rulers, the way we can today. My father says there’s been nothing like it in history.”
“So that’s why you think about what will come afterward. Even if circumstances or ideologies change, you want something everyone can value, right?” said Orville.
“Yes, I keep saying I’m hoping that day will come.”
“But actually, that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“Afraid? I don’t think so. No, I’m sure I’m not.”
Orville casually rolled on top of her. His chest pressed into delightful softness. He stroked her hair—now undone, finally. “Humanity has been fighting and winning ever since you were born. Winning the war means any victories after that will pale in comparison. There might be civil strife, there might be secession. Doesn’t that scare you?”
“Sure, I suppose that could happen. If there’s no enemy, creating one is something we humans do. But that doesn’t scare me,” she answered.
“You’re one tough lady.”
“What? No, just the opposite. What I mean is, next to losing you, nothing could scare me.” Sayaka cradled Orville’s face in her hands and looked into his eyes. She chuckled dryly, then expression left her face. “We could always run away.”
“Not a good idea,” Orville said, and he kissed her deeply. Then he whispered in her ear, “I can’t lie to you. I don’t want to run away. The human species needs Messengers to fight for them. I have no doubts about that. I couldn’t throw that away and choose you, even if the people who made me allowed it. I’m at peace with my mission.”
“So much for seduction.”
“Damn it, can’t you understand?”
He embraced her powerfully and she responded. When words failed them, they communed with their bodies. But no matter how much this taught the lovers about each other, it left them both resigned to the impossibility of knowing everything.
Their four months together were over all too soon. As Orville’s deployment crept closer, they quarreled occasionally, but never enough to drive them apart. Once, however, Sayaka suggested they take a shuttle to tour one of the huge, near-lightspeed vessels docked in space. Orville sensed what was on her mind but said nothing till she’d circled the giant ship once, then veered away. After insertion into the return trajectory to Triton, Orville finally spoke.
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For turning back. You were thinking about stowing away, weren’t you? Once you’d boarded one of those ships, you would never come back. Not in this lifetime. But I’m glad you didn’t.”
“You really think so?” said Sayaka.
“Yes, because every one of those ships orbiting the Sun is restricted to port until we Messengers are deployed. They don’t want us running away. There’s no way we could have gone.”
“They think of everything.” She exhaled as if surprised and shook her head. “But that’s not what I meant. I was asking whether you really thought I wanted to run.”
“Don’t you?” said Orville.
“No.” She shook her head. Orville knew she wasn’t telling the truth, but he didn’t want to deny her decision to lie. “We’re counting on you, Orville.”
We, as in humanity.
Two-tenths of the Messengers slated for deployment—nearly fifty thousand—were on Triton. There were many couples like Orville and Sayaka, and as the day approached, the change in the city’s mood was apparent. Each couple had felt as if the world were theirs alone. Now they all knew that was impossible.
On the day of deployment, Orville spotted Sayaka from the gangway leading to his ship. She was part of a crowd—an astonishingly large crowd—united in the sorrow of parting. Orville called to Alexandr boarding ahead of him. “Shumina is here.”
“I know.” His massive bulk disappeared into the ship without looking back.
Orville turned. His keen vision picked out Sayaka looking toward him bravely, without tears. Of course , he thought. They had said their farewells quite
“So that’s why you think about what will come afterward. Even if circumstances or ideologies change, you want something everyone can value, right?” said Orville.
“Yes, I keep saying I’m hoping that day will come.”
“But actually, that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“Afraid? I don’t think so. No, I’m sure I’m not.”
Orville casually rolled on top of her. His chest pressed into delightful softness. He stroked her hair—now undone, finally. “Humanity has been fighting and winning ever since you were born. Winning the war means any victories after that will pale in comparison. There might be civil strife, there might be secession. Doesn’t that scare you?”
“Sure, I suppose that could happen. If there’s no enemy, creating one is something we humans do. But that doesn’t scare me,” she answered.
“You’re one tough lady.”
“What? No, just the opposite. What I mean is, next to losing you, nothing could scare me.” Sayaka cradled Orville’s face in her hands and looked into his eyes. She chuckled dryly, then expression left her face. “We could always run away.”
“Not a good idea,” Orville said, and he kissed her deeply. Then he whispered in her ear, “I can’t lie to you. I don’t want to run away. The human species needs Messengers to fight for them. I have no doubts about that. I couldn’t throw that away and choose you, even if the people who made me allowed it. I’m at peace with my mission.”
“So much for seduction.”
“Damn it, can’t you understand?”
He embraced her powerfully and she responded. When words failed them, they communed with their bodies. But no matter how much this taught the lovers about each other, it left them both resigned to the impossibility of knowing everything.
Their four months together were over all too soon. As Orville’s deployment crept closer, they quarreled occasionally, but never enough to drive them apart. Once, however, Sayaka suggested they take a shuttle to tour one of the huge, near-lightspeed vessels docked in space. Orville sensed what was on her mind but said nothing till she’d circled the giant ship once, then veered away. After insertion into the return trajectory to Triton, Orville finally spoke.
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For turning back. You were thinking about stowing away, weren’t you? Once you’d boarded one of those ships, you would never come back. Not in this lifetime. But I’m glad you didn’t.”
“You really think so?” said Sayaka.
“Yes, because every one of those ships orbiting the Sun is restricted to port until we Messengers are deployed. They don’t want us running away. There’s no way we could have gone.”
“They think of everything.” She exhaled as if surprised and shook her head. “But that’s not what I meant. I was asking whether you really thought I wanted to run.”
“Don’t you?” said Orville.
“No.” She shook her head. Orville knew she wasn’t telling the truth, but he didn’t want to deny her decision to lie. “We’re counting on you, Orville.”
We, as in humanity.
Two-tenths of the Messengers slated for deployment—nearly fifty thousand—were on Triton. There were many couples like Orville and Sayaka, and as the day approached, the change in the city’s mood was apparent. Each couple had felt as if the world were theirs alone. Now they all knew that was impossible.
On the day of deployment, Orville spotted Sayaka from the gangway leading to his ship. She was part of a crowd—an astonishingly large crowd—united in the sorrow of parting. Orville called to Alexandr boarding ahead of him. “Shumina is here.”
“I know.” His massive bulk disappeared into the ship without looking back.
Orville turned. His keen vision picked out Sayaka looking toward him bravely, without tears. Of course , he thought. They had said their farewells quite
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