The truth was that she was bored beyond belief. Dignitary after dignitary had given speeches and handed out awards for this or that outstanding service (in the military arts and sciences). Were the Edenoi simpletons who needed medals, trinkets?
The only thing that had impressed her was the demonstration flyovers of militarised scooters and darts in close formation, and three drukh class fighters, which had, for added dramatic effect, broken the sound barrier high overhead and sent three loud sonic booms across the capital to thrill the crowd. They had then engaged in a mock aerial battle that more than adequately displayed the capabilities of each; the scooters with their agility in close-to-ground combat, the darts in speed and firepower, and finally the drukh for beauty and technological majesty. There had been explosions, the flash of lasers and the tak-tak-tak of bullets, all performed safely, but awe inspiring nonetheless.
Still, she had to admit the public was lapping it up. Prax had argued that many citizens saw this celebration as a sign of social maturity. It had taken two hundred years for Eden to grow from the size of a village to a technologically advanced city-state. She supposed, reluctantly, that the sending of Eden’s first diplomatic mission to Earth and the scientific expeditions to Calliope and Erato were worth celebrating. Her irritation was purely selfish. She wanted to be down in the crowd with the ordinary defenders, mingling with family and friends and collecting admirers, or engaged in the many demonstrations of the martial arts. She wanted to be active, not a symbol, an archetype.
She was squirming uncomfortably and pulling at her curaiss to try and get some air circulating when the president took the main podium. She was certainly an impressive figure, especially in the flesh: tall, powerful, only ever wearing traditional tribal ornaments, her torso lined with ritual scarification. She commanded immediate attention. On this day it was her task to announce that the two expeditionary teams would leave in just two days. As she introduced the two teams they took their positions on the dais to enthusiastic applause from the attentive crowd. Biyu looked over at Nuku, who was smiling at seeing the science officer of the Calliope expedition, Dr Isla Campbell, also dressed in a colour shifting chiton. It was her first time seeing Nuku’s most recent lover. Her immediate impression was confused, as if Isla were a shape-shifter, oscillating between old and young, charismatic and shy, authoritative and vulnerable. She seemed perfectly at ease with her new status; as if there could be no doubt she was worthy.
And standing next to her, introduced as the captain of the Calliope defender platoon, was the bird-eye she had met playing soccer, Kat Sakamura. She looked impressive in her basic armour, as if she had worn it all her life. She felt a pang of desire as she remembered the night after her fight and she couldn’t help but glance down to look at the cleft of her vulva and her impressive thighs. When she looked up Kat was looking back at her, slightly amused, as if she had understood what was on Biyu’s mind. Biyu tried to retain her composure and nodded her head to signal that she was impressed with her success. Maybe she would get a chance to talk to her at the reception later that night.
After introducing the Erato expeditionary team the president paused for rhetorical effect and carefully announced the discovery of three more habitable planets: Aoedë, Thalia and Euterpe. Vision on the screen behind her showed a small planet of gentle hills, low forests and sweeping grasslands; an Earth sized planet with large polar areas and a fertile, temperate tropical zone; and a young planet with towering mountain ranges, lush, hidden valleys and large desert regions pocketed by inland seas, lakes and oases.
When she saw these images Biyu understood that the celebrations served another purpose – to inspire the population and trigger a significant cultural shift. This marked a clear turning point. This was now real and irreversible.
Nuku watched Isla’s expression; she was beaming with pride and the well-deserved hubris of someone who has achieved high ambition. Her chiton clearly suited her and she wore it with full authority, its colours shifting through a harmony of blues, purples and mauves. The way the others in the expeditionary team stood back in deference clearly marked her as their leader. It was remarkable that a preeb commanded such respect. There was much she wanted to say to Isla. Perhaps they would find time later in the night, after the festivities: find some quiet corner, touch and caress, and talk into the early hours. It was impossible now of course. They were at the mercy of the schedule and of a public eager to meet the new celebrities of Eden. She figured Isla would be especially popular because of her age, an inspiration to many precocious preebs with similar ambition. If she could command an expeditionary team at her age, so could they. It was an extraordinary thought – children exploring the stars.
Nuku saw the exuberant wave out of the corner of her eye and the crowd part to allow a group to make its way to the front. It was her younger sister Aloha followed by her father, birth mother and other members of her clan. She waved back, just a little because she didn’t want to distract the proceedings. She could see Aloha wanted to rush up onto the podium to hug her sister but she politely held back. Instead she turned sideways to display the bulge in her stomach and show off the growth in her breasts, completing the process by turning to display the beginnings of a traditional tattoo on her shoulders. A tear almost came to eye when she noticed her father beaming with pride. It was then the enormity of the occasion hit her. Somehow she had managed to push the significance of her circumstance into the background by focusing on the work at hand. She had not allowed herself to feel proud. Her father’s expression changed that. Of all the possible choices, she had been the one chosen to head a scientific mission to Earth. It was an enormous responsibility.
Finally the speeches ended and they were allowed to mingle with the crowd. She found her family but had difficulty getting in a word as admirers came forward to shake her hand and have photos taken. She tried to find Isla, Biyu and Prax but they seemed to have been swallowed by the crowd. Eventually things calmed and she and her family managed to find a relatively quiet spot in a little grove.
“So when are you going?” asked her father.
“There is no set date. I understand that things are being prepared on Earth. Apparently there has been no official response to the diplomatic letter of introduction.”
Aloha gestured for Nuku to make room for her in front so Nuku could wrap her arms around her and hold her pregnant belly. “A letter of introduction?”
“Apparently there is a strict protocol. We can’t just turn up. They have to know we are coming and formally invite us.”
“I wonder what they must think? I assume they have been told they are being visited by long lost cousins?” her mother asked.
Aloha held Nuku’s left hand and guided it to her left breast. “See how firm they have become sister?” Nuku gently massaged Aloha’s breasts and then went to return her hand to her stomach. Aloha stopped her. “Hold them, it feels good.” Her father and mother ignored the intimacy. They were used to it.
“I don’t have all the detail. I imagine most of it is happening discretely. I believe many Terrans have chosen to disbelieve the stories of other planets. It seems our existence threatens their worldview. Prax thinks there will be considerable political discussion going on within the government of the Northern States. There may be forces who oppose a diplomatic mission.”
“Just as there are forces here,” added her father. “I can’t say I’m entirely convinced. I worry we are moving too soon. Let us make Eden stronger first. Let us establish colonies on these new worlds, then let us see.”
“I am sure this has been fully debated father,” said Aloha dreamily, happy to be embraced by her now famous, big sister. “Perhaps the time for talk is over. Personally Earth fascinates me. Maybe Nuku will be able to visit our ancestral home. Perhaps we still have relatives there. Can you imagine visiting the village where our illustrious ancestor Tehani Kaluhiokalani was born? Where was it again?”
“The Kona coast, on Hawaii proper,” said her mother.<
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“We were of a noble clan, weren’t we?” asked Aloha.
“Those days are past. The clans no longer exist,” said Nuku, adjusting her weight because her leg was going to sleep under Aloha’s weight.
“Makes you wonder though,” said Aloha. “What it would like to be a queen or a princess… Maybe we could return and rule?”
Nuku stroked her hair. “This is a fantasy Aloha. We are returning to free the Terrans, not rule over them.”
“Perhaps they like their chains,” she said as she guided Nuku’s hand to her vulva for comfort (as they had often done as children).
Her father changed the subject to more trivial matters concerning family gossip. She stayed with them a further half-hour delighting in their comforting presence. When they finally left Aloha cried because she knew Nuku would not be present to help deliver her baby. She had a doubt then, perhaps it was too much a price to pay.
The great hall bustled with activity as invited guests mingled with politicians, bureaucrats and the higher ranks of the EDF. Drone cameras hovered overhead beaming the proceedings live to homes all over Eden. Prax was doing the honours of introducing Nuku and Biyu to his many political connections. Nuku seemed comfortable with all the polite talk but Biyu was a novice, unused to minding her words. She was at least relieved she had been allowed to revert to her standard officer’s sarong and was free of the restricting curaiss – although she had retained the manica and greave.
“Islaug Thorsson, may I introduce you to…”
“Yes, yes, glad to meet you. Who on Eden doesn’t know your names?”
“Islaug is the director of genetic therapy…”
Biyu took the woman’s hand and was immediately in awe. She was in her fifties: tall, lightly tanned, physically imposing, her hair a delicate white blond, a Celtic tattoo covering each shoulder.
“You are of direct matrilineal descent from Freja Thorsson, the Founder’s second wife?” asked Biyu, unsure of exact details of her ancestry.
“Yes, the Viking line as we call it. Freja had a daughter, the second born, Yrsa.”
Biyu nodded respectfully. “A noble line.”
The woman laughed. “But not quite as illustrious as yours, the descendent of the first born.”
Nuku cleared her throat. “How can one distinguish between the two of you, both of your maternal ancestors were Huxleys.”
Islaug conceded the point. “A diplomatic response. We are in good hands.”
They chatted amiably about the enormity of the task ahead. It would not be easy adjusting the Terran genome to match the Edenoi.
“We think it will take perhaps three generations,” said Islaug.
“And that would be, what, thirty to forty years?” asked Biyu naively.
Islaug smiled politely. Biyu detected condescension. “More like sixty to seventy. Terran females are psychologically immature. They might reach puberty around the same age as an Edenoi, but they are mentally and emotionally retarded and not capable of the required level of consent, especially consenting to an acceleration program. I highly suspect they will also have a number of cultural inhibitions. These will be the most difficult to change, as I am sure Prax and Nuku are well aware.”
Nuku nodded. “Yes, one of our most important tasks will be to assess cultural and ideational barriers. I believe many Terrans still practice monogamy.”
Islaug saw a wave from someone in the crowd. “Excuse me, that is someone for me. I apologise for the interruption. I am pleased to have met you.” She shook their hands firmly as a polite farewell and left them.
Prax spoke softly. “Islaug is one of the leaders of the Progressionist faction. The person who signalled her is another member of the faction, Sunil Goswami.”
Biyu shook her head. She was vaguely familiar with the political factions but wasn’t much interested in politics. “And this is important because?”
Nuku spoke carefully. “The Preservationists have gathered numbers. They are concerned about the rapid development in genomics…”
“They are opposed to any enhancement that radically changes the human form. They will use this event to lobby and build numbers,” added Prax. “I’d advise you stay neutral on these matters. Each of the factions would love to have anyone of us endorse their position. Especially the national champion.”
“And there is more than one faction?” Biyu asked annoyed that these had become matters that now concerned her.
“Yes, the Eden First faction – it opposes rapid colonisation on the grounds that we need to develop the other continents first. They are made up primarily of agriculturalists eager to exploit the flora and fauna of the uninhabited zones.”
Biyu frowned. “I at least know we don’t have a market economy and we don’t have a merchant class.”
Prax nodded slowly whilst he carefully contemplated his answer. “Theoretically, yes, but bringing a new delicacy or product to the citizens carries a certain prestige. We may have checks and balances but the tendencies still remain…”
“Which is why we have the checks…” added Nuku hoping to be helpful.
Biyu shot her a sharp look. “I’m not daft Nuks. I figured that bit.”
Nuku shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry, just trying to help.”
“And the other factions?”
“The Colonialist faction, who hope the same principle applies to these new worlds,” Prax added.
“Really, a sub-faction,” said Nuku. “Not that strong.”
“But I thought, given that we are going, that they would be strong?”
“This is where it gets complicated,” said Prax.
“Allegiances shift,” said Nuku.
“The Colonialist faction contains people opposed to the return…” Prax started to explain.
“Anti-returnists?”
“Yes, they want to leave Earth alone and keep any new worlds for Edenoi.”
Biyu nodded. “And I assume that these factions form alliances?”
“Yes, shifting alliances. At the moment the return faction is aligned with the Progressionists and they have the numbers.”
“But the closer we get, the more nervous some have become,” Nuku added.
“And how might this effect the mission?”
“It might cause us to be recalled,” said Prax.
“The most extreme have suggested Earth be quarantined,” said Nuku.
“And here comes one of the leaders of the Cautionist faction,” Prax warned as he saw the man heading directly for them. “Honest Onyango,” he said sotto voce.
“Direct patrilineal descendent of the fourth born, Valiant Sauveterre-Onyango,” said Nuku.
“Son of Anaïs, a Huxley… Am I mistaken, or are the descendants of the First somewhat overrepresented?”
Nuku tried to hide a laugh. “You tell me? Here I am standing next to a Zhang and a Smith. We are supposed to be equals but if we have a nobility, they are the direct descendants of the First, especially the Huxleys.”
Prax winced. It was an uncomfortable truth.
“Prax old friend,” said Honest as he extended his hand.
Biyu was getting restless. She had been patient and civil to dozens of eminent Edenoi but she needed a break. It was afforded by the appearance Ana, Prax’s daughter. It was the first time either she or Nuku had seen her in person and her resemblance to Prax was unsettling. They were of the same height, same facial features, same eyes, same hair colour. Biyu thought she looked stunning in a silver, translucent sarong and matching silver jewellery, both breasts sporting delicate silver nipple broaches. The emotional connection between them was immediately obvious. Prax’s eyes shone, despite him pretending an air of detachment. She made no attempt at decorum and kissed him directly on the mouth, directing his hand to touch her pregnant stomach. Only then did she turn to politely acknowledge Nuku and Biyu.
Biyu wasn’t offended. In fact she was attracted. Ana exuded the type of sexual swagger she found exciting and she could tell that Nuku was simi
larly stricken. She was yet to fuck Prax, unlike Nuku (who had shared her experience with her – not that it was unexpected), but if Prax had a fraction of Ana’s allure in his feminine side, then she might have to consummate their friendship sooner rather than later. Ana must have sensed the attraction because she began to openly flirt with both Biyu and Nuku - and it was working.
They walked to one of the buffet tables to sample the delicacies and quench their thirst with Eden’s finest wines. It was then that Nuku spotted Isla and waved her over. Isla almost skipped, only checking herself midway to attempt a more sophisticated approach. She fell into Nuku’s arms and gave her a passionate kiss. Introductions were made and there was an attempt to make polite conversation. Yet it was obvious that both Prax and Nuku wanted to be alone with their beaus and so Biyu politely suggested they could leave her to her own devices.
The moment she had been waiting for finally arrived: the entertainment. The master of ceremonies announced a special performance by the Academy dancers and she knew Zoe would be amongst them. She had been waiting patiently for this all day, knowing that Zoe was caught up in preparation and rehearsals. She pushed her way to the front. Her heart leapt as she saw Zoe run out with the graceful steps of a dancer. The lights dimmed and the orchestra played a specially commissioned piece, a symphonic variation on the kamboji raga. She swelled with pride as Zoe and the company gave an energetic performance designed to symbolically seek the protection of the goddess Kali. It contained everything. Mock martial contests, good triumphing over evil, love and stunning eroticism. She didn’t mind that Zoe was ravished by a masked demon with a fierce red penis. In fact it turned her on to watch the demon thrust into her and for her to fight him off and finally defeat him.
When it was over Zoe rushed to her immediately. She was dripping with sweat but Biyu didn’t mind. People applauded when Zoe leapt into her arms, wrapped her legs around her and kissed her passionately and deeply. She could have fucked her then and there but Zoe dragged her into alcove. Zoe was on fire and demanded release. Biyu obliged as the music began to swell and the master of ceremonies announced the president’s choice, the beginning of the social dances. African drums beat out as Zoe tore off Biyu’s sarong. The hall thudded with the stomping of feet and echoed with ululations as the president lead the participants in a traditional, tribal dance.
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