After the general selection process he was introduced to the cohort commanders. This was much more important as these five would lead the cohorts allocated to the five individual vessels that formed together to make the one delta wing spacecraft. They needed to perform Rakul’s orders flawlessly as individual units if the delta wing separated into its five constituent craft. The first commander was a grizzled hulk of a man with impressive cranial scarring that testified to his combat experience. The second was a striking young woman with plaited russet hair swept back over shaved temples. She was taller than the first man and lithe where he was heavily muscled. Rakul passed on to the remaining three, all impressive individuals in the peak time of their careers. Rakul took arak with these five commanders, the Wazir and the prefect, while he queried their experience. He invited them to tell their career in war stories, noting their interaction with one another, extrapolating how they would function together on the mission to planet Earth. When he was satisfied he dismissed the commanders and prefect and allowed the Wazir to escort him to the bathhouse where a feast was laid on in his honour.
Rakul doffed his clothing with a servant at the cloakroom and dressed simply in a clean white robe. He was hungry from the exertions of the day and ate eagerly with the free appetite of the young man he indeed was. It was good to feel the pleasures of a young healthy body again and he indulged his appetite heartily. When he was replete he was escorted to a large circular room with a pillared colonnade. Around sunken pool in the centre nearly filled the floor of the room. The waters in the pool were copper blue and steaming, emerging from the hot spring below at close to boiling point from the volcanic spring over which the bathhouse was constructed. Nobody was in the pool as yet; Rakul knew this to be his honour. He removed his robe and passed it to a waiting servant who took it away. Rakul stepped down into the scalding water to see his legs flare red against the heat. He ignored the pain and continued down the slope until he was up to his neck. The heat was overpowering to begin with but faded surprisingly quickly as he became accustomed to it and his protesting nerve ends calmed. He scanned the walls and saw twelve life-size murals set in the positions of a clock face. He recognised an image of himself in each mural, naked and with a remarkable-sized phallus engaged in a variety of coital acts with one or more lovers. He was familiar with his reputation as a god of earthly passions and he was amused that the bathhouse welcomed its revellers to these images of his amorous adventures.
A group of very attractive young women entered the room from arched doorways in the colonnade as he steamed and revolved to consider each of the carnal acts on the walls. They giggled and doffed their robes to servants before joining him in the pool. They approached him cautiously, prettily pink of face above the waterline, mysteriously hot and naked below the surface. They watched the direction of his gaze and it became clear they intended to perform whichever act was attracting his attention on the murals. Different women approached him depending on the image of the woman in the scene he was regarding. He continued to look around the walls and settled on an image of two red-haired nubiles standing in front and behind him. As he did so a woman with flowing red tresses, wet and clinging over her breast, approached him smiling from the front and straddled his phallus with a slippery crotch. Simultaneously a second woman closed with him from behind, reaching round to grasp him and move him against the thighs of the first. Rakul half turned to see russet dreadlocks over shaved temples and recognised the cohort commander Ivanka Makhtarian who he had met so recently. He was considering what remark to make when a large mixed group entered the bathhouse, disrobed and splashed noisily into the pool. Rakul was glad for the distraction so that he could relax into the gentle ministrations of the two women as the general chatter of the room increased and they all applied themselves to emulating the murals in Rakul’s honour.
FIVE
It was Christopher’s birthday. Charlotte had invited him out for a special treat to the Cambridge Chop House on the corner of Bene’t Street and King’s Parade. Evening light was lengthening through late spring and they had walked from Queens’ College Old Porters’ Lodge through the narrow alley of King’s Lane with a strip of mellow sky still touched in blue overhead between the tall buildings. The subdued lights of the back streets were already on as they broke free of the alley and crossed the main thoroughfare where Trumpington Street became King’s Parade in a plethora of antique lights and the illuminated facade of King’s College, the famous chapel that was set back from the parade, implausibly high and imposing for a single college chapel.
Christopher was excited. Not so much for his birthday, more because he still did not manage much private time with Charlotte, though he now considered they were more than friends, still less than a couple. Charlotte was feeling warmer than her spring coat really should have caused; she was aware her cheeks were flushed and her spirits high. They entered the restaurant and were impressed by the spread of glass framed in black painted iron, the interior spotlights and candles matching the relaxed ambience of the street outside. The maitre d’ escorted them to a quiet corner table next to a large picture of King’s College chapel taken from the other side of the river. They gratefully shed their coats and scarves into his custody, too hot to wear them now in the warm interior. Charlotte was wearing close-fitted jeans as usual set off by a black soft knit wool top with matching sequins that sparkled alluringly across her bust. She had gently curled her blonde hair so that it hung in two loose coils atop her breasts as she took her seat. The contrast of her very blonde hair and glittering black top was enhanced by striking red lipstick and tasteful eye make-up. Christopher was impressed into silence on the subject of Charlotte’s appearance.
Charlotte noticed Christopher was broadening across the shoulders as he took his seat. He had been rising early mornings to train in the rowing team and that regular exercise was bulking up his chest and upper arms. His dark hair was grown a little longer than she liked; it tended to look lank if he left it, though she admitted it had a certain louche charm, akin to a young Bryan Ferry.
“So how does it feel to be twenty years old, Chris?” Charlotte enquired cheekily.
“Like it’s quite old actually,” he replied, feigning affront. “Joe French was twenty-one last week and he locked himself in his room and got drunk all day he was so upset. At least I am not twenty-one and over the hill already!” They both laughed and then Christopher had a quiet moment as he thought that Charlotte was not yet twenty years old in her latest earthly body, though he now knew that her Gayan soul was many generations old and therefore her entire persona was much more experienced than himself. He found it disquieting when this line of thought came to him, unsure how to communicate with her. Charlotte could feel this uncertainty in him; she was familiar with her mature soul allied to the fizzing exuberance of her youthful body in her physical prime in a way that he was not. They were in a quiet corner, not overlooked, so Charlotte considered this a good opportunity for a proper chat.
First things first; they studied the menus. Cambridge Chop House was good for substantial meals that fitted well with their youthful appetites. The prices were reasonable, but Charlotte was on student’s budget so it was a special treat. Christopher was most appreciative and suggested the haggis fritters as a fun starter with steak to follow. Charlotte chose the ox cheeks as mains. Christopher ordered a real ale for himself and a gin and tonic for Charlotte when he was presented with the wine list. He handed it to Charlotte after the waiter left, thinking she would understand it better than him, reinforcing her relative authority. Charlotte chose a Cabernet–Merlot blend from the Languedoc-Roussillon region, “I always think the blends are better value and smoother for the price than a single grape wine, and more of a chance for the winemaker to express themselves,” she said. It sounded plausible to Christopher. They tucked into the haggis fritters and warmed to their aperitifs.
A little while later the restaurant had filled with a background buzz of o
ther diners arriving and their waiter had cleared their starter plates. Charlotte was sitting facing out of the corner and could see nobody was paying them close attention; Christopher was looking appreciatively only at Charlotte. She reached across the table with her right hand and took his hand in hers. “You really don’t have to worry about how my past affects us, Chris. You have your prior lives, too, you just don’t remember them. Unless maybe in your dreams. We Gayans don’t have any memories of past lives either until we reach adolescence and soulmorphosis kicks in; before that we are ‘jejeune’ and have no recollections, just like you. The body and the soul have to grow together until maturity and then all our prior memories come rushing in and we remember our past, all our old training and skills. But our bodies mature just the same as yours, our souls live in our bodies just the same.”
“It is still hard to take it all in even though I have tried to get used to the idea,” Christopher said. “It just makes you and me different so I don’t like the thought of it.”
Charlotte tried to find a way to bridge the gap between them, “Bear with me Chris and let’s play a little game. Try to think about the first thing you can remember. When did you register your first memory?”
“That would be our first day at school. I remember you and Joe looking so cool together and the rest of us being so upset.”
“Try and cast your mind back before that, do you have any memories before school?”
“Now you mention it, I do remember Mum being really upset one day. Something went wrong with the washing machine and she sat there on the kitchen floor with the washer door open, clothes and water everywhere and she burst into tears. I remember trying to tell her not to be upset, it would be all right, but she wouldn’t stop weeping.”
“Those kind of early memories are often caused by a trauma, Chris, something a young child needs to learn from if it’s going to prevent it happening again. Like a food phobia starting if you eat something and get sick, it’s protective. It is hard to remember ordinary things in your life before you go to school. That’s because it’s a full-time job for the soul to grow together with the mind and body at that early stage. Just think how hard it must be to coordinate enough for an infant to start walking. How complicated it would be if you had to think consciously about how to walk if you hadn’t learned it in a formative stage! It’s also a good explanation of why you go to school at about four years old – that’s when you should be developed and ready to start reading and writing.”
Charlotte paused for a forkful of food and then continued, “So if that’s your first memory then when do you remember thinking as an adult, rather than a child?”
Christopher thought a moment and said, “I would guess about eleven years old, about when we moved to senior school. I have felt as I do now since about then.”
“That is when you would have started to form your adult awareness but a lot gets layered on. You get tempered through adolescence, hormones kick in, you finish the bonding between your soul and its new body and you have your adult awareness, the complete integrated person you are as an adult. The only difference between us Gayans and you earthly humans is that at that stage we also get recall of all our past lives. It starts like recalling a dream that is in fact your immediately previous life and then more and more lifetimes come rushing in, the walls come down between lives and all your past experience comes crashing back in. It is a wonderful experience; a revelation.”
Christopher was quiet a moment before voicing his biggest concern. “But you must have had so many relationships down the generations. That must be weird – and a bit sad maybe to lose so many old friends from one life to the next,” Christopher mused.
“Yes, and no at the same time,” Charlotte replied. “The same thing is happening to your friends as it is to you. You get to cascade your lives together down the generations.”
“And don’t you get weary, life after life, all that time!”
Charlotte laughed, “It’s much better than just one short life, time forever before, unending after! I would also say you should not underestimate the power of feelings of your new physical body. That is a major force driving the success of the human races across the heavens. There may be thousands of different cultures but the strength of youthful love ensures the success of the species wherever life permits. On top of that the surviving soul means that relationships can continue down the generations if that is how it is meant to be. Life may seem long to you on your twentieth birthday but I can tell you it is too short; the body wilts and fades and your life is too precious to waste on just a handful or so decades in a single lifespan.”
“So eventually when I die then I will pass on to new life, but I won’t know about it and it will be like starting all over again?”
“That has been the case for most people on Earth up to now,” Charlotte replied. “A big part of Enlightenment that we will teach you is how to handle this essential knowledge of how life really works. That is what we are bringing to Earth with all the other understanding you need to make the leap from your single planet out to the stars. It’s a magical change and a huge one too. Once the genie is out of the bottle then it’s not possible to put it back.”
“And these Spargar enemies of yours will screw it all up if they get their way?”
“They are enemies, but also they are only another human race. We fundamentally disagree with their culture. Their dictator, Omeyn MuneMei, refuses to accept the continuity of the soul. She just regenerates herself as many times as are needed to rule the whole of the Spargan Empire and she is the only being that is allowed to clone in their culture. That keeps her in complete control. That’s not to say the people of Spargar are unhappy all the time. I have lived on Braganza and life there runs smoothly, just without the freedom you have here on Earth and without the knowledge we have on Gaya.”
Christopher was looking so earnestly at her that Charlotte laughed, “Look at you, Chris, so serious on your birthday. We will have to change all that the rest of the night. Here come the main courses.”
The waiter placed their dishes down and opened the wine, pouring for Christopher to taste. He swirled the wine and sniffed, proclaiming it to be fine. The waiter nodded in affirmation and poured to the bulge in the glass, rather less than Christopher would have poured but the lesser amount looked more sophisticated, he noted to himself. The wine was a Goldilocks temperature, neither warm nor cool, and reminded Christopher of red berries. “Very nice,” he said, “good choice.” It was Charlotte’s turn to nod earnestly, eyes twinkling up at Christopher.
The rest of the evening was lost to everyday conversation, lubricated by the wine. Soon it was time to don their coats and return to college. Charlotte held Christopher’s arm tightly as they turned into the narrow alley of King’s Passage. Christopher’s attention was all on his elbow, which was pressed into the pliant swelling of Charlotte’s coat as she pulled close to him. His head was swimming pleasantly in the heady mix of his affection, the close press of her bosom and the alcohol over dinner. “This is my best birthday ever!” he declared.
“And it’s not over yet, is it?” Charlotte breathed up into his ear. “I think Joe is away at the moment.” Joe and Christopher were sharing rooms in their second year, essential to make college accommodation fit the student load, but a serious inconvenience to the love lives of the second years. “I am hoping you are going to invite me back tonight, if you want to, of course?”
Christopher was spurred to blurt out his burning question in the intimacy of the quiet, dark alley and their closeness, still aware though that it could spoil the moment. “How does physical love fit in with all these regenerations in your life? What does it mean for you and me?”
Charlotte grinned into the dimly lit space ahead, “Oh, sex, you mean? That’s easy!”
Easy! Christopher thought. It had been a somewhat nerve-wracking, if intriguing, notion to him previously; certainly not e
asy.
“Yes, when you have two fully aware people in love then sex is the most natural thing in the universe.”
“It is?”
“Yes, of course it is, silly. What else makes all those worlds up there so full of people?”
Christopher silently concurred with this happy notion, politely and fervently hoping it to be true as Charlotte happily nestled even closer and laid her head into his shoulder as they walked the rest of the way home tightly pressed together.
*
The following morning Christopher and Charlotte arrived together, slightly sheepish, at Professor Kitteridge’s room at St John’s College for a scheduled supervision. Professor Kitteridge called them in and he noted a growing intimacy in the couple as they filed in and set about preparing coffee for themselves and tea for him in their normal pre-meeting ceremony. This was to be a landmark supervision, however, later to be recorded as the actual moment when Earth’s human race made the critical insight into achieving contact with an alien race.
“Are we agreed that this is the time to send the message then?” Professor Kitteridge made the enquiry, looking at Charlotte more than Christopher.
“The message must be sent soon, Professor, now would be as good a time as any. Are you both comfortable with the plan? We won’t be able to go back once the process starts.”
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