Asylum
Copyright© 2026 by Tedbiker
Chapter 8
Hector Finch:
I really thought things were settling out. Then I got a call from James Abercrombie.
“Your Majesty,” he began.
“James...” I chided him gently. “We’re not in public.”
“No,” he replied, “but I have a problem.”
“Shoot,” I sighed.
“Among the arrivals today is a woman with a Down’s Syndrome son.”
“And?”
“I think you should know that we’ll be accepting an immigrant who may not be able to function as an individual. I definitely wanted to make sure you were in the loop. Would you be willing to meet them?”
“Of course,” I responded. “Give me a few moments for research, but I don’t see how we can exclude them anyway.”
I hung up and immediately looked up ‘Down’s Syndrome’. I thought I knew what it was about. In fact, I thought the syndrome had been mostly eliminated through pre-natal scans and studies, which says something about my lack of concern about human rights in the past. Okay, then. ‘A genetic condition caused by an extra chromosome 21 at conception. Mild to moderate cognitive impairment and an increased susceptibility to various health conditions’. There was more, but I won’t repeat it all here. I walked over to Headquarters and into an interview room where I found a female Marine I recognised and smiled at, and a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman, neatly dressed, with greying brunette hair. With her was teenaged boy. They stood, the woman first, when I entered, the woman was looking anxious, the boy just unsure, but he gave me a tentative smile.
“Your Majesty,” the woman said. “I’m Yvonne, and this is Bernie.”
I offered my hand with a smile. She took it and squeezed gently. “Let’s ignore protocol,” I said, “I’m Hector Finch. For my sins I’ve ended up as the Head of State here on Andromeda, but in non-official settings I prefer to be ‘Hex’. Suppose you tell me, Yvonne, what brings the two of you to Andromeda? Oh, and please, be seated. Let’s not stand on ceremony.” I couldn’t resist a slight smile at my weak pun.
She responded with a slightly more definite smile. “I heard that Andromeda was accepting of unconventional relationships,” she said, “meaning anything other than heterosexual, legally bonded, single couples, and more recently, actual alien species. I was hoping that you would be accepting of people like Bernie. I made the choice, when I was pregnant, that I would not consider a termination if tests showed a possibility of foetal abnormality, despite being older, forty-one at the time.”
I nodded, then looked at Bernie. “Young man, what are you interested in?”
His eyes lit up. “Space! Computers!” His voice was low and slightly blurred, but perfectly understandable.
“Well,” I said thoughtfully. “Yvonne, how independent is Bernie?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Ask him.”
I nodded. “I stand corrected! Okay. Bernie, is there anything you need someone to help you with, day to day? Dressing, food preparation? Anything?”
“No! I choose my own clothes and dress myself. I cook simple stuff. I help Mum.”
“Very good.” I raised my voice, slightly, “Andromeda, please assign an avatar to support Yvonne and Bernie, and suitable quarters.” I turned back to Yvonne, “Andromeda provides colonists with a helper to guide and support them. That is a solid projection...” As I was speaking, a default avatar appeared in the room. “Everyone has one initially. You can ask Andromeda to customise her avatar in appearance, size, gender, language. If necessary, you can have one each. That’s up to you. Once you’re settled and know your way round, you may feel you don’t need it any more, but most of us like to keep ours. Call it Andromeda until you decide on a name and a gender. Go with it, and settle in to your new quarters. Welcome to Andromeda.” I stood, and first Yvonne, then her son, followed suit. “Oh,” I added, before leaving, “we have good educational facilities. Sleep teaching and one on one tutoring to access the information. Andromeda will direct you to an appropriate teacher, which you can access in your quarters or in school. The school is mainly younger children if that makes a difference.”
“Hex,” her voice stopped me as I was about to leave, “thank you for not dismissing us immediately, and finding space for us.”
I reached for the door handle. “I believe this is what this colony is about,” I said. “The buzz-words used to be ‘Diversity, inclusion, equality’, I understand. The only criteria we have is the ability to contribute to our society. And we are willing to seek ways for people to find that. I’ll discuss with Andromeda and our Naval officers to see if there’s any way Bernie could get into space.”
The boy was actually beaming. His mother had a tear trickling down her face. I left.
On my way home, I chewed over the entire encounter. On arrival, I spoke to my wives, and as a result Andromeda extended an invitation on our behalf to Yvonne and Bernie to join us for dinner a couple of weeks’ after their arrival. But that was later. I went to find Scott Ross, or his wife. I explained what was happening, and asked if he thought there was any way Bernie could have a job on board a ship.
“I’d have to meet him,” he prevaricated, but continued, “I’m sure we could occupy him. Whether he could make a genuine contribution to the crew, I don’t know. Some of the mathematics are ... quite advanced.”
“What about a gunner position? He could work through sims, couldn’t he? Scott, I don’t want this to be some ‘make work’ thing. For his sake, it needs to be a real job of some description.”
He thought about that. “Gunner ... yes, maybe. As you say, he can do sims. What do you think? Presumably you think he has potential.”
“Yes, I do.” I replied thoughtfully. “He seems quite capable. It might be worth giving him drills with computers, too. I suspect he could manage basic tech except the higher maths.”
“We’ll give him a trial. Perhaps ease him in slowly.” Scott sighed. “I understand what you’re saying, but...”
“Discuss it with Andromeda, Scott. If she hasn’t got the information on Down’s, well, I can talk to her, but she ought to have it in her memory.”
Anya Finch:
Hex ... my husband ... he’s not a pushover by any means. Try to force him and he’ll become the immovable force to resist. But he’s like that Terran sweet, hard on the outside and soft inside. It’s actually just one reason I love him. I was unsurprised at his decision about the boy. As to the mother, I was sure he saw ‘mother’ not ‘potential partner’. I was not threatened, and anyway I am not a jealous type.
Yvonne was perhaps twenty years older than me. Matronly, grey haired, serene. She arrived at the appropriate time, accompanied by Bernie, who had somehow procured a small bunch of flowers, which he presented to me with a bow. His mother smiled proudly.
“Welcome to our home, Yvonne, Bernie. Do come in.”
Our whole family was present including the children. Of course the newest addition, Bonnie, was too small to pay attention, but she was duly cooed over by Yvonne. Bernie stared at her for a few moments. “She is bootiful baby,” he announced.
The other kids, Katya, Will, Janet, Ivan, and Calista, were all mobile and happy to greet visitors. Oddly, to my mind, it was Calista who homed in on Bernie and held up her arms in a silent request to be picked up. He glanced at me, and when I nodded, he stooped and lifted her, smiling. She wrapped her arms tightly round his neck – I knew only too well how tight that could be – and he made dramatic choking noises. Calista giggled and loosened her grip.
I led the way into our dining room, where we had to move Calista’s high chair in order to place it next to Bernie. That required placing Romy on the other side of her.
The menu had five children in mind, so it was relatively simple. We collared Katya to cook for us so we could be sociable. Since the deer had multiplied, it was necessary to cull them. We’d considered – and rejected – the idea of having big cats keep the numbers down. The cats were miles away on the other side of a mountain range with their own stock of prey. Anyway, the first time we needed to reduce the numbers every colonist had a share of the first venison. We adults had steaks, the kids’ were minced, but the sauces and vegetables were the same. Calista was just beginning to feed herself and normally was determinedly independent about it. That night, though, she held out the spoon to Bernie, who was required to feed himself and her.
I, and the rest of the family, were watching. Not exactly open mouthed, but definitely surprised. Then Hex spoke up.
“How’re you settling in, Yvonne?”