Survive

by Vera Nazarian

  Dad rubs his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and watches us, deep in thought. I see his glance slip occasionally toward the corner of the room, where on top of a side table Mom’s urn stands.

  He’s thinking of her, even now. . . .

  I finally go to bed around thirteenth hour, alone, without Aeson—after returning to the Crown Prince’s side of the Quarters the roundabout way, bypassing the busy workroom that has become an SPC command station.

  Aeson never comes, so I fall asleep feeling strange and awkward without him in the huge bed of the master suite. It never occurs to me to move to my own bedroom with the four-point star window, because I know if Aeson returns he will be looking for me in this bed—our marriage bed.

  However, in the morning of Red Amrevet 12, I wake up alone once again, and it doesn’t appear that Aeson has been to bed at all.

  He hasn’t slept last night. He likely hasn’t eaten.

  My heart constricts with painful recall of the previous day. The loss of hundreds, possibly thousands of people on that station and battle barge, sickens me. . . . It must weigh on him to an extent I cannot even imagine. And the awful thing is, he cannot even slow down to contemplate or feel, because he has to continue to act the Commander, handling the crisis, and his role is ongoing.

  I feel like I shouldn’t try to disturb him, so I use my wrist unit to send him a simple message.

  I love you so much, Aeson. Thinking of you. I’m here, if you need me.

  —Your Gwen

  Right now, there is little else I can do or say.

  I go the roundabout way to my side of the Quarters and join my family for eos bread. It’s after seventh hour, and Dad and George are already eating. The TV screen is hovering before them, sound muted, showing multiple feeds. But Gracie and Gordie are not here. Gordie cannot miss any more work, and Gracie is on Fleet standby back in her apartment downtown.

  However, I’m a little surprised to see Manala, perched on the sofa, with a big plate of food in her lap. She looks serious but not listless as she has been these past few days without Khemji.

  Dad is sitting in his chair, while George is standing with his back to us, filling his plate from the serving station. When he turns around, I see that his spray bandages have been freshly reapplied in some places on his jaw and cheeks, but he does look better.

  “Morning,” I say, followed by “Nefero eos” for Manala’s benefit.

  “Any news, my dear?” Dad asks me at once.

  I shake my head.

  “Aeson?” Dad’s expression is meaningful.

  “He hasn’t been back since yesterday.” I say softly. “He must be completely overwhelmed with command, and I am so worried for him. I—I don’t know what to do—to help.”

  “I think he would want you to keep your strength up, above all,” Dad says, beckoning me with his hand. “Start by having a good breakfast—eos bread.”

  I approach and lean down for a kiss, as Dad pats my cheek and the top of my head. “How are you feeling these days, Dad?” I ask, staying down to hug my father before straightening.

  “Very well, and no complaints so far,” Dad says. “I think I might be getting used to this excessive gravity, and I can see George is already acclimated.”

  “Except for the sleepiness, I guess,” George says, carrying his plate to the sofa, and then yawns, as if to prove his point.

  Manala, who is sitting on the sofa, scoots over slightly to make room for him, even though there is space enough for two more people between them. George glances briefly at her, and then begins to eat.

  “Manala, how is Khemji doing?” I ask.

  “Oh! He is wonderful!” At once Manala’s expression shines with joy. “I fed him as soon as I woke up and he ate very well, and then let me touch him and brush him, and was not scared at all! I think he forgot all about being gone.”

  I smile at her. “Of course, he did. He is home and happy to be with you.”

  Manala glances from me to George then my Dad. “I am so glad he is safe. Thank you—to all of you. For helping me when I was—so lost without him. Thank you—George.” And Manala turns her face to look directly at my brother with an intense expression.

  George swallows and pauses eating, then slowly looks up, raising his brows. He appears slightly uncomfortable. It’s a rare thing to see my brother this way, off his game and uncertain, even for a moment. “Oh . . . yeah,” he responds after a tiny pause. “No problem.”

  I watch George and bite my lip. Dad watches also, probably not quite sure what’s happening, unless George explained things when they were alone. Although Dad was present when Aeson and George had the Manala mini-talk yesterday, the Septu Station disaster pushed everything else from our minds.

  Another awkward moment goes by.

  Then George breathes in deeply and says, while continuing to look at her weirdly, “About what happened yesterday—M’nala, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those rough things. I acted like a jerk. Was really unfair to you when you were so upset. So—anyway, glad it’s over and you got the cat back.”

  “I’m very sorry that you got hurt,” Manala says, examining George’s face closely for the first time.

  George makes a short sound implying his lack of care and glances at his plate.

  “We have a fine saying on Earth: all’s well that ends well,” Dad says in a mild tone, looking from George to Manala and then at me, and ending on a smile.

  “True . . . very true,” I say, keeping up my own smile for everyone’s sake. At the same time, I can’t help thinking about Aeson and all the things that must be going wrong at the moment and not ending well at all for so many innocent people.

  It also occurs to me that although Manala has some idea that Aeson is dealing with a crisis, she probably doesn’t know what happened at Septu Station, since the news has not reported it yet and none of us really got into it in front of her.

  For now, it’s best to keep it this way.

  I go to pour myself a fresh mug of lvikao and put something on my plate, all the while glancing sideways at my wrist comm in hope of an incoming message from my husband. Then I sit down on the sofa and pretend to eat. I also fiddle constantly with a small item in my pocket which I’ve resorted to carrying around with me everywhere since the day after the Wedding.

  The item is Aeson’s love gift to me—an odd-shaped, antique key of old unpolished metal, about three inches long, with a four-point star on one end. To be exact, it’s a hollow outline of a star—serving as the head of the key—and a shaft with an intricate pattern of notches, key wards and bits at the other end. I didn’t think I’d be so attached to it, but recently discovered that I am—especially now.

  Right now, the thing seems to be doing its job, serving as a surrogate for Aeson, and giving me something to cling to—no matter how ridiculous.

  Indeed, it’s working so well that I’ve set my plate down completely, and taken the key out of my pocket to turn it over in my fingers, flipping it this way and that, feeling the rough bumps along the metal surface.

  Manala notices the constant movement of my fingers. “What is that?” she asks, staring in curiosity.

  “Oh—it’s Aeson’s love gift,” I say. “Something to occupy my fingers.”

  “May I see it?”

  “Of course.” I lean over and hand Manala the key.

  “I know this key, it’s so old!” the Princess exclaims with a laugh. “I didn’t realize my brother gave you this old thing for his meaningful gift.”

  I chuckle. “Yes, well, that’s your brother for you. I still say I expected a digital key card. In some ways—I suppose, you might say I got it. . . . At least this one is decorative.”

  Manala turns the key over in her slim fingers while Dad and George watch us both with amusement.

  “I like how it’s very intricate on the blade end; makes such a pretty pattern that looks like a maze,” I say. “And the cutaway star is beautiful.”

  “The star?” Manala glances
up at me. “That’s just an astroctadra, a very old shape used in traditional art and on all kinds of antique items.”

  “Fascinating,” Dad says. “May I take a look? You say it’s a traditional design element?”

  “Oh, yes, it’s found everywhere.” Manala gets up and takes the key over to my Dad. “Very common.”

  “What does it mean?” After adjusting his spectacles, Charles Lark, my father, holds the key in his hands and examines it closely.

  Manala pauses to think then shakes her head. “I don’t know. It’s just an antiquated star. Our traditional crafts makers included it in all kinds of objects—such as this key. There are silly trinkets and jewelry pieces that have it; really old talismans and items of protection. Also, cooking implements, antique stylus holders for scribes, miniature boxes. . . . There are even toys decorated with the astroctadra. If you go to the Museum of Ancient Toys, which is my favorite, you will see hundreds of astroctadra toys and games of all kinds, even rattles for infants. The most ancient ones came with us from Old Atlantis on Earth. Some people think it’s tiresome and too old-fashioned, so they don’t make them as much—unless they’re art replicas or souvenirs for tourists.”

  “But you don’t recall the specific meaning of this astroctadra?” my father persists gently. “Any references in your myths or legends? Stories? Forgive me, but I’m very curious, for some reason. . . .”

  “Oh, that’s okay, and there’s nothing to forgive,” Manala says innocently. “I’m very glad to answer all these questions.”

  There’s a pause as we all sort of think about it.

  “Daddy,” I say with a smile. “May I have my husband’s love gift back please? I’d hate to lose it.”

  “Oh, sure,” Dad says, surrendering my precious key back to Manala who brings it over to me.

  My fingers close eagerly over the key, with a weird sense of relief.

  “Oh, wait!” Manala exclaims suddenly. “How could I forget—the ‘Moon and Star’ game! I used to play it with my nannies, and Aeson too. You play it outside, when it gets dark, at night. . . . There’s this little rhyme you sing—”

  And then Manala taps my arm. “Gwen, I must show you how to play it with the astroctadra—may I please borrow your key again?” Before I can react, she snatches it from me. “I know it’s not the actual toy kind, but you can use any item that has the astroctadra to play.”

  “Okay,” I say, raising my brows.

  “First, you close your eyes,” Manala says, shutting hers. “Then you spin as you sing the rhyme.” She begins to turn around quickly, eyes still closed, hands outstretched, with the key raised in one hand, while reciting in a singsong manner:

  Find the moon around a star,

  Ride the Pegasus too far.

  Find the star around a moon,

  Meet your love by afternoon.

  “Then you stop, open your eyes, and look through the astroctadra at the evening sky. Whatever you happen to see in that exact spot—in your view of the sky, framed inside the little opening—is what you get. The object of the game ‘Moon and Star’ is to catch at least one moon inside the view hole. If you get no moon, only stars and darkness, you lose your turn and the other person gets to spin and sing and look at the sky.”

  “Definitely good fun for kids,” Dad says.

  “It can be so much fun! I used to love playing,” Manala says, lifting up the key and pretending to stare through the hole at something on the ceiling. “But the rules vary. Some people play in order to place bets—people in Atlantida just love making bets. But children play for fun, and it depends on what you decide your rules to be. So many astroctadra variations. Also, the toys sometimes have different kinds of interior openings; some are carved with multiple stars. . . . You will see so many of them in the Museum!”

  “It’s decided, we’ll have to visit this Museum at the earliest opportunity,” Dad says. “I should be more ambulatory in a few days.”

  “My key, please, Manala,” I say again with amusement.

  This time, the Imperial Princess returns Aeson’s love gift to me without protest.

  Perfect timing, since my husband himself walks into the room.

  Chapter 72

  “Aeson!” I shove the key in my pocket, seeing im amrevu’s grim, exhausted expression, as he stands at the doors of the guest suite.

  “Glad I found you here,” he says looking at me with a faint smile and vulnerable eyes, then clears his throat which sounds parched. “So sorry I didn’t return last night, Gwen. It was—impossible.”

  “I understand,” I say, coming up to him and touching him gently on the cheek and back of the neck, fingers parting golden strands of his long hair, then caressing his arm. “You need to have something to eat and drink right now, then bed!”

  “All right,” he says. “But there’s no time for bed. I will grab some eos bread, then I must return. We’re about to make official statements to the media—”

  “Can’t it wait? You need a couple hours of rest, at least!”

  “Your wife is right, listen to her,” my Dad says, pointing at the food stations.

  “Aeson, you look terrible!” Manala says. “Please, you are scaring me! Why can’t you rest?”

  “He will, eventually,” George says in a calming tone, giving Aeson a smart glance. “But now, let the man eat.”

  Aeson eats quickly and gulps down lvikao, saying almost nothing, and I don’t press him for details, especially in front of Manala. And then I somehow convince him to go with me to the master bedroom just to lie down for fifteen minutes.

  We head back there, passing through the workroom filled with people, and I’m almost afraid to look at the various computer screens for fear of seeing more disasters and casualties.

  “I’ll return shortly,” Aeson tells the daimon officers who glance up at him from their work stations. “Understood, Commander,” Oalla replies formally, giving the two of us a sharp look. “Please take that break now. Rest assured, we will inform you of any status changes.”

  Aeson nods, and we continue to his side of the Quarters.

  Once in our immense bedroom, I lead my husband firmly by the hand and insist on helping him to remove his footwear and some of his clothing. Then I fluff the pillows of our great bed and make him lie back.

  He obeys, watching me languidly with half-lidded eyes. “My . . . Gwen,” he says, taking hold of my hand and pulling me to him, so that I end up lying on my stomach alongside him. “Im vuchusei. . . .”

  “Close your eyes,” I say, my face hovering over his, without kissing him, for fear of arousing him too much and defeating the purpose of this whole thing.

  He obeys with a sigh, and his eyelids flutter closed in relaxation. I watch his thick, long lashes rest against his cheeks.

  “Ah, Gwen,” he mumbles. “You are my harbor.”

  “Shush,” I say. “Take a deep breath. Let it out. Now, another. . . .”

  In reply I hear a soft snore.

  I let Aeson sleep for an hour and a half, uninterrupted, then regretfully wake him up because Keruvat sends me a message that the SPC Commander is needed on multiple fronts.

  Aeson shudders awake, and his eyes fly open in immediate, wary alertness. “Bashtooh! I’ve slept!”

  “Why, yes, you have,” I retort, giving him a sound kiss on the corner of his lips and another on his cheek, then vigorously rub his shoulders. “And now you can get back to work with a slightly clearer head.”

  “I can think of something else that would really clear my head right now,” he says, letting his lips curve sensuously as he stares into my eyes.

  “No. Not until tonight,” I say, furrowing my brow sternly. “You must come to bed properly for that to happen.”

  “You are a very sneaky woman,” he replies, sitting up, then heads for the bathroom.

  For the rest of the afternoon Aeson is gone again, and I spend the time aimlessly. I visit with Dad and George, then take a short stroll along the gardens of the Imperial P
alace with Manala without running into anyone we know—such as curious Ladies of the Court who might want to gawk at the new Imperial Consort and see how she’s managing in her new life and position. Then we return back and watch the TV feeds only to see the grim announcement of the destruction of Septu Station being reported variously on every channel by solemn news anchors.

  There’s no escaping it, so I get away the only way I know how, by wandering into my own solitary bedroom with the four-point star window—or should I call it the astroctadra window, now that I know the proper term—and space out, thinking while staring at the incandescent daylight.

  A stray thought comes to me: today is the day I’ll need to take a small booster dose of the special Kassiopei contraceptive drink. Normally it’s good for five days (and it’s only been three days since the initial time I drank that golden goblet right before Amrevet Night) but this is to normalize the levels in my system and to adjust for my chosen day of the week. After this one-time booster I can switch to a regular weekly maintenance dose starting next week. The Imperatris recommends picking the day that coincides with my Quadrant color, so it’s easier to remember. For me, that would be Yellowday—from now on until I want to conceive. And so, must not forget to take it, if Aeson and I plan to be intimate tonight. . . .

  Thinking about it I go to the bathroom suite to check the cabinet where, supposedly, my Imperial apothecary refills will be available for me discreetly on a regular basis, supplied by the proper medical staff. I take a look, and indeed, the bottle is already there, marked exactly as described to me by the Imperatris. It is also time-stamped for best efficacy, and the time to take it is early evening, which means I should wait before having it later tonight, as prescribed.

  I sigh and mentally remind myself to return here at night, before anything physical happens between us.