Those with whom I've spoken at length about the topic might be able to remember that I have two canons for Astrid; one establishes her character in Gaia lore in a way that wouldn't disrupt any of the actual canon events, what I consider her canon. Then there's the one I have written most of my Gaia fanfic on, where her relationship with Gino is established from 2006 on. I call this "non-canon," stories that would not be acknowledged as taking place in Gaia canon at large, though events do run parallel.
This story in particular I do consider canon, but I couldn't help one little throwaway line to establish its place as "non-canon." Just because, in the event that Astrid remains "non-canon" herself, I still want her story to be consistent and cohesive.
So, disclaimer out of the way, enjoy yet another unnamed short story.
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This story in particular I do consider canon, but I couldn't help one little throwaway line to establish its place as "non-canon." Just because, in the event that Astrid remains "non-canon" herself, I still want her story to be consistent and cohesive.
So, disclaimer out of the way, enjoy yet another unnamed short story.
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“Hello?”
You never expected company - save for a certain someone from a certain notable household who stopped by on Christmas night you’d never gotten a random knock on the door. That had been on purpose, or so you figured when Thirteen first brought you home. He was a man who liked his privacy. Not to mention the fact that the sun was going down at this point; who thought wandering around the sticks of the island at sundown on a cold December night was a good idea? You had no idea what to expect. So, of course, you peeked out the view hole - you were curious, but you weren't stupid.
At the lack of a human shadow you opened the door only to come face to face with a flying saucer - a small one, you wouldn't guess any more than two-by-four, not accounting for square footage nor the opaque green dome at the top. Though, from what you knew about flying saucers, the dome was proportionally larger than normal. The saucer hovered for a minute before blinding you with a quick light, starting at the top of your head and scanning down and up again. After the light went out a robotic voice echoed into the night.
“Astrid Nacht, case number 36302. Can you confirm?”
Oh. Right. You had been expecting this. You bid the saucer to wait and ran over to your coffee table, coming back with the letter you’d had for a week now.
“36302-476.”
“Confirmed. Thank you Astrid Nacht.” It announced. “Step forward.”
A little nervously you obeyed, tossing the letter on a nearby table and stepping out a few feet from your door, making sure to leave it open. Just in case. The saucer rose to float above your head and whirred a little bit before washing you in a much softer green light. No, you hadn’t been completely aware of the process before that night, but you didn't figure it would be the most theatrical event. It kind of surprised you that it would mimic a classic abduction.
This time, though, instead of you going up, something else came down; you looked up only to see a small grey bundle floating down towards you. You reached out to catch it, the light blinking out again once it was safely in your arms. The saucer beeped, returning to your eye level.
“The official council of the planet Zurg would like to congratulate you on your out-of-this-world bundle of joy!”
You looked down at the bundle in your arms and there he was; a little bulbous green baby, sleeping soundly and wrapped in his space blanket. In awe of the creature in your arms you could only chirp out a quiet ‘thank you.’
“What would you like to name him?”
You looked up, snapping out of your momentary daze. “I'm sorry?”
“Naming baby I’m Sorry. Is this correct?”
You had seen this movie far too many times to find this even a little bit funny.
“No.”
“What would you like to name him?”
Now you had to watch your tongue. Before you so much as opened your mouth you looked down at the baby again. You had a couple of ideas but you hesitated - they were all human names, and you didn't know for sure if that would ostracize him in the future. You had to be careful. “What can you recommend?”
“Would you like to request a disc of baby names?”
“Yes, please.”
“Baby name disc requested.” It said. “Would you like to request parental leave?”
“No, thank you.”
“Request refused.” The saucer whirred quietly, processing your answers before continuing. “A craft will return with Complimentary Baby Box and requested disc of baby names in twenty-four Gaian hours. Until then, feel free to bond with your bundle of joy, and feed him cow’s milk until the designated formula arrives. Contact the coordinates on the adoption application if you have any questions. Farewell.”
With that, the saucer flew up and away, escaping back into the stars from whence it came, leaving you at your front door holding a baby. No, no this wasn't just any baby; this was your son. Your new baby Zurg son. You couldn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, or the daunting sense of doom you suddenly felt. In the pursuit of scientific discovery you had adopted a child.
You had adopted a child.
You were fourteen years old, an orphan, biologically immature.
And you ADOPTED a CHILD.
“I've made a huge mistake.”
At feeling the little one stir you turned heel and walked back into your house, shutting the door and the cold out behind you. At the click of the door the baby finally opened his eyes - big and black and shiny, with no pupils to speak of. Yet, somehow, you could tell he was looking directly at you.
You couldn't help but smile. Mistake or not, the little guy was adorable.
“Hello, you.”
The baby let out a quiet squeal, wiggling in his blanket until he could get one green arm free. Once he had a hand out he reached up to you. You were floored - did he already feel a connection to you? Was he reaching out to meet you? Maybe the adoption agency had shown him pictures of you. But if not, what an amazing development! He somehow already knew you were his mother!
Or maybe he was just reaching up to pull on your hair. That was more in line with what you expected anyway.
Once you very carefully wrestled yourself free from his grip you sat the baby down on your couch, sitting down opposite him as he cautiously began gnawing on his fingers. You might have been worried if he had been old enough to actually have any teeth. You watched him, finally getting used to your unsettled stomach. You had adopted a child. This was your baby son. You had everything you needed; it wasn't like you forgot he was coming. You had some specialty milk in the fridge straight from his home planet, his nursery was all set up, and everything that could be child-proofed was. But now he was sitting in front of you and it was all suddenly so real. You weren't sure you were ready.
He looked up at you again, his fingers still hanging from his mouth, and you put your chin in your hand.
“What's your name, little guy?”
He garbled around his fingers. Not that he would have been any easier to understand without them in his mouth.
“Do you like it here?”
He didn't answer, but he was courteous enough to make a show of looking around the room for you. Given that he didn't immediately start sobbing, you figured he approved. But God, what would you do if he did?
“What's the return policy on you?”
The baby fell back against the pillow behind him, taking advantage of his new angle to wiggle the rest of the way out of the blanket. As the blanket fell away and he started flailing his arms and kicking his legs, you noticed what you considered an unacceptable oversight.
“They didn't give you a diaper.”
Thankful that the little misstep didn't end up as badly as it could have, you scooped the baby up and made your way upstairs, leaving the blanket on your couch. But, looking in the nursery at the changing table you had set up, you realized you had never gotten a cushion for it. And like hell you were going to lay a baby down on a cold, wood countertop without something soft to cushion it. So you put the little guy down in his crib, telling him that you just had to run downstairs for a second. You’d be right back.
You were at the top of the stairs when you heard his first wail, and you damn near tore the carpet turning around to bolt back into the nursery. The baby was fine, having rolled to the side of the crib, and was watching and giggling at you. Huh. Maybe he saw a bug or something. You made a note to take a look around when you got back. This time he screamed as soon as you were out the door. You walked back into the doorway, and he laughed again. You left, he wailed. You peeked back in, he was laughing harder than ever. You crept away again and booked it to the living room amidst the high-pitched screaming, grabbing the blanket like an archeologist grabbing his hat, and ascended the stairs two at a time. You ran back into the nursery and before the baby had a chance to start laughing you heaved the blanket towards the crib as hard as you could. The blanket spread, covering the top of the crib and the baby himself. He completely lost it, shrieking with laughter to the point that you couldn't keep it in either. You lumbered over to the crib and dropped down to sit on the floor, putting yourself at eye level with the little alien.
“You think that’s funny?” You asked, smiling as the baby finally calmed down. “You think it's funny to scare me like that and make me run back and forth?”
Obviously, the baby didn't answer, but he understood that the game was over. Cooing contentedly he was surprisingly patient as you set up the blanket on the changing table and moved to scoop him back out of the crib to finally get him in a diaper. You used too much baby powder - you were a new mom, so you decided to forgive yourself - but you got the job done. With the baby safely secured and sanitary you picked him up again, electing to take him back downstairs for now.
“The pig says ‘oink oink’!”
The Farmer Says. That's what Edmund called this thing. You thought you remembered playing with one when you were little. But maybe this one was too little.
You sat with the baby in your lap on the living room floor. He was propped upright by your arm as you showed him the device. He seemed almost hypnotized as the various sounds rang out; a barking dog, a meowing cat, a growling grunny. Until, finally, the arrow landed on the cow. “The cow says ‘mooooooo’!”
The baby’s eyes lit up - not surprisingly. You didn't know what the exact connection was between cows and the Zurg but it was undeniable. When you pulled the lever and the next animal sounded out, the baby was suddenly completely uninterested. So you gently nudged the arrow to its proper starting point - the cat - and pulled the lever, the toy landing right on the animal you wanted.
“The cow says ‘mooooooo’!”
The baby cheered again before reaching forward. He was saved from falling forward only by your merciful hand but seemed not to notice as he pointed rather forcefully to the cat again. You put the arrow back on the cat and pulled the lever again, and another ‘mooooooo’ sounded from the toy. You laughed as he excitedly reached out toward the cat again.
“You got that quick!” you said, impressed, as you moved the arrow again. It astounded you how expressive this little guy was, and he was only a few days old. “You're so smart, buddy,” you said, putting the toy down and wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “A little Einstein! Smart like…”
Like your mama.
You didn't finish the thought, instead trailing off in your head as the baby tried to get your attention again. He wanted to keep hearing the cow.
Though unsure totally of the benefit this bonding was having on your relationship, you figured it indicated something that you completely lost track of the time. Ten o’clock came too quickly and you decided that was probably late enough and you should start putting the baby to bed. He went down surprisingly easy, with you only having time to read him one story before his eyes started drooping. You adjusted the settings on the baby monitor in your hand as you descended the stairs and found yourself straining to listen at every little click as you cleaned up the living room. As you picked up the final piece of litter - the letter from earlier in the evening - it dawned on you that you had been constantly occupied for the past few hours. Finally, you thought as you picked up the monitor and headed back to the basement. Finally you could get back to work.
You had barely been back at your desk for five minutes before you heard the telltale wail from the new baby monitor. A part of you told you to ignore it; it was natural for babies to scream when they were bored, and lots of parenting articles you had read told you not to engage this late at night. That he’d tire himself out eventually. As well as that, part of you was sure that he’d just start giggling at you again as soon as you got back up to the nursery. Nevertheless, you decided to make the trek back upstairs. Maybe with the right blanket or something he’d settle down.
“What are you shrieking about now?”
You spoke as you rounded the corner, fully expecting the laughter you’d grown annoyingly accustomed to, but no such laughter sounded. Instead, the crying continued. Concerned, you stepped towards the crib, turning on a dim lamp on the changing table and peering inside.
“Hey, you.”
As the baby realized you were there his cries softened, replaced by whimpers and sniffles as big black eyes looked back up at you. He let out another whine, reaching his tiny green arms up as high as he could. A pretty universal signal. You reached in and scooped him up.
“What happened?” You asked, not expecting an answer as you rocked back and forth on your feet, the baby cradled in your arms. “You have a nightmare or something?”
You removed your hand from his back, holding it under the lamp to get a glimpse at your watch. Just as you thought; too-late-for-a-baby-to-be-awake ‘o clock. But, you thought, looking down at the dark void which was once a crib, you really didn't want to leave the baby alone if he did have a nightmare. So it was time for an experiment. Your favorite thing.
You took the baby down to the kitchen, really becoming a pro at one-handed baby-handling as you dug through the fridge for one of your pre-made bottles. To your surprise he latched onto the bottle like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He downed this bottle in half the time it took him to finish his first one, but that still meant ten minutes in a silent kitchen, and an adorable case of the hiccups right after. A few quick pats to the back got him right again and you started towards the stairs to put him back to bed. You supposed you'd sit with him until he fell asleep again, to put his little mind at ease. And it would be a good chance to observe him, too.
At least, that was the plan, until you saw the cracked door to your basement lab. You thought a minute; no sense putting a wide-awake baby back to bed, especially if it meant he’d be scared. You weren't much for child-rearing, but you tended to trust your gut. You looked down at the baby.
“Wanna see the lab?”
Of all the things you expected to find digging through your closet you weren't sure if earmuffs should have shocked you, but they did. Oddly placed and oddly perfect, you gently laid them over his head, making sure they were snug - but not tight - over his ear holes. These poor little bulbous babies. They had such big heads.
The baby was still rubbing tears from his eyes as you descended the staircase, the lights still on from before. Again he made a big show of looking around; again, he didn't hate the space. But this time he was astounded by it, much like he had been when the toy upstairs mooed at him. You grabbed a spare lab coat and made him a nest in your desk, plopping him down next to you as you worked. He loved the lights and sounds - he especially loved slapping the red dots as they came up on the device next to him. It was sturdy, you figured it would hold against half-inch baby hands. You even scooped him up whenever you had to walk around the lab, making sure to explain the devices that caught his attention. You were sure you'd have to do this all again someday when he could understand it, but you found yourself already excited.
Maybe he'd be a scientist. Like his mama.
“How is our new mother holding up?”
“I'm still alive, I think.”
The baby finally fell asleep around five in the morning, just in time for the both of you - he went to sleep before he made it to the crib and you just barely made it to your own bed. The monitor had, thankfully, landed on your pillow, and he was still sleeping soundly when you woke up later that morning. Only to hear the phone ring as soon as you got downstairs.
“I apologize for contacting you so early, but I figured you'd be awake regardless.”
“No need, Edmund.” You answered. “It goes without saying that you were correct as always.”
“In any case, I can't help but admit that I’m nervous, Astrid.”
“Nervous? What for? Just because a single fourteen-year-old orphan with an illegal full-time job adopted a newborn from another planet? Edmund, it’ll be fiiiiine.”
He laughed. “At least you're acknowledging that now. Johnny’s still calling him your ‘little experiment’.”
“Give me six months and I’ll be offended by that.”
“But how was your first night with the little guy?” Edmund asked. “Was it productive? Did you learn anything?”
You felt the butterflies in your stomach and could hardly stop your tirade.
“He's a genius, Edmund!”
You were barely conscious of everything that was spilling out of your mouth, pacing in your kitchen as you sang the praises of your new baby boy. You described the game he played with you, how he was careful to observe any new place you brought him, how quickly he caught on to The Farmer Says. And oh, how he loved the lab in the basement. You went over everything in detail, culminating in a wonder if he'd end up working at G-Corp. Your words slowed to a stop as you heard Edmund chuckle on the other end.
“What?”
“I take back everything I said,” Edmund finally replied. “You're going to make a great mom.”
“Thank you, Edmund,” you said. “I just hope you're right.”
“So what did you name the little guy?”
“I asked for a disc of baby names. It should be arriving today.” You explained. “I think I'm going to want to give him a Zurg name. Might make things easier down the road.”
“But he's being raised by a human. Will it matter?”
“Well,” you said with a chuckle. “It's either that or a boring human name, and I'd like to avoid naming him after anybody. I don't know what would even sound good with a last name like Nacht.”
“What a coincidence. You know, the Labtechs had the same problem when you were born.”
“Did they?”
“Oh goodness.” You heard Edmund adjust himself at his desk. You wondered if he was - God forbid - putting his feet up. “Let me tell you a story, astronaut. Maybe this will help you come up with a name...”
That night, the same time as the last, you heard another knock on the door. This time, though, another set of ears heard it too. So you scooped up your son - now awake - and headed back downstairs. Leaving his new favorite toy sadly behind. Opening the door you saw the saucer again -- actually, no, this one was a little bigger. It proceeded to slowly drop a full box on your doorstep before addressing you.
“Baby name disc processing…”
“Actually,” you chimed in, adjusting the baby in your arms so he could see the saucer. “I have a name for him.”
“Process aborted.”
Well that was a moral shock waiting to happen.
“What would you like to name him?”
Cosmo Nacht. It was a beautiful name for a beautiful baby boy. After a long conversation with Edmund you had finally found the perfect name for this little gift from the cosmos itself. Cosmo Nacht, who you would raise among the stars so he could reach the moon and come of age with the universe. You saw the galaxy in his eyes, and you knew he would make it his playground. Beings from planets far and wide would know the Nacht name. Not for you, no, but for your son. Ever curious and ever celestial. Your son--
“Moo moo!”
You had opened your mouth to speak but, apparently, not quickly enough. You looked down at him in disbelief. Not only was this baby already saying his first words, but they were popping out at the most inopportune time. All because of his demand for that damn toy.
“Naming baby Moo Moo. Is this correct?”
Before you could even take a breath, he was at it again.
“Moo moo! Moo moo!”
“Name confirmed. Congratulations, Moo Moo Nacht.”
You stammered as the saucer played what you eventually figured out to be an 8-bit version of Happy Birthday to celebrate the milestone, printing out an official Certificate of Adoption from a slot in the front. You weren't sure whether to laugh or cry when you saw the name in print and the saucer said its final farewell. Leaving you stunned, with a hysterically happy baby in one arm and a certificate in the other hand. You looked at it again to be sure. Maybe if you looked at it enough it would change. You were a scientist; you had to test your theory. But there it was, plain as day.
Moo Moo Nacht.
You took a slow, deep breath.
“Well,” you said, turning your attention to your son. “I hope you're happy. This is your name now.”
Maybe he'd regret it as a teenager. But, for now, you couldn't wait to tell Edmund.
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