by David Winnie
Sullenly, she hobbled back to her room, took a quick shower and changed into clean clothes. Red felt her spirits rise until she arrived at the dining room and was furious to see Dr. Yuri already there, calmly eating his lunch.
“Quite a treat there, young lady,” said one of the dining workers. “Our first crop of carrots! I like them fresh, but they made a delightful dish, butter sautéed carrots. Try it!”
Five carrots sat on the side her plate, each about four inches long and fat. They swam in a thin butter sauce. “I don’t like carrots,” she announced to the cosmos. When finished, all that remained on her plate were the five orange vegetables.
Dr. Yuri appeared. “Don’t forget your carrots.”
“NO! I don’t like carrots.”
“Really? Just try one.”
NO!”
“Come on Red. Be a good girl, just try one. You may like it.”
In one vicious movement, the girl stabbed one carrot, brought up and into her mouth, chewed a couple of times and made an ugly face as she spat it out.
“I don’t like carrots!” was her agonized scream. “Why won’t you idiots listen to me for a change?”
An immediate buzzing began in her skull and she felt her body stiffen. Unseen by Red, the nurse who had approached her from the rear smiled and signaled with a thumb up. An older woman used a napkin remove Red’s spat carrots, then seated herself across the table. “That’s another function of the neutralizer,” she explained. “You have no control over your body now. And this,” she affixed a pad to the girl’s forehead, “neutralizes your psionic ability. So, you will not get your way. You can agree to stop this nonsense immediately or you can sit here and whine like a baby until you do. Then you will eat your carrots like a good little girl would, anyway. Understand?”
“You can’t do this to me!” Red screamed, “I am the heir to the fifteenth reincarnation of our revered founder, the Great Angkor Khan! I will be all you dummies’ Empress in three years! Why won’t you listen to me?” Everyone in the room laughed. She yelled and cursed; they just finished their meals and went on their way.
A group of technicians walked by her table. “Seems to me the fifteenth reincarnation of the Great Khan needs to have her fanny paddled,” someone said, instigating a further round of laughter.
Doctor Yuri finished his meal and went to his patient. “Missus Adams is a farmer, but her work is done for the day. She has already raised three daughters, so I wouldn’t be so pig-headed with her.”
The big woman, Mrs. Adams, still sat across from her. “Are you ready to be good?” she asked.
Red glared.
“O.K.” the older woman said. “I’ll see you in an hour.” True to her word, Mrs. Adams checked every hour on the hour. After one, Red was still glaring. Two hours and she was sniffling. Three and she was crying. “Please, Miss,” she begged, “Can I please go?”
Mrs. Adams crossed her arms. “Will you be good?” she asked.
Red sniffled. “Yes,” she agreed in a tiny voice. The older woman patted the girl’s shoulder, smoothed an errant golden lock.
“No more conniption?” she asked.
“Nuh-uh,” Red answered.
“And you eat the carrots,” Mrs. Adams finished.
Red began to weep once more.
“I really don’t like carrots,” was her tiny-voiced reply.
Mrs. Adams tipped her head. “Was that any way to let us know? Next time you don’t like something, you say so politely. Then I’ll warn them not to serve it to you.”
Red ate supper with Mrs. Adams that night. They chatted together for a bit after, then the girl hobbled over to Dr. Yuri. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I was bad today and I said things I didn’t mean.”
“You need to talk when you feel this way, little Red,” he said finally. “It’s the only way we can help.” Red nodded her understanding. “So, do you need to go to your room and study or do you want to go watch the sunset first?” he asked.
Her rare smile was more brilliant than the dual sunset they would see. “Sunset, please,” she said.
They sat away from the other sunset viewers. She cuddled up next to him, still sad and afraid. Hesitantly, she told him about the Proctors, how they had considered discontinuing her. The thought of not becoming Khan terrified her. She turned her face to his chest and sobbed. Red File had never cried in her fifteen years. Clearly, it would be a sign of weakness. Here, under the starry skies, she released fifteen years of pent up tears. Yuri held her close and gently stroked her hair.
Red entered a funk. She went through her rehabilitation and school work without enthusiasm. She would occasionally hobble about the research station visiting the residents she had befriended, but most of her free time was spent staring at the plains outside the station. She was quiet at meals, speaking when spoken to, responding in a low voice. There were times she would seem to be brightening, but would soon return to her silent, almost sullen mood.
The station residents became concerned. Katy O’Brien, an Irish botanist to whom Red had attached herself, had a long talk with the girl one afternoon. “She’s a teenager,” Katy said. “’Tis what happens to teenagers.” The women of the station agreed and set about figuring out what to do about Red and her mood.
Yuri was oblivious to Red’s darker mood. He had assigned some of the other residents to help with her schoolwork. She fussed with her assignments, unless Yuri was about. When he was, she brightened and worked harder, eager to please him. She wouldn’t always sit with him during meals, but would sneak glances at him when she didn’t. In the evenings, though, they would spend hours watching the sunset and talking.
The women of the station noticed; some would cluck their tongues at the young doctor and his teenaged charge. Mrs. Adams would set them straight. “Well, it’s plain to see she fallen for him and why not?” she would say. “He’s young and handsome enough. And quite responsible, as you all know. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and we’ve nothing to worry about. Leave them be.”
The idea for the party came from the station master himself. During an informal meeting, he suggested the party for young Red before she left, three weeks hence. Everyone thought it was a grand idea and they set about planning immediately. Doctor Yuri took it upon himself to call the Proctor.
“Delay her departure for a week for, a what?” The Proctor seemed genuinely confused.
“A sweet sixteen birthday party,” Yuri explained. “It’s a custom from some of our residents. Some of the women here had them, others had a coming out party when they were that age. With the depression she’s been in, I think it would be a good event for her.”
Red’s Proctor was nonplussed. “We have never considered such a thing before,” he admitted. “We tell the children when it is their birthday, of course. It’s considered a milepost and gives them a specific goal and timeframe. But the Great Khan never made much attention to his birthday, except when the children are presented and when they are named. Still, I see no detriment. Might I attend the party and observe? Perhaps we will use this “Sweet Sixteen” in the future.”
Yuri showed up one morning with a sidesaddle. He mounted it to a horse and Red could ride again without putting too much stress on her recovering knee. Three days before the party, as they were preparing to go riding, Yuri told Red, “I have a word. Raudona. Do you know what it means?”
Red concentrated for a moment. “Yes, Old Vietnamese. It means red.”
He lifted her into her saddle and helped her put her feet in the stirrups. “I think it much better suits you. I believe I will start calling you Raudona.” He tilted his head. “Raudona. Yes, it’s a prettier name than just plain old Red.”
She blushed. She couldn’t recall being called pretty.
They spent all the time they could together the last week. She had discarded the crutches and was walking much better, although she still needed the brace. They had taken to holding hands and that got the tongues wagging again. The Proctor observed them
and said nothing. But he could be seen from time to time with a small smile on his face.
The afternoon of the party, the women took her away. “What is going on?” the confused girl asked.
“A party,” they explained. “You’re our guest of honor and it won’t do to wear your everyday clothes.” Red protested, but didn’t fight as they supervised her bathing. The station barber made an appearance. Red balked. Her one vanity was her hair, and this barber also worked in the composting pits. She was finally convinced to let him cut and arrange her hair. When he showed her the mirror, she gasped. He had spiraled her hair up several inches, then allowed it to flow down her back, “Oh my!” was all the stunned girl could manage.
They produced a formal dress, made from the crepe and silks requested from the Proctor. It didn’t fit perfectly and there was little time to adjust it, but Red loved it all the same.
Her mirror image left her speechless. Red looked and felt like a princess. She blushed and turned to her friends, “Thank you,” she gushed. “I don’t know what else to say. Thank you.”
They led her to the gaudily decorated cafeteria, where the station manager was waiting outside the door. He was wearing his formal uniform, though it had clearly seen better days. He wasn’t wearing his customary ball cap, either. Red was slightly surprised that what she thought was a thick mop of hair was instead an unruly ring. His pate shone under the artificial lamps as he bowed formally and offered her an arm.
They entered the cafeteria and were announced. “Residents of Celtius 4, station manager Rory Gant is pleased to present Miss Raudona of Terra.” Everyone was there and all applauded as he escorted her to the front of the room, followed by all the station’s women. Over her head, a large sign read, “Happy Sweet Sixteen, Raudona!”
She was overwhelmed. Mrs. Adams presented her with a wrist corsage. The station manager handed her a box, “From the whole station.” Inside was a thin gold bracelet, with the word “Raudona” spelled out. He helped her place it on her wrist.
Then Dr. Yuri stepped forward. “This is from me, Raudona.” Inside his gift was a gold necklace, with a small ruby setting. Mrs. Adams held Raudona’s hair up as Doctor Yuri fastened it around her slender throat. Red, Raudona, fingered the gift, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
The party went into full swing. The station manager claimed the honor of the first dance, but soon she was dancing with everyone. Mindful of her knee, they were sure to give her frequent breaks to sit and visit. Holo-cameras were produced, since everyone wanted an image with the heir. She laughed and danced, ate cakes and danced more.
Finally, Dr. Yuri produced a hoverchair for her. “It is late,” he explained, “And she is still a student, after all.” There were groans all around, but he resolutely put the tired girl in the chair and returned her to her room. “Did you have a good time, Raudona?” he asked her.
She nodded, strangely shy. “It was nearly perfect,” she replied. “It just needed one more thing.”
Dr. Yuri puzzled, replied, “What would that be?”
“This.” She stood on tiptoe again, put her arm around his neck and kissed his mouth. “My first real kiss,” she explained. Then she turned and rushed into her room, closing the door behind her.
Chapter 5
They were walking through the fields, at the doctor’s insistence. His excuse was to have her get more exercise for her leg. It gave them time to hold hands and talk. Raudona was thrilled spending time with Yuri. He had asked her to call him by his given name, a very grown-up thing, indeed.
Yuri had exciting news for her tonight. “I have received a letter from Christ the Savior Hospital in New Moscow,” he told her. “I am offered a residency in surgery. I have accepted and will be there in three months.”
“Oh, Yuri, that is wonderful!” Raudona exclaimed. “I know you have been working so hard for that job. And you’ll be so close to Giza! Less than an hour by sub orbital!”
Yuri chuckled. “Yes, so close, if I could afford such a thing. More likely, I will have to rent a flier and take half a day to see you there. That is,” he grew quiet, “if you want me to come see you there.”
“I do,” she said softly. “I will be busy with school, but I’m sure I can ask my Proctor for time to see you. And,” she was mischievous now, “we have a fleet of transports at Giza Palace, including a couple of sub orbitals. Getting you to Giza from New Moscow shouldn’t be a worry.”
They continued to walk through the gathering dusk. Returning to the station, the suns finally set and the sky went dark, illuminated only by the seemingly endless sweep of stars from the Sagittarius Arm. Annika took Yuri’s hand in hers, their fingers intertwined. “I am told by my Proctors that when I consider the night sky, I am considering the past, given the speed of light and the time it takes to reach my eyes where I stand at this very moment,” she said. “But given my position, given who I am and what I know I am destined to become, I’m sure I can see into the future.”
“What do you see in your future?” Yuri asked.
“I see my Empire,” her voice was firm. “I will be the Khan, Yuri. I know it. I just hope…” her voice trailed off. She swallowed and said, “I just hope you come to see me at Giza Palace, Yuri. Promise me you will.”
He kissed her slender fingers. “I will.”
It was the day for her to leave. Raudona arose and donned her red unitard, shorts and jacket. Her things were packed in the small valise that came with her. She looked longingly at the party dress the station ladies had made for her, then stroked the smooth silk and crisp crepe and sighed. There would be no opportunity to wear it when she got home. And she had no way to pack it, anyway.
A tap on the door brought forth Katy, Mrs. Adams and the women she had befriended. Katy saw the dress in the closet and asked, “Here, now, what’s this? Surely you’re not running off and leaving it behind!”
“I don’t have room on the shuttle to transport it,” Raudona explained. “At Giza, we are issued uniforms, so I won’t have an opportunity to wear it.”
Mrs. Adams took Raudona’s hands and explained. “Dear, you aren’t taking this dress to wear again. You take it and put it in your hope chest. One day, you’ll have a daughter and you’ll show it to her when she turns sixteen. She may wear it, or use it as an idea for her dress. So, you hold on to it, O.K.?”
Raudona chuckled as she pointed out, “When I become Empress, I will have at least four heir daughters.”
Chatter abounded as the females ate; Raudona blew Yuri a kiss when he entered and waved to her. The couple didn’t sit together. Raudona was surrounded by her women friends; the conversation was lively and there were constant shrieks of laughter. Yuri sat to one side, not eating, focused on his cup of coffee.
The room became silent when the Proctor arrived. He found a seat next to Yuri, but the spell was broken. The women issued tearful, hurried goodbyes and, red eyed, went about their duties.
Soon, only Mrs. Adams, Katy, Raudona, Yuri and the Proctor remained. There was an awkward silence until the Proctor stood, saying, “Child, I’ll be waiting at the ship. Take care of your goodbyes.”
Yuri moved next to the sniffling girl. The huddled together for several minutes, before Raudona said, “I’d better go.” He took her hand and they walked through the station to the landing pad, followed by Mrs. Adams and Katy. Friends called out to her as she passed.
The Proctor waited for her at the shuttle. Katy marched up to him and thrust a box into his surprised arms. “This here is her party dress from her birthday,” she intoned in her sweet brogue. “It is very important to her. You will see it’s safely stored aboard and when she gets home, you’ll see it’s put away for her. Do you understand?”
The Proctor held the box away from his body, as if it were strange and unpleasant. But he nodded and disappeared into the ship and returned a few minutes later telling Katy and Mrs. Adams, “It is as you asked and will be done as you have said.” Mrs. Adams grunted and the two women g
ave Raudona a final hug, then returned to the building.
It was as though they were alone. He held her tightly, never wanting to let go. She clung to him.
Her Proctor cleared his throat.
“Until New Moscow, Raudona. Three months.”
“New Moscow, Yuri.”
“No crying now.”
“Of course not.”
Raudona, her head down, entered the ship. She turned at the hatch and blew Yuri a kiss.
“I shall make sure we schedule some time for you two to see each other,” the Proctor stated. “I cannot guarantee as much time as you might like. But I’m sure we can work something out.” He held out his hand.
“Thank you.” Yuri clasped the Proctor’s hand.
The hatch closed with a hiss as the Proctor entered the ship. Liftplates glowed and the ship slowly raised, turned and flew up and away. Yuri watched, his heart aching. Three months. Dejected, lonely already, he put his hands in his pockets and went for a walk in the fields.
She was asleep. He closed the door and went to the secret comm station, the one that used otherspace to carry the message. Even the military didn’t have it. He tuned it in and waited.
The File Master appeared.
“I greet you, Master,” the Proctor said.
“And I you, my servant. She is aboard and well?”
“Yes, Master. There will be continued rehabilitation on her knee. It is likely that will be a weak point for some time. But I believe it will not handicap her for long.”
“Very well. What of the emotional program? Did it activate as we designed?”
“Yes Master. She is exhibiting the range of emotions as we had hoped. Normal, teen age instability has exceeded expectations slightly, but the research station was an excellent training ground for her to gain control over her more, shall we say, unsavory outbursts.”