by David Winnie
“I was in hospital for a week and in bed at home for many more. They never caught who did this shameful thing to me. The doctors said I could have a happy, normal life, except,” she looked Angkor in the eye, “I can never have children. I still ovulate, but the woman parts in me will not allow me to have children. I am sorry, Angkor. You must hate me now.”
He knelt and took her hands. “This was done to you,” he said, “not by you. Amongst my people, nay, our people, you would have been taken to temple and cared for. Your attackers would have been found and your family would have decided the punishment. In cases like this, the punishment is usually quite severe.”
Angkor was almost through talking. Pulling Sophia to her feet, he announced, “We will find lodging in the city tonight and in the morning, we will go to city hall and perform the Prajapatya.”
Sophia’s mother shot her daughter a glance. A barbarian, she thought. How does a barbarian know of our laws? “Ham!” she called, “The boy is still here.”
“I have studied your laws,” Angkor told them. “That is why I asked for your blessings rather than your permission. I wish you had given your blessing, sir and performed the Vivaha wedding. My wife would have appreciated and revered you forever for that. But if you chose to deny Sophia your blessing, then you can go your way. We will go ours. You cannot stop us from getting a civil wedding.”
Hand in hand, their future before them, they left the house.
Chapter 8
October 3043
Of all the vistas on Ganymede Station, the view from the window above Angkor’s lab station was his favorite. He could straighten in his chair, tip his head up just a few inches and the magnificent maelstrom that was Jupiter was right there. The polar orbit of the station and the lack of rotation meant he would have the unobstructed view throughout his work day.
Brilliant colors, ranging from pale yellow to vibrant pinks and orange raced in never- ending swirls and rivers of gas. Unfiltered, he could see cloud formations hundreds of miles down into the gaseous giant. Lightning bolts ten thousand miles long would arc, leap and twist as the atmosphere, forever in chaos. They writhed and roared past the scientist’s slacked-jawed awe.
He would admire the chaos outside his window, then focus on the organized world of cellular biology. Ganymede station was the leading research station in the Earth Union. Angkor counted himself fortunate to be working here.
A tap on his door caused Angkor to check his chrono. He beamed and called out, “Enter, my love.” The greatest blessing of his life was there to have lunch with him.
Sofia floated in, bearing the tray with the containers of their lunch. She wore a jumpsuit of green, eschewing her sari (to his chagrin) because of the low gravity. They embraced and kissed as she set the tray on his work station.
She looked to the window and commented, “The god appears angry today.”
“Eh?” he asked.
Sofia pointed. A sustained bolt of lightning, thirty thousand miles long, writhed as a serpent under and through the clouds. He admired the show, idly wondering if the combination of chemicals in the clouds contained any aminos, jolted into life by the epic charge, living their lives in the upper reaches of the gas giant.
It was possible. Collector drones had dropped into the upper atmosphere and returned with samples that qualified as life, albeit barely. It was clear, though, that the lightning was far too deep in the atmosphere to collect a sample.
Pity.
Having Sophia on the station was a godsend for Angkor and a delight to the scientists. She had struggled at first with the micro-gravity. But she adapted. While having no formal job on the station, she determined no job to be beneath her or too small for her attention. Her cooking skills, tempered on the streets of Delhi, turned the ordinary, plain algae foodstuffs into exotic, savory meals. Small bits of color began to appear throughout the station, whether a painted surface that suddenly appeared and was just right, to bits of art or a knick-knack in just the aesthetically perfect place.
She was never seen without her little bottle of cleaner and rag, always erasing a smudge here or a spill there (something very difficult to do in micro-gravity, but still it happened). Always with her genuine smile, twinkling blue eyes and soft voice: “I am pleased to serve, Sahib.”
They had agreed early on their assignment where the floor was in Angkor’s lab. She arranged the containers of their lunch (curried protein and rice, a favorite). They tapped tea filled bulbs and began to eat. Angkor looked out the window irritably as a shadow passed by the window, cutting off the glow of Jupiter for too long.
The shuttle sat right there, outside his window. “Go away,” he growled at it. “I am dining with my wife.” He shook a futile fist at the window.
Sophia covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. It was indicative of a trait he found most attractive about her. While she wasn’t shy or withdrawn, she displayed modesty and humility. When they arrived on Ganymede, for instance, the toilets were all unisex. Sophia quietly designated individual units for all three sexes. While there was some grumbling, everyone followed the change by the quiet Hindi woman with no questions.
The shuttle moved away. Their meal was quiet. In ten years of marriage Sophia had learned that Angkor would still be thinking about work during lunch. She had little understanding of genetics or DNA, so she would sit quietly with her husband during lunch, enjoying his company and basking in his adoration.
“Attention on the station,” came the call over the tannoy. “Doctor Angkor, you have a visitor in the Administration module.”
Angkor shrugged at his wife’s questioning look. “I shall know when I get to Administration. I’m sure it’s nothing,” he assured her. Earth was over two hundred million miles away.
He floated over the table and kissed Sophia while hovering above her. “You’ve outdone yourself again, my love,” he cooed. “I will see you later in our quarters.” He swam through the door as she began to clean up their meal and straighten up his lab.
Ganymede Station was nearly five square miles of modules in a variety of sizes. To the casual observer, it appeared a haphazard starburst of oblong pods, cubes, globes and pyramids. The largest cube was on the “top” of the station on a half mile rail by itself. This was the plutonium reactor, a remnant of Earth’s weapons technology. On the far end of the station was the docking station for supply ships and shuttles. The Administration area sat atop the docking module, a windowed blister on the spider-shaped docking port.
Most of the station was in micro gravity, like Angkor’s lab. Here and there were areas that had up to .9 g, created by spinning arms or rotating wheels. Angkor avoided these areas; it was quicker to swim around these areas than to transit through.
He closed the hatch into the Admin pod behind him. Sergeant Betty Hodges, Earth Defense Forces, sat at the reception desk. “Hey, Ang,” she greeted him, “in the main conference room.” She pointed a stylus over her shoulder.
Ryder Finn sat at the table, hands folded on the synthetic wood. He was restrained to the chair by thigh clamps. Angkor sat, clamped the restraint and placed his hands on the table. “I greet you, Doctor Angkor, son of Tenzing, chairman of the Earth Council,” the blue skinned humanoid said in his clipped accent.
“I greet you, Ryder Finn of Mithranderar, friend and advisor to my father,” responded Angkor. Then he hesitated. What would bring his father’s closest friend and advisor all the way out here? “I trust my father is well?”
“Very well, yes,” answered Ryder. “Your wife? She has adjusted to this place, yes?”
Angkor nodded.
Ryder pulled a small box from his pocket. He set it on the table between them and pressed the top. “Your Sergeant Hodges is one of my agents,” he said.” We will not be disturbed or recorded.”
They sat for several awkward moments. Finally, Ryder said, “I suppose you are curious about my visit here. Your father sent me. His plans have come to fruition. You recall your last face to face con
versation with him, yes? You conceded that a monarchy would best serve Earth and mankind best. The Council has decided; your father will be named the Monarch of Earth in three months.
There are two immediate issues at hand. You and your brother. The Council agreed to a hierarchal passing of the leadership at the death of the king. By tradition, this would currently be Suishin. He is unsuitable at best. Your father has enemies who will kill him, convinced they can control your brother. They have already infiltrated Suishin’s inner circle, with drugs and sexual perversions.” Ryder spat the last statement as though he was trying to rid his mouth of a foul taste.
“What do you want of me?” queried Angkor. “I have no interest in politics. I have all I could want here - my wife, my job, my research.”
“There is more to the universe than your test tubes and beakers,” Ryder shot back. “I speak of the greater good.”
“I am fulfilling my contribution here to the greater good,” argued the scientist, “and any question of me succeeding my father is a moot point anyway. Suishin is the elder; it falls to him to replace my father.”
“By tradition, yes,” Ryder said. “But we are in a new age, Angkor. The old ways must be swept aside for the new order. If the best available heir to your father is your brother, then the factions allied against your father could sweep in and fill the vacuum your brother is sure to create. There would be resistance, civil war. Right now, your species could not survive a civil war.”
“So, your implication is that I am some kind of a savior?” asked Angkor.
Ryder steepled his fingers and stared at Angkor for a long minute. “What I am saying is your father and I have been making plans since before you were born. We are approaching a point that will either create the great dream Tenzing and I have fostered for over forty years, or Earth will fracture again and forces you cannot imagine will ensure the extinction of your species.
“Your father has taken the dream nearly as far as he can, although he doesn’t understand this yet. What you decide will determine if our dream succeeds or fails.”
“I have everything I want here,” repeated Angkor. “My wife, my job, my friends. Can’t you find someone else be your savior? Perhaps you can turn Suishin, make him this leader you desire.”
“There is no time,” Ryder clasped his hands together. “Suishin is lost; his passing will be regrettable. You must replace your father. You will found the line that will lead your people across the cosmos, provided you build on the foundation your father will leave for you.
“You will be a legend.”
“I do not want to be a legend,” Angkor stressed. “I am a scientist. I am a husband. I am a scholar. That is all I want, that is all I will be.”
“Yes, you are all those things. And more.” Ryder answered. “And legends rarely want to be legendary. Indeed, when your story is told in the future, you will scarcely resemble it save for your name and perhaps your appearance.
Your Empire, though. Your Empire will last for more than ten thousand years and bring order and prosperity for all your citizens…and subjects.”
Ryder Finn released his leg restraints and drifted upwards. “The next shuttle will be here in seven days. When it departs, you must be on it. Bring your wife or leave her behind; she will be but a footnote in all of this anyway. Seven days, Angkor.”
“I have a mission to collect samples on Enceladus,” argued Angkor. “I will not be here in seven days.”
“Seven days,” stated Ryder, “Your friends can go to Saturn for their samples. I need you on Earth in two weeks.”
“I must speak with my wife...” began Angkor.
“Bring her or leave her. Seven days.” Ryder floated out of the room.
The shuttle sped silently away from Ganymede Station. It disappeared behind the moon for several minutes before appearing on the far side of Ganymede, a sparkling snow flake drifting across the angry face of Jupiter.
Sophia stood at his side, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. She had said little when Angkor told her of Ryder Finn’s visit, except, “Wherever you go, Husband, I shall be there beside you.”
“But I don’t want to go,” he wept. “I have all I want here.”
“The gods have determined you have a higher calling,” she countered as she brushed an errant lock of his hair off his face. “Who are you to question the will of the universe?”
They had discussed Sophia returning to Earth with him. Angkor talked with the station manager and arranged for her to stay on Ganymede Station indefinitely. “It will be safer for you,” Angkor had argued. “I don’t know what I am getting into and I don’t want you to walk into a trap with me.”
“My place is by your side,” she said in her calmest manner. “Where you go, I shall be there beside you.”
“There will be great danger,” he pleaded. “I want you to be safe.”
“There is no safer place for me than by your side, Husband,” was her answer. “I will not leave you to the dangers of the world. I will be by your side, every step of the way. Now, enough, it is time for bed. Put out the light.”
But where am I taking you to, my love? He pondered, how can I keep you safe if I don’t know where am I going?
The week had passed quickly enough. They hadn’t accumulated much in their ten years of marriage and what little that had collected was packed away in a few boxes. Angkor’s research was dispersed amongst the other scientists. On the morning of the departure, he sat in his silent lab for hours, watching Jupiter through his window.
She drifted in through the door in the last hour. The shuttle had gravity, so today she was wearing the fuchsia sari she knew he loved. She settled onto his lap, his arms instinctively wrapping around her.
They watched the boiling of the clouds, stirred by winds hundreds of miles an hour or more. Fanciful lighting arced and danced. The tumult reflected the turmoil Angkor felt, his own thoughts churning and racing. Yet, on his lap reposed the calming center that of his world. He nuzzled Sophia’s neck she purred appreciatively and wriggled against him.
“Doctor Angkor, Sophia Marshall,” the call came over the tannoy, “Your shuttle is prepared for departure.”
She raised her arms and rotated, her body pressed against her husband. “It is time, my love,” she said, kissing him.
“It occurs to me,” he whispered, “This is the one place I have been closest to you on the whole of this station and it is the one place where we never made love.”
They giggled. “Well, there is no time for that now,” Sophia said with regret. She winked and tipped her head. “But I am sure we can find somewhere on the shuttle.”
Angkor’s heart tugged and stretched to the station as it faded from his view. His vocation, his dream, his perceived life’s work grew dimmer and dimmer until it faded from view entirely, swallowed by the angry god.
Chapter 9
December 3043
They settled near the Occident city of Seattle.
Ryder Finn, of course, was furious. “I did not bring you back from across the solar system to settle on the other side of the world!” he said, his clipped accent tinged with anger. “How can you fulfill your duties to your father if you are half a world away!”
They had started in Zurich, the traditional capital of the Earth Government since the collapse of the old United States some six hundred standard years before. The region was nice enough, the couple agreed. But the weather was harsh to Sophia; she disliked the cold in the winter.
Angkor found he missed the peace and quiet he had enjoyed both in temple and Ganymede station, so Sophia had explored the various provinces of Earth. She had a sister who had long since moved to Cascadia and often told Sophia of the seemingly magic area. Cascadia had avoided much of the strife during the North American collapse of the twenty-third century. It had risen slowly as the old countries collapsed and new countries formed. It was the largest of the Occident Free states, stretching along the mountain range from which it drew its name, fr
om Prince Rupert in the old northwest territories to Port Orford along its southern coast.
Sophia had found their home in a tiny community called Indianola, just west of the city. A tiny cabin, it was nestled in tall firs, looking toward the city across the Puget Sound. She and Angkor could sit on their deck and watch the wildlife scurry across their tiny, rocky beach or enjoy secluded walks in their green, misty forest.
“It is a ten-minute journey via air car to Boeing Field,” Angkor argued. “A three-hour flight to either Zurich or my father’s Keep. This is my choice, Ryder. Mine and Sophia’s. Or are the words in the new order’s laws about free choice only words?”
“As long as you are fulfilling your duties,” Ryder had finally conceded.
Angkor was rarely in Zurich, anyway. Much of his time was spent traveling across the fifteen worlds of the Terran Union. He would bring Sophia along during the missions outside the Sol system. The couple thrilled to visit the exoplanets. From the vast, rich forests of Vespa to the ocean world of Mer, they delighted in exploring of the cultures of the colonists and the natives of the burgeoning Terran Union.
“I could have never imagined such a life,” Sophia told Angkor one evening as they cuddled in their favorite chaise at home in Indianola. “Had I known the sights I would see, the adventures we would have together,” her voice trailed off. Then, impishly, she said, “The little tea girl would not have wandered off so quickly that first day. Of course, my wiles seemed to have worked on you, Husband.”
They had discussed children. Angkor had extracted eggs from his wife and examined them at the university in Seattle. Combined with his sperm, he could see no reason he and Sophia could not have children, using a surrogate.
When he broached the idea to his wife, Sophia grew silent. She listened to his argument, then responded, “Yes, Angkor, we could do all these things. I want nothing more than to bear you a child. But, I can’t, I can’t do this. I…” she rushed from the room holding back her tears and slammed the door to their room. His heart ached with every choked sob he heard behind their bedroom door. In the morning, she unlocked the door and hurried for their tiny bathroom to wash her face. She was silent and withdrawn for a week. Bit by bit, she came out of her mood. But the sorrow seemed to hover in their home, just out of reach.