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I sit by Ariel's pallet, listening to her soft breathing and trying to decipher my tangled thoughts. Whenever I look back at the time from her conception to the return to Jaridia, it is hard to sort out what emotions are mine and what was simply made to appear to be mine. It fooled me, and either it deceived Liam or his heritage and discomfort with being the only hybrid on the block made him too ready to accept my supposed choice. It's hard to blame him for not catching on to the truth. There were so many months when my altered feelings led me down the primrose path the Jaridians planted for me to follow. I have to go back to my memories before Sandoval sent me to Jaridia to remind myself of just who I am, what I am willing to do and believe. I always end up wishing to renounce my forced choices that much more.
From their perspective, the Jaridians think they are going me a favor by keeping me happy and not having to resort to violence to achieve their ends. From my vantage point, however, those months when their manipulation controlled me are even more disgusting than what Sandoval did to me. I guess since Humans have made no big fuss about C.V.I.'s the Jaridians think we are accepting of such control. They took my implant out and destroyed it rather quickly, a C.V.I. being a Taelon device, but they were unwilling to allow me to deal with them on anything but their terms. They are very like the Taelons in that regard, but I suspect the Jaridians would not react well to being told that.
I wish they could understand how frightening and sickening the realization is that there were months when I did not control me. They don't ask, they never have. I'm too tired to explain it to them and too fearful they might discover that their control has slipped. I suspect they would take it about as well as Da'an took Sandoval's C.V.I. breakdown.
Ariel stirs in her sleep. She looked very human as an infant, but her Jaridian heritage is showing more each day. Even though I witnessed Liam's birth and rapid growth, Ariel's development is still astounding to me. Beyond that detached amazement, I don't know what to think of this child who was conceived and born while my emotions were sculpted by others.
Still, I gave birth to her and that should count for something. I suppose I ought to love her. Or hate her. Instead there is nothing but numbness where there should be emotion. When they leave me alone I sit for hours trying to determine what she is to me, but all I can do is cry in frustration at my complete inability to feel anything either positive or negative for my daughter. Vor'jek thinks I'm distraught because she isn't the savior the Jaridian High Command was hoping for. I don't bother to correct him.
Sometimes I think my feelings are a result of my surroundings. Jaridian architecture is too severe for Human psychological comfort, the walls are clunky and metallic and picture windows are scorned. Vor'jek had a window installed in our quarters to alleviate my growing claustrophobia, a triangle shaped incision in the walls that is strangely comforting. Through the window the stars are visible and even if I cannot recognize any constellations the sight still brings me closer to home. It may seem crazy, but I'd give anything to hear crickets. The Jaridian night is too still for my taste, but there is nothing that can be done about that thanks to Sandoval. His alterations to my biology seem permanent, yet I cling to the hope that maybe they will need me to return to Earth and can reverse what was done to me. I nurture that hope every chance I can in the form of subtle hints whenever the topic of Jaridian/Human relations is raised. Nothing has come of it so far, but I have to tread delicately.
It is not much to cling to, but even hope needs a foundation of some sort.