At that moment both of their guardian’s lights flashed and they heard the same message. “Please be informed that this conversation might soon breach section ten, subsection five of the Accord.”
Zoe froze, unsure of what to do. “Arseholes,” she exploded. “How fucking dare they.”
“Zoe please. I’m sorry.”
“Fuck the Accord,” she said as she stormed off. Biyu hoped their guardians would not report Zoe’s indiscretion, understanding that it came from anger. But if she continued she would be reported and have to face a justice for a lecture. It was an offence to in any way pressure or harass a citizen who was legally following the Accord, including emotional blackmail.
“Babe,” said Biyu rushing after her.
“Fuck,” screamed Zoe to the sky as if the Accord were some god on Mt Olympus, before she started crying.
“Babe,” said Biyu hugging her as she sobbed.
“I… I…” she stammered as she tried to regain control. “I wanted to… To tell you that I wanted… A circle… A baby. I wanted to have your baby.”
“My baby?”
She nodded. “By surrogacy.”
“Oh Zoe, really? But you…?”
“Twins, a dual implant, my ova and yours gestating together.”
Biyu was shocked. She had no idea Zoe had been planning this, offering her womb so that she could have a child.
“I’m just scared. I just know this is serious.”
There was nothing much to be said. They were both shocked and emotionally drained. They ate silently, unsure of what to say to each other. When they finished they went their separate ways. They kissed but it seemed forced and empty.
Biyu collapsed on her bed, exhausted. She had wanted to go for a run that day but she felt drained of energy. She was about to drift off when her guardian announced that her coach wanted to speak to her.
“Yes,” she snapped.
“Per its program, which you agreed to by the way, your guardian has informed me that you are dehydrated and hung over with residues of amp and alcohol, which is a breach of your training regime. Need I remind you that you have an important match in a few days? Get off your arse, rehydrate with isotonic and go for a long, long run or I’ll cancel it.”
“Fuck,” she swore as she hauled herself out of bed. He was right. She couldn’t afford to feel sorry for herself.
Back at her home Zoe carefully unwrapped the vase and placed it on her windowsill so it would catch the light. She had resolved to wait for Biyu, trusting that everything would be all right. She had a cup of tea and did a few stretches to relax some tightness in her shoulders. She was in the middle of the splits when her guardian announced that justice Goya wanted to speak with her. She wanted to ignore her but you simply didn’t ignore a justice. She swallowed, nervous about what might be about to happen.
“Zoe Koh?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
“Are you close to a screen? I want to talk to you about Zhang Biyu.”
She rolled out of the splits and reached across the floor for a portable screen she had left lying around. It was already displaying the justice’s smiling face.
“Ah, there you are. Now be reassured that this is not a reprimand. You’ve done nothing wrong, but given recent events it is only fair that we have a little chat.”
Zoe scowled but listened as the justice asked her to commit to a section ten, subsection five. She agreed and the justice calmly explained that they had asked Biyu to do something very important and that Biyu would need her full support. Zoe thought it was a little patronising but it did make her feel better: included. When the call was finished she tried to call Biyu but her guardian told her she was in training and unavailable.
Perhaps everything would be all right she thought as she looked at the vase glowing, backlit by the sun. It was beautiful: the perfect gift.
25
Prax
It was a two-hour trip at speed. He left the archipelago and crossed the Luminous Sea to the large island of Arcadia, skimming across forest and open plain until he reached the Olympian Mountains. The hover slowed and descended into a small valley. He wondered if the autopilot had malfunctioned because he could see no sign of buildings or human life. It wasn’t until the hover settled that he could see carefully camouflaged wooden buildings and a solitary figure walking across the grass. He knew who it was immediately: Vera Shimazu, newly appointed strategos of the Eden Defence Force. She was as he remembered, a small woman who, despite being fifty, had retained her former champion athlete’s body. He noted that she was wearing a uniform of sorts, a purple sarong edged with gold and a gold wristband he assumed denoted her office. She was, as usual, topless, her small breasts still firm, both her nipples pierced and her torso covered in the familiar tribal tattoos, although her closely cropped hair had since turned grey.
“Strategos,” he said with a wry smile as he stepped out of the hover.
“Prax old friend,” she said as she stepped forward to hug him.
“You haven’t changed.”
“Oh, a few extra grey hairs… Come, let me show you your quarters, get you settled.”
“That’s okay; it can wait. I’m dying to find out what all this is about.”
“You will, but there are formalities.”
As he walked with her into the forest they chatted about personal news: her new grandchildren and great grandchildren, his potential fatherhood, news of mutual acquaintances from his days in Congress.
It wasn’t too long before they came to the wooden buildings hidden under the forest canopy. They stood aside for a naked youth guiding a large log down the path using a levitator. A little further down the path he heard hammering and voices; a turn in the path revealed a hive of activity as people clambered every which way to erect buildings.
“Are we expecting an attack? This is all very well camouflaged,” he asked as a girl of no more than eleven guided a pallet of floorboards toward a recently erected frame.
“Possibly, but this is also a training exercise. This is the mech platoon. It’s to see how quickly we can build a base and how well the platoon can work together.” She pointed to a tall male figure in a plain purple sarong carefully watching the proceedings. “You recognise Dr Gaston Sauvaterre?”
“Ah yes, the noted theraputae – psychology.”
“Truth is we’ve been at peace our whole existence. We don’t really know how to run a defence force. I mean, we can look at Earth’s martial history and Gaston has made a particular study of the psychology of warfare, but we are novices. At the moment we are experimenting with constructing an appropriate military culture. What is the appropriate level of hierarchy, discipline, esprit d’corps, that sort of thing?”
He nodded. “And what about the actual war part of it?”
“Well, that’s a much larger question. We have one platoon of twenty fully trained special forces, two smaller units for planetary expeditions, three more platoons have just been recruited and a further ten planned, along with ancillary specialists.”
“That’s not much.”
“It’s as much as we can manage at the moment without putting the whole of Eden on a war footing and that may not be necessary. Here we are,” she said gesturing to a small wooden shack. “Humble I know, my sleeping quarters are not much bigger.”
He entered and looked around. There was a simple bed, a desk, a closet and a moderately large screen. “It’s like my room at the monastery. It’s all I need.”
She nodded. “Good, you’ll find a purple sarong in the closet. We’ll have a more formal ceremony later but as of now you have been commissioned with the rank of magnus. You will also find a silver wristband that denotes your rank, please wear this at all times. Your guardian has now been informed of your new status and the relevant security clearances. I must ask you to respect the responsibilities of your rank. Your screen will display the relevant protocols in regard to discipline. I know it will be strange at first but such a structure is nec
essary. I’ll leave you to relax. Someone will come and fetch you in about half an hour. Good to have you with us magnus.”
“Do I salute?”
Strategos Shimazu smiled. “No, we’re not that rigid, but you do address me by my rank.”
“In that case,” he said adopting a more formal tone, “strategos.”
She smiled. “Magnus.”
From stone to wood, he thought, stroking the wall. Rough-hewn, untreated, the oils still fresh and fragrant, temporary. He opened the closet and noted four sarongs, two shirts and two vests in case it turned cold, all the same shade of purple. He snapped on the wristband and twisted it to look at the intricate pattern of swirls. Not exactly functional but no doubt the psychologists had decided it served some symbolic purpose. He took off his civilian sarong, put on his purple officer’s issue, sat at his desk and reviewed the protocols.
The structure of the defence force was basic. A command level with two ranks: strategos and magnus. Currently there were four strategos, each with their own area of responsibility. Assisting them in various capacities were sixteen magnuses (now seventeen). Under them were the soldiers, called defenders. These were arranged into units according to their function. Each unit was more or less democratic, although they did elect a leader, a captain, who had the final say.
He was interested to read that one core protocol was no sexual relations between the command level and the soldiers. This was to protect the tight bonds encouraged amongst the units, with each functioning as an erotic circle. The psychologists argued that the bond was a great motivator and he had read somewhere of the unique brotherly bond forged in battle, especially amongst the Spartans who tolerated homosexual bonding – what then of the bond between sisters and brothers of the same unit? The sexual needs of the command level would be met, if necessary, by specially appointed consorts who had volunteered. But he did not imagine that his sexual desires would require such a service. He had, until Cynthia had made her request, enjoyed a period of celibacy in which he was free to focus on more abstract matters.
The rest of the manual was concerned with practicalities: working hours, leave allotments, communication with civilians, rights and responsibilities and so forth. It all seemed rather straightforward and sensible. It just lacked a context, a why.
He had just finished a second read when he heard a knock on his door and a female voice, “magnus Smith?”
“Yes, coming.” He opened the door to see a tall girl with vivid yellow bird-eyes and auburn hair tied in the tight, high ponytail of a defender, the sides and back of her head shaved. He guessed she must have been about thirteen.
“I’m defender Amy Torv. I’ve been assigned to take you to the command centre.” For some reason he expected her to be wearing some form of uniform but like all the others she was naked. Perhaps the defenders were modelled on the Spartans? In any case, it did not matter. “Are you familiar with lev scooters, sir?” she asked pointing to two levitator platforms with handlebars.
“I’ve seen them but never had much use for them. Can’t we walk?”
“We’re expected in ten minutes sir, if we walk it will take thirty.”
“I see… I had no idea.”
“If you are uncertain I can link your scooter with mine, it will follow me automatically. All you need do is hold on.”
“Well defender, I am in your capable hands.”
She walked to the scooter, planted her feet firmly on the lev platform and grasped the handlebars. It was then he noticed her long muscular legs and tight gluts. “A runner I see, from the north?”
“Yes, I run with the sprights. Now magnus, you’ll need to keep both feet on the platform and both hands on the bars. It is best if you bend your knees a little and relax, don’t hold too tight. I’ll start slow so you can get the feel. As you will see it is directed by how much you lean: lean forward and it will pick up speed; lean back and it will slow; lean to the left and it will bank to the left. Your controls will mimic mine, but if you feel disoriented tell me immediately. Are you ready to lift?”
“Yes,” he said with a tone of uncertainty.
The scooters lifted in unison. As he adjusted his weight there was a little bounce.
“Okay, moving forward magnus.”
He felt the handles tilt forward as the scooters moved. He understood that he was supposed to relax but the sensation was odd and he had to fight the urge to tighten his grip. He never did like levitators of any kind.
After about a minute the girl picked up speed and headed through the forest toward the mountains.
“How fast can these things go?” he yelled.
“Fairly fast in skilled hands, they’ll accept a near forty-five degree tilt around corners.”
“Don’t you fall off?”
“Not at speed, momentum keeps you on. It is possible to do full loops, spins and other tricks,” she said as they skimmed through the forest.
“And can I assume defender Torv, that you are so skilled?”
“Yes sir, one of the best.”
His compliment encouraged her to show off by increasing speed and banking to the right. He was concerned as the scooter tilted but he remained firmly planted to the platform. He was beginning to get the feel, even to enjoy the sensation.
After about five minutes they came out into an open field. They passed a group of defenders running at speed over an obstacle course. A little further along and they passed another group sparring with wooden poles.
“What martial skill is that?” he yelled.
“An ancient Japanese martial art called kendo sir. It is part of the essential skills. Good for reflexes.”
The defender banked suddenly and guided the scooters up a hill. The mountain loomed ahead. She banked again and headed directly for a cliff face. He became alarmed. Surely not? But as she approached, the rock face seemed to shimmer and they glided effortlessly through - a holographic illusion. They entered a dimly lit mineshaft walled by machine cut rock. After a moderate distance she slowed their speed and came to a halt.
“Are we there?”
“No, look up.”
He lifted his head and became almost instantly dizzy as he looked up at a long shaft. “Shit,” he exclaimed.
The defender laughed. “These were mines; they were exhausted fifty years ago. They extend throughout the mountain. Now sir, I especially advise you to hold on at this point.”
She manoeuvred the scooters so that they were in the middle of the shaft and then pushed a button on her handlebar. They lifted effortlessly, passing different levels with corridors shooting out at all angles.
“I hope there are conventional lifts?”
“Yes sir, this is the main drone shaft.”
The scooters began to turn and when they reached the right level she pushed them forward down another corridor, finally bringing them to rest.
“This is where I leave you sir. I don’t have the authority to continue.”
He sighed with relief. “Well, thank you defender, but tell me, on a more pressing matter, where are the toilets.”
She smiled. “Blue doors. They’re on every level. Your guardian will direct you after that.”
As soon as he got off the scooter she turned around and headed down the corridor at high speed, plummeting down the shaft without hesitation. He realised that she had been very delicate with him.
26
Nuku
Nuku stretched and yawned. She could hear music coming from the living room. “What time is it?” she asked her guardian.
“10:13.”
They had obviously let her sleep in. She tossed off the sheets and slowly placed her feet on the floor. She stretched again. She had a headache, no doubt a result of dehydration, a lack of sleep and a bit too much boo wine. She stumbled to the shower and luxuriated in the hot water and fragrant soaps and oils.
Feeling refreshed she walked into the kitchen, her hair still dripping wet. Miriam was nowhere to be seen; no doubt in her study drawing up
plans for her latest design; and David in the living room with Maxim, composing. She decided not to disturb them and after serving herself a bowl of rainforest muesli with diced minko fruit and a hot mug of herbal tea, she wandered out to the table on the patio. The morning clouds were beginning to break and a flock of green draco squealed at being disturbed by a hover carrying a load of building supplies to one of the new houses being built on the island. It wasn’t something she liked. Even though all new buildings had to blend into the landscape and have a minimal environmental impact she regretted human expansion into such beautiful places. She knew it was a selfish idea, but she was glad that the Common had agreed to halt development in the capital and create a second city in the north.
After cleaning her teeth she decided to go for a walk and a swim. She interrupted David to ask where he kept his fins and snorkel and then walked out the front door with a small knapsack containing a flask of water, some biscuits for a snack and earphones so she could block out the ambient sound and listen to music undisturbed as she walked the two kilometres to the other end of the island.
It was a vague plan: to continue her exploration of the reef. Some years before she had explored the eastern ridge but had to leave the rest due to commitments back at the Academy. The water was warm due to the eastern current, which meant she could spend hours in the water, to the point that her hands and toes would begin to wrinkle.
At first she coasted over the shallow end of the reef. Everything was familiar, the same coral outgrowth, the same species of fish, crustaceans, shellfish, tubers, worms, ten footed scuttlers and multi-coloured seaweed. As with everything, function defined form. If she was to travel to other planets she doubted she would find too many surprises. Indeed, the most dominant theory in exobiology was that most life-bearing planets would experiment in much the same way as every other, with each planet developing the same exotic forms in exceptional circumstances. So just as Earth had its deep sea volcanic plumes, Eden had its deep sea plumes. Just as Earth had its weird deep sea creatures, Eden had its deep sea oddities. Just as Earth had winged creatures, so Eden had winged creatures. Just as Earth had swimmers with fins, Eden had swimmers with fins, and although there had been no evidence of Eden once having dinosaurs and mega-fauna, it was theorised that other planets might very well experiment with similar forms. The differences would be caused by the larger history of the planet, like the significant disasters that had created the different eras on Earth. On one planet six legged forms might gain an evolutionary foothold as they had on Pangaea, on others it might be insect forms or snake forms. It was an ongoing joke amongst her peers at the Academy that some planets might throw up curious reversals, with sentient insectoids feeding off small humanoids or sentient cat-creatures keeping humanoids as pets. But as for radically new forms – that might prove to be unlikely. Biology still had to obey natural laws.
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