Morgan's Choice
Page 33
She looked up at the stars, bright enough despite the competition from the two small moons. “We know the Yogina came from the same place I came from. But more and more I think your ancestors did, too.”
He turned her around so he could see her face, his pupils wide in the dim light. “You’ve thought more about what you said to Artemis?”
“I’m guessing.”
“Then guess.”
“Well, we know about Artemis. An MI sent to prepare the way for people escaping the Cyber Wars.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Well... What if those two people in that shrine were scientists, geneticists, trapped on some planet somewhere in the Cyber Wars, like that Doctor Rosmenyo? They decided to escape but a little more than that. They decided to create a new sort of ‘human’.” She hooked her fingers around the word human. “People who wouldn’t have wars. They’re idealists, dreamers. So they create people who all look the same—dark skin, black hair, no different shaped eyes or noses for people to argue about. They like cats so they improve their creations with a few feline characteristics like eyes and flexible spines, stronger muscles. Remember the small cats in the shrine and the big cats holding up the pillars in the cave? Your eyes look like cats’ eyes. You can see better in dim light than humans, see some other vibrations. And you’re faster and stronger and much more sure-footed than we are.”
“Keep going.”
“Well, then they thought about all the other reasons people fight. No jobs, no territory. So they created four classes so everyone had a job, everyone fitted somewhere and made it so those classes couldn’t mix. And got rid of some things they didn’t like, such as homosexuality. Maybe some others we don’t know about.”
“But we do fight. The Vesha and the Mirka, in particular.”
“Mm. That was their biggest mistake, I think. Business is so much like war. Companies compete for territory, take each other over, fight to maintain advantage. Just not with weapons that kill people. And I think the Mirka have a strong inclination to protect, which the Vesha don’t seem to have. Or at least, from what I’ve seen.”
He said nothing for a few moments, considering her words, head bent. “But how did they get here? Were they colony ships?”
“That I don’t know. But they could have used a small ship carrying embryos. Maybe they left before Artemis. The history of the Wars gets hazy the further back you go.”
He took her face in his hands and gazed into her eyes. “Have you found your home, out there among the stars?”
She smiled. “How could I have? What makes you say that?”
“I saw the log Artemis showed you. Too fast for me, perhaps. But not for you. You copied it, didn’t you?”
Yes, she had. A wave slipped up onto the shore as he waited for a reply. “You know me too well.”
“That is how she got into your head.”
He was probably right. But she would never know for sure.
“Well?” he asked, his voice a caress. “Have you worked it out? From Krystor back to Andreena, from there to Dilmar?”
She chuckled. She should have realized he’d figure it out. “You’re a smart man, Admiral. I can work out the distances and the route she took. But I don’t have three thousand years.”
He leaned over her, so close she could feel the puff of his breath. “Do you want to go home?”
She’d thought about that. But only briefly. The answer was too obvious. “No. Home is where the heart is. And mine is here.”
He kissed her, a tender brush of his lips on hers. “I think it’s time we made love again.”
She let him lead her inside. Yes Sir, three bags full, Sir.
The End
About the Author
Greta van der Rol loves writing science fiction with a large dollop of good old, healthy romance. She lives not far from the coast in Queensland, Australia and enjoys photography and cooking when she isn't bent over the computer. She has a degree in history and a background in building information systems, both of which go a long way toward helping her in her writing endeavours.
http://www.gretavanderrol.com
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