's tension.

"Ooouli, I don't think..." Ben began, but Chana, surprisingly, interrupted.

"No, she is right. We have now learned that you can smash up glasses as well as a storeroom of pots and pans. I want to see what else you can do."

Ben glanced at him, but despite the apparent sharpness of his words, the tone was mild. Ben saw no condemnation in the Kheelian's face, only curiosity.

"I don't know how it works," Ben said, cautiously.

Chana grabbed a garishly-painted jug from the shelves behind him and placed it in the middle of the table, stepping back. Ben raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you don't want to try something less fragile?"

Pakat spoke up, at last, although he still looked rather disconcerted, and had not put Tiki down. "It was a gift from Shaarm's father. Everyone hates it."

"Well, if you're certain..."

How was he supposed to do this? Ben concentrated, staring at the jug. He willed it to move, tried to picture it lifting off the table, or falling. Feeling rather foolish, he held up his hand, and gestured towards the jug. It did not even wobble. After a few silent moments, he dropped his arm with a sigh.

"Maybe it's too heavy," Ooouli suggested. She scrambled to her school bag and took out a pencil. She laid it flat on her palm and held her hand low so that Ben could see it. "Try this."

Still nothing happened. Ben looked intently at the pencil, wondering what he was doing wrong. The last few times had been so automatic, instinctual, that he hadn't thought about what he was doing. Perhaps he was thinking too much? Instead of the pencil, his gaze drifted to Ooouli. He remembered feeling her and Tiki's spirits as bright as stars in the ether of the universe. He could still sense them now; Ooouli's presence, her life-force, perhaps, and Tiki's too; and Chana's, strangely alive and shimmering; and Pakat's, dimmer and intangible but no less present. He closed his eyes, following the sense of them, focusing in on the energy, the power, the force that now flowed through him like a river. He could feel Ooouli there before him, and in her hand, a cluster of organics and hydrocarbons. He focused his will on them and...

Ben opened his eyes just in time to see the pencil roll across Ooouli's hand. The girl closed her fingers over it at the last second and smiled, delightedly. Tiki seemed to feel she was being left out of the fun. She kicked gently at Pakat's knees until he put her down, upon which she shuffled over to her sister. Pakat followed, clearly curious despite his misgivings.

"So the vase seems to have been too heavy," Chana mused. "Even though you moved heavier items before when you were unconscious..."

"Are you sure you didn't have your hand tilted?" Pakat asked Ooouli, who answered firmly in the negative. "Otherwise that would compromise the results..."

"We should be writing this down." said Chana. He disappeared and came back a moment later with a datapad. Pakat took it out of his hands.

"I'll record," he said, firmly. "You come up with the test parameters. Although we should first see if we can replicate the same result."

Chana grinned. "Fair enough," he said. "Let us try the pencil again. Same as before, Ooouli."

Ben closed his eyes, but now he was starting to get a feel of what he was looking for. After a moment or two, the cheers of the others confirmed his success. He opened his eyes to see the girls dancing, and Pakat making several notes.

"Try again," said Ooouli, and held out her hand. Ben kept his eyes open this time, finding the shape of the object in his mind. He barely had time to fix on it before suddenly Ooouli turned her hand over, letting the pencil drop. Startled, Ben made a mental grab for it and…

The pencil hovered unmoving in the air. He had caught it! Ben froze, trying not to move, attempting to keep his breathing even and his mind clear. His outstretched hand trembled. The Kheelians leaned in, observing the floating pencil. Pakat crouched, and moved his long hand over and under the pencil, as if checking for wires or supports that might hold it up.

"Incredible," the Kheelian said, marvelling. He took the pencil out of the air, and looked over at Chana. "This is unprecedented."

Chana nodded. "Let's try the vase again." He grabbed it off the table, and held it out at shoulder height. "Ready?"

"Wait," Ben felt somewhat alarmed. "Chana...a pencil is one thing, but that vase is significantly larger. I couldn't move it before; I can't be sure I can catch it now.

"We told you," said Pakat, starting to smile, "No-one likes it anyway. It has almost suffered several ignominious ends. A sacrifice in the name of science is a far more noble cause."

Chana nodded. "Exactly," he said, and dropped the vase.

Ben flinched, but there was no crash. Instead, the vase hung a hands-breadth from the floor, spinning gently. Everyone breathed out a collective sigh. The vase wobbled, and Ben lowered his outstretched hand, tilting the object cautiously down until it touched the floor. Tiki clapped.

Pakat nodded, musing out loud as he typed rapidly. "So you can catch objects that are falling, but not levitate them. This magic seems to manifest itself more when you are taken by surprise."

"It is an instinct." Chana agreed.

"He can lift items, Papa" Ooouli said. "Some tools flew across the room into his hand this morning when he was working." Then, to Ben, she added; "I don't think you realised, so I didn't say anything."

This discovery caused the testing to begin to earnest, and the group decided to move outdoors into the yard at the front of the house to get more room to work in. Ben was reluctant to risk smashing up any more of the family's crockery, so Ooouli fetched a box of Tiki's toys and Pakat carried them outside, tipping them out onto the grass. As they tested Ben's abilities, Pakat took notes and Chana recorded the results on a small holovid recorder. They began with a toy speeder-bike; Ben lifting it above the ground, varying its height and speed. They discovered the magic worked whether Ben had his eyes open or closed, although he could move the toys faster if he could see them. Similarly, he didn't have to gesture with his hand, although he found it made concentrating on the object much easier and its movement less random.

After half a standard turn, he had successfully moved the speeder-bike, a selection of plastoid animals, a book, and Benben the doll, either lifting them, or catching them from falling. Next Chana wanted Ben to try moving the objects in different directions. They started with placing to toys out of Ben's reach and having him call them over, as Ben had apparently done with the tools earlier in the day. It felt to Ben as if he was using his will to summon the items to him, and it was by far the most difficult task he had tried so far. The book hit him squarely in the eye the first time he tried. Benben the doll rocked from side to side, span on the grass, and rolled over a few times before Ben was able to call the doll into his outstretched hand.

"Good. Now try pushing something away from you," Chana directed. "Here." Tiki's box had also contained a brightly-coloured ball, and the Kheelian placed it carefully in front of Ben.

Pushing things away seemed, at first, to be easier than calling them. Ben concentrated on the ball, taking a slow steadying breath and letting his mind clear, before tentatively sending a burst of force towards it. The ball shot easily off across the turf like it had been kicked. The two girls instantly followed in hot pursuit, yelling.

Controlling the direction of the ball's movement, and the size of the push he needed to move it, involved a much greater level of concentration. After a few tries, Ben found he was either barely moving the sphere, or losing control of the push, and sending it flying across the lawn. The girls clearly much preferred this second option, and chased the ball, shrieking wildly. Ben waited until Tiki was just about to catch it, and then gave the ball a small nudge. It spun erratically off-course and she ran after it, shouting "No, Ben! Cheating!"

Chana's laugh proved to be infectious, and it wasn't long until the rigours of their scientific experimentation were abandoned. The Kheelians stood up on their back legs, throwing the ball to each other, while Ben would use his powers to push it in an unpredictable direction, or catch it out of someone's hands. The girls raced their fathers to catch it, yelling, laughing, and before too long, gloriously dirty.

The game lasted long into the evening, and only came to a halt when Ben paused mid-catch, somehow sensing the return of Grandmother and Shaarm. The pair were walking up the road from the village, but they were beyond the slope of the hill, out of sight in the fading dusk. A few moments after Ben was aware of them, the pair came into sight, and Ooouli and Chana shouted out a greeting. The Kheelian women wandered into the garden to be greeted with an armful of laughing children. Chana grabbed Shaarm and swung her around. She gasped in mock-surprise, pushing him off and dropping onto all fours, just in time for Pakat to pile into both of them.

"What has been going on here then?" Grandmother asked, laughing, as Shaarm spluttered indignantly on the floor. Ben smiled at their antics; he had so often only seen the serious side of these beings, he forgot that how joyful they could be. Shaarm had tackled Pakat back to the floor and was firmly sitting on him. Tiki wrapped her long arms around Ben's middle, and he rubbed the fur of her arms, relaxing into the childish embrace. She had the strength to re-break all his ribs if she had wanted, but he had not even the slightest trace of fear.

"What has taken possession of you lot!" Shaarm was busy scolding, but with a twinkle in her eyes. "I leave you alone for one day, and just look. You are all of you a disgrace. Dirt everywhere."

"We were winning at ball!" Ooouli cried out, leaping onto the pile of adults. Ben heard Chana, at the bottom of the pile, grunt as her elbow met something soft. "Me and Tiki! We were beating Dada and Papa, and Ben too. Even though Ben was cheating. He can move things with his mind now."

"What?" Shaarm sat up, suddenly.

"We were honestly being very careful, and very scientific," Pakat tried to reassure her. "I have notes to prove it."

"Scientific." Chana echoed, nodding.

"Oh were you." Shaarm rose nimbly to her four feet. She glanced swiftly at Ben but seemed reassured. "Well, unless he has gained the ability to shift mud with his mind, it's straight to the cleansing room with all of you, before you go anywhere near the kitchen." Ooouli tried to protest, but Shaarm rubbed her head, affectionately. "You can tell me all about it after you are clean. So Ben has a few new surprises does he? Well, Grandmother and I have one for him too. I will tell you later. Go!"

Grandmother prepared dinner while the ball-game players cycled through the washroom. Ben's new Pechnar clothes were pretty muddy, so he found the old ones that been adapted for him and put them back on for now while the new ones were in for cleaning. Ooouli inspected him critically when he came back into the main room, combing his cleaned hair with his fingers.

"Mama, is Ben still in disguise? I think his fur colour is coming back."

She was right. He had noticed his reflection earlier; flame-coloured roots were lighting along his scalp. He had already taken the opportunity to shave off the newly-grown stubble of his former beard. It had been itching like crazy. Fortunately his broken fingers were pretty much healed so he didn't need to get help with that this time round.

Tiki arrived freshly washed shortly after, clutching a handful of beads. She plonked herself down in front of Ben, thrusting the beads and trinkets at him.

"She wants you to do her fur," Ooouli tugged on the back of Ben's hair. "You do hers and I'll do yours!"

They fetched the leftover dye mix that Pakat had made and Ooouli carefully set about re-dying Ben's hair, painting the nut-brown mixture into the roots to concealing the glimmers of copper red that shimmered there. In the meantime, Ben straitened narrow sections of Tiki's mane fur, twisting brightly coloured glass and wood beads into the strands. Ooouli offered advice whenever he seemed to be stuck on what to do next. Some the trinkets refused to stay in place, and he started plaiting narrow sections of hair to hold them still. His fingers moved automatically, and he suddenly knew he had done this before. That child's hair had been straw-like, coarsened and bleached blonde by the sun, but he had wrestled it into a narrow stubby braid that hung behind one ear. Over the years, that hair had softened to golden waves, and the braid grew and grew. Another time there had been long hair; fine, glossy bronze fading to slate grey. He remembered that the man with the long hair had hurt his hands once, and Ben had braided the man's hair out of his face for him; it had hung down his back in a long, neat queue for weeks. Ooouli's voice over his shoulder jolted him out of his reminiscence.

"Ooh, I like those! Teach me how to do that!" She was pointing at the array of plaits which now decorated the younger girl's mane. The Kheelians' three-fingered hands made the task of plaiting somewhat difficult, but the girls were patient, and by the time Shaarm called them over to the table for dinner, they had both managed at least one neatish braid in the other's mane. Ben focussed on teaching, and not on the memories he had just experienced. They were just stray fragments of memory, from who knew how long ago. He felt no real emotion from the reminiscence, only a slight clinging regret that he did not know more. The people he had dreamed of, the older man and the blonde boy. There was no real connection there, if there ever had been. He couldn't tell if they were important to him or not. Now they were just echoes.

Dinner comprised a type of stringy black noodles that Shaarm had brought back from the town. They seemed to be considered a special treat. Unfortunately, the food smelled something like melting plastoid to Ben, and he declined his portion with an apologetic smile. Fortunately Shaarm had already considered his mercurial taste buds, and instead handed him a plate of fruit slices mixed with small white spongey cubes that tasted of flour. It was a very welcome change after days of orange dumplings. While they ate, Pakat and Chana caught Shaarm and Grandmother up on the day's events.

"It really is real, Mama," Ooouli assured Shaarm. "Ben really can do it. Like a kirnaya."

"What is a kirnaya?" Ben asked, the word being one outside his vocabulary.

"A being with supernatural powers, from the children's picture books," Shaarm answered, somewhat distractedly. "They do not exist. Forgive me, Ben, but I just do not...I believe you, of course, but..." She shook her head, frustrated. "This is beyond anything in my experience," she confessed.

"Show her!" Ooouli said, like it was the simplest thing in the world, and Ben supposed it was. He reached out a hand towards Tiki, who was sitting at the other end of the table, and focussed. The little fabric doll, Benben, lifted out of the girl's hands and drifted across the table. Shaarm gasped, and Tiki laughed.

Ben spread his fingers slightly, concentrating, and moved his hand. Benben the doll flopped up onto its stuffed legs and wobbled from one to the other, dancing across the table. Pakat and Chana whooped and applauded. Grandmother nodded to herself, and Shaarm just continued to stare at the doll. After a moment, her gaze shifted to Ben, and her eyes widened slightly.

"Ben," she said softly, and brought a hand up to gesture at her own face. Ben felt a tickle on his upper lip and dabbed at it with his hand. His fingers came away coated with blood. Kriff.

The doll dropped onto the table. Grandmother handed Ben a wadded-up napkin, and he cupped his hand around his nose as discretely as he could. He had been using his new skills intensively all day; hopefully this was just a result of working his still-healing psyche too hard. Shaarm seemed to gather herself together.

"He can lift things, and move them, as you saw," Chana was saying. "Push objects away and catch them when they are falling. His reactions are fast."

"I can sense new things as well," Ben admitted. "My hearing and sight seem to be more acute than before. I can...well, feel things just before they happen. I can tell who is in the house, even if you are in a different room. Earlier I knew when the two of you were returning from the village before you came around the bend in the road.

"You have healed more quickly too," added Pakat, thoughtfully. "In the last few days you have been much healthier."

Shaarm still hadn't said anything but she was giving Ben a strange look, as if something unsettling had just occurred to her.

"What is it?" Ben asked.

"It's nothing," she said, with a forced smile, although Ben could sense she was still troubled. "You really are full of secrets. Well, I did say we had a surprise for you too..."

Grandmother produced a folded plastoid wallet from a pocket of her robe, and handed it to Ben. He took it, curious. Inside was a small flimsiplast card, about the size of his palm, with a datachip embedded in it. Text in Kheelian characters was embossed on the front.

"Ben Waken," he read. "Citizen, Pechnar. Shaarm Residence, Thet, Tzsaaf District."

"It is an MedIdent card," Grandmother explained. "It means you will exist on the medical database and can access any medical treatment you require from now on, in a proper Med Unit. Invaluable, given how often you seem to need it..." She offered him a crooked smile.

Ben was completely taken aback. "How did you get it?" he asked, turning the card over in his hands.

"A combination of Grandmother's political influence and the resources I have at the surgery." Shaarm explained. "Grandmother sourced the chip with your fake data on it from someone who owed her a favour, and I can authorise the reissue of lost MedIdent cards. It is not as good as a full Ident card I am afraid, but I think it will do. In the majority of places, a MedIdent is difficult enough to fake that most people will accept them as proof of ID. If you wanted to buy travel tickets for instance, or use the public data services or the university, no-one will bother to check if you claim that you have lost your full Ident. As long as you have an address and MedIdent together, it should be enough for you to get to wherever you want to go, or do whatever you want to do."

Ben turned the card over again. He had been granted a gift, and he wasn't sure the Kheelians really appreciated quite how great a gift it was. More than just access to the medical facilities, they had given him a key to unlock life on this planet. If Shaarm was right, he could get transport, resources, and accommodation with this card. Maybe even a job, if he could be persuasive enough. He could survive here on his own, without the need to rely on the charity and compassion of those like Shaarm and her family. He could belong. Because even more than all these practical considerations, they had given him an identity. He had an existence. A name. He was real again.

He swallowed, and then said; "Ben Waken?"

"Yes, I am sorry." Shaarm said, with a laugh. "I did not have time to call home and ask you what name you wanted. I know Pechnar in this area usually have two or three names, and it was the first that came to mind."

"Not the name I would have chosen!" Grandmother said, clearly a conversation they had already gone through. "Naming you after an historical figure? It sounds like the best way of saying 'this name is fake' that I can think of."

"Well, I like it," Ben defended his new name. "It sounds distinguished."

"It sounds daft," snorted Grandmother, though there was a twinkle in her eye.

"Besides," Pakat chimed in. "Not everyone will immediately think of Benibor Waken. And it is a proper name in its own right. Wasn't there a research assistant in your department at university called Waken?"

"That was Wakin," Shaarm corrected. "But I think it will do. It sounds properly Pechnar anyway. And it suits you."

Ben smiled. "Thank you, very much. I truly mean that. Thank you. I know this was not easy to get hold of, and it means a great deal to me. I will repay you."

Grandmother huffed in faked irritation at his words, and left the table, gathering the children off to bed as she went. Ben caught her in a hug as she went past. "Thank you." He said again, quietly into her fur. The Kheelian rubbed his hair gently, and with affection, and then went out. The girls bid them all a sleepy goodnight, and the married trio and Ben were left alone.

For the first time, they talked about the future.

"What will you do?" Shaarm had asked. "Although, before you answer, I should say that as far as we are concerned, you are part of this family now. We have talked about it, and we are all agreed that you are welcome to live here with us, for as long as you wish. Particularly after the next Growing season, when Grandmother will have left. Then there will be more space."

"Left? Why, where is she going?" Ben asked, surprised.

"To live with her new family, of course," Pakat answered, as if this was obvious. "She has been with us for almost two years, and in a few months she will go to be hosted with her new family at the Tora residence, across the valley."

"Her new family?" Ben was thoroughly confused. "I feel I may have missed something here. Is she not part of your family"

ventually the Kheelians realised his misunderstanding. Grandmother, it turned out, was not actually a blood-relation to Shaarm's family at all. The name Grandmother itself was something of a mistranslation on Ben's part; she was more accurately the Great Mother, and was an elected leader for the district. In order to share the burden of leadership, and for the leaders to properly assess the needs of the populous, it was the custom for a different family to host the Great Mother or Father in their home for periods of two or three years. When he had confessed that he had thought Grandmother to be Shaarm's mother, the Kheelians were most amused. Although, they pointed out, they did not think Grandmother would be, as she was actually younger even than Pakat. Ben rubbed his chin, shaking his head in surprise. He had been with the family for almost fourteen days, and yet there was still so much to learn about their culture.

"So, will you stay?" Chana said, drawing them back to the point of the conversation. "We want you to, but of course it is up to you."

Ben considered, although really he had made his decision already. "I do want to stay, of course. Truly, I would like nothing more. But there are questions which I must find the answers to."

"Like how the ship crashed," Chana guessed. "How you lost your memories..."

"Yes," Ben agreed. "And these powers that I have. I need to learn where they come from, and if they are dangerous. I want to know about the people that I see in my dreams, and what they mean. Also...I feel a compelling sense of something uncompleted. As if I had responsibilities somewhere which are now being unfilled. It is somewhat frustrating, but if I have abandoned some duty through losing my memories, even unintentionally...I cannot truly feel at home here until I know that is not the case."

The Kheelians nodded, understanding.

"You are not intending to go soon, though?" Pakat asked. "And I hope you will not stay away long."

"No, not soon." Ben said. "Perhaps next season, like you said. Although there are other issues of concern which may accelerate the timetable. Most important to me is this possible pursuit we talked about before...although no-one has been seen yet, I am not yet sure that my staying here is not going to put you all in danger. I have kept as low a profile in the village as I can so far. But I can't stay inside the house forever. If I am going to stay here, I intend to pull my weight, and that means work of some kind..."

Ben trailed off, taking in the expression on Pakat's face. It had suddenly taken on a tight, anxious look, edged with guilt.

"What is it?"

"I am sorry, I should have told you before," the Kheelian said. "But with everything that happened, it slipped my mind… You recall the day that we removed your suppressing bracelet?"

Ben nodded, uncertain where this was going.

"Well, Porra called me up to the moor; some of our survey equipment had been smashed up by the narms, and...anyway, we went up to the site of the wreck."

"The narms had been there." Ben guessed.

"Yes, they had climbed all over it, but they weren't the only ones," Pakat explained. "Ben – Pechnar had been there."

"What?"

"At least three different footprints," Pakat continued. "They turned over everything. The whole site was taken apart. I am sorry, I should have told you before."

Ben frowned, shaking his head. "Oh, this is not good."

"We don't know what they were doing up there, or how they found the ship," Chana took over the tale. "But it seems fairly clear that they were looking for you. And they will have seen that you were not killed in the crash."

"The narms had trampled mud over everything," Pakat added. "But as far as we could tell from the prints, it looked like the Pechnar were there only a day or two after us."

"I walked around the site," Ben remembered. "And after Nenka found the lightsaber, I walked for a while. If they were looking for signs of another human, they would have seen my footprints."

The Kheelians nodded; clearly they had already considered this.

Shaarm leaned forward. "If they were able to follow your prints, even as far as where Chana picked you up and carried you, they would have seen that you were travelling towards the eastern edge of the moor. And that means you must have been aiming for one of the nearby villages – there is nothing else out here."

Another unpleasant turn of events. Ben folded his arms with a sigh. Fear, guilt and worry all tried to clamour equally for his attention. He ruthlessly pushed the emotions from him, and drew on his calm centre.

"Well," he said, slowly, trying to think. "It's not ideal. But we knew someone was likely to be looking for me, and that they would probably find me sooner or later. I suppose that you haven't changed you minds about wanting me to leave? Even if it could bring more people here?"

The Kheelians all shook their heads, faces fixed with determination.

"Like you said," Shaarm spoke for the group. "We knew already that someone might come looking for you. Even if you left tonight, this second, anyone determined enough to find you is still going to search every house and farm in the valley. Besides, we have changed your appearance, and Nenka has been telling everyone in the village that you left for the City last week. If anyone comes, we can keep you hidden better here than out there on your own."

Ben nodded. "Very well," he agreed, eventually. "I don't like it, but I suppose my staying here despite probable discovery certainly won't be what they'll be expecting!"

"By the way," Pakat asked, his nose wrinkled, "What is a human?"

"Oh!" Ben realised for the first time he had even used the word. "Well, I am, I suppose. I did not remember that I knew that."

"A human? What a strange name." Shaarm shrugged. "I suppose knowing that word might prove to be useful when you get to the City. Still...I like Pechnar better."

"Me too," said Ben, honestly. He turned the flimsiplast of his new MedIdent card over in his hands a few more times, and then tucked it safely into his pocket, where it sat alongside the metal bracelet. Artefacts of his old life and his new life, side by side.

By now it was very late, and the group was too tired to decide on anything more. They agreed, on Ben's insistence, that before Shaarm and Pakat went off to work in the morning that they would hold a council of war. They would formulate a proper plan of action for what they should do if, or more likely when, the other 'humans' came to the house looking for Ben. They all hoped that feigning ignorance and disinterest would do the trick, but Chana said he had a few ideas of places Ben could hide if they were required to prove his absence.

Ben soon went to sleep, tired out from using his powers almost constantly throughout the day. Despite the new hints of encroaching danger, he felt more hopeful about his future than he ever had before. He had an identity, and a home. He knew what he was – a human. He had strange new powers, but he had also learned that they could be controlled. More than this, Ben had been shown again that he had friends here. The Kheelians would stick by him, help him, hide him. He was not alone. They would draw up a plan tomorrow to keep him hidden from the people hunting him, without drawing any danger on themselves. With their help, he felt like he was going to make it.

But trouble, of course, never abides by anyone's schedule. And when the farmstead was attacked later that very same night, the danger came from a source that none of them had anticipated.

Thank you everyone for your comments and reviews! To be continued next week, as always.