---Hurts---
---Ngngomg’s perspective---
---2698 Terran Calendar/15 years BF---
“It hu-u-u-uuurts…!!!” I sob, pathetically.
“What hurts, Ngo?” asks my wife, standing over me as I lie on the sofa in our apartment while she looks down on me with a mix of sympathy and amusement.
“Everything hurts… My skin! My muscles! My organs! My bones!… My brain hurts! Everything!!!”
The little deathworld woman chuckles, baring her white, calcite teeth in a way that I am the only (wholly) gardenworlder she ever allows to see.
She kneels onto the low couch and, carefully, begins crawling up my front to bring her face level to mine.
Gently, she brings the weight of her dense body down on my sensitive torso… is it my imagination or does she already feel lighter than before?
“Ngngomg Ong… my love, my darling… light of my life and fire of my loins…” she mocks “…Remind me of some things, would you?”
I do not answer… but my silence does not reprieve me.
“Which one of us said they wanted children?”
I sigh “…Me…”
She nods as if remembering “…and, when one of us suggested trying to adopt some Gollogng children, who was it that insisted on hybrids?”
“Also me…”
“Is that sooo…? Tell me, when one of us suggested a single child to start with, who was it who wanted three at once?”
“Triplets are normal for Gollogng…” I answer.
“I see! And… when the clinic suggested moderating their strength capacity down, who was in favour and who was opposed to that?”
“*sigh*… You were in favour… I said we would be robbing them by doing so.”
“Uh-huh, uh-huh! And… after the twelfth broken bone you got from your growing hybrid children, whose idea was it for you to volunteer as a guineapig for dangerous, experimental deathworlderfication gene therapy?”
“That would be mine…”
She chuckles, the force jiggling us both.
Placing her palms against the sides of my face, her thumbs above my eyes rather than under my chin, the way a Gollogng’s would be, she leans down to press her lips to mine, her squashy, cartilaginous nose deforming against the bone of the front of my skull.
Pulling from the kiss, she smiles “This is the bed you made, darling… now you’ve got to lie in it!”
“While we’re laying out all the debts I owe you… do you not want to point out how you helped me save my kin from certain death in the War? How you made sure I was looked after while a prisoner on your planet? How you got me a job at the ODR? How you got the evidence that overturned my banishment and reinstated my tribal citizenship declassified? How you’re currently taking reduced hours to look after the kids when they aren’t at nursery because I can’t?”
“Nonsense…” she answers, shaking her head “…spouses carry no debts to eachother. What happened during the War was nothing more or less than me doing my job… albeit doing so while trying not to daydream about you too hard(!)… Getting your name back and your banishment lifted was important to you and, so, it was important to me! Likewise for looking after the kids while you’re laid up!… We’re a team, you and I… partners!”
I smile “Every day I am with you is a debt I owe you, Lha!”
“A debt repaid by every day I’m with you…” she grins. Then she seems to realise something “…When was the last time you ate, Ngo?”
I groan “I can’t… I can’t eat anymore! My stomach will burst!!!”
Sternly, she reminds me “The more you eat, the faster you’ll recover and the lower the chance of complications!… You know that, darling!… No less than 3561kcals a day!”
“I’ve… already… eaten that much…” I lie.
Not fooled for even a moment, she raises an eyebrow and says “Kitchen… how many calories of food has been taken by Ngngomg Ong, today?”
The nonsentient kitchen software betrays me instantly “2241kcals.”
Speaking to me the same way she speaks to our children when they misbehave, she starts “That’s…”
“Wait…” I interrupt “…you made me breakfast! It’s not counting that!”
She thinks and then nods, conceding.
“Kitchen, how much food has been eaten by Ngngomg Ong, today?”
“2902kcals.”
“That’s still not enough…” she says, her eyebrow raised and her lips pursed “…kitchen, one vanilla flavoured cashew milkshake… 750kcals, please!”
The drinks dispenser hums to life.
“That’s too much!” I protest.
“3561 minimum…” she points out “…you can consider the excess a punishment for trying to lie about it(!)”
She gets up to retrieve the large cup from the kitchen, returns and firmly places it down on the coffee table beside me.
“Drink that while I go put our kids to bed…” she instructs (in a tone that brooks no argument) before walking away.
I force my aching limbs to pull me into a seated position and pick up the (surprisingly light) container as I hear “Alright, you three… bed time!” from down the hall.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
I chuckle at the predictable chorus of ‘Aaaaaaaaaaawwww…’s and ‘Buuuuuut Muuuuuuuum…’s which my wife handily shuts down.
I sip, tasting the fatty, sugary liquid that, once upon a time, would have seemed like a decadent indulgence to me but is now the taste of convalescence!
I hear Lhamo’s voice as she settles the kids and starts telling them stories.
It takes me a full [30 minutes] to finish the mandated drink, during which time, I know, she’ll have made it through a few of her people’s children’s tales.
My cup finally empty, I groan and suck in air through my teeth as I stand and begin hobbling down the hallway.
It’s a little difficult not to feel claustrophobic when you’re in this much pain… Like you’re trapped in your own body while it tortures you… Difficult not to fall into the trap of thinking this might be permanent!
I round the door and see the navy blue heads of hair and pale, lilac skinned faces of three sleeping 3 year olds, each around [130cm] tall, tucked into bed, with my wife sat up on the side.
Lobsang, Lhatso and Yangchen… my children.
“…and so, upon entering the river, the baby horse found that, though she could touch the bottom, it was much deeper than to her knees, as great Brother Cow had told her. Likewise, it was not so deep an powerful as to sweep her away and drown her, as small Sister Squirrel had said… As her mother had told her, she needed to consider who the person was when they told her things, and how they might see the world differently.” my wife concludes.
I bare my neon blue teeth at her as she gets up, doublechecks for any wake ups, then walks to the door, waving off the lights behind her.
---2713 Terran Calendar/9 days BF---
“This isn’t a social call, darling…!” my wife reassures me “…I don’t know what it’s about but Zurab knows what time we need to leave… Don’t worry!”
I nod, uneasily, and, right on cue, our doorbell rings.
There stand Zurab ‘Peacemaker’ Mudaliar (the man with what must be a serious contender for the most self fulfilling prophecy of an epithet ever held by a Terran(!)) and his husband Chhay ‘Amok’ Sok… two men I know relatively well as coworkers.
Chhay is a fellow spouse of a diplomat, making him a diplomat as well…
I say ‘fellow’ but, though Lhamo and I both completed the necessary training a few years ago now, we’ve not been in a position to accept any actual postings… though, those circumstances won’t be the same tomorrow.
“Come in, you two!” beams my wife.
“Thank you for having us.” responds Chhay, equally graciously, as they enter.
The four of us naturally end up going to the coffee table and taking seats without anyone needing to suggest it.
The two men take the armchairs, on one side, Lhamo and I take the sofa, on the other.
“So… what’s this about, Zurab?… Must be serious if you need Chhay here to talk to me about it!” asks my wife, apprehensively.
“Lhamo, I’d love to cut right to the chase but there’s someone else who needs to be in on this first… would you mind if I put a call on your wall?”
My wife and I both shake our heads and she gestures for him to go ahead.
Once upon a time, I found it very strange when the dynamic needed to shift from personal to business between Lhamo and our colleagues… now though, I’m fairly used to it.
None the less, I can’t help but be anxious about whoever’s being called(!)
A smiling woman answers, what looks like a private office displaying behind her…
I can instantly tell that she’s a combat veteran… a talent I picked up during my POW days.
Her clothing (that I can see) is sleek and glamourous.
Her appearance is closer to that of Lhamo’s and Chhay’s than Zurab’s but I don’t think she’s quite the same [ethnicity] as either of them.
She has vivid violet eyes that, even if she were a Tshwane (which she’s very clearly not), I would still guess had to be modded(!)
She has a silver streak in her hair that could be dyed but, given her eyes, I would lean toward that also being a mod.
There’s something familiar about her, though I can’t place it.
“Dr Lhamo ‘Crane’ Yeshe, Mr Ngngomg Ong… meet Dr Emiko ‘Smiles’ Miyazaki… Jeanne’s sister…”
---later---
We sit in stunned silence as my wife manually pilots us through the skylanes.
Eventually, I manage to say “We have to tell the kids…”
“We absolutely do not…” Lhamo answers, instantly and firmly but not angrily “…we need to let this be their moment… We don’t even know whether we’re going yet and, if we are, it’ll be months before we leave… After they’ve settled in a bit, then we’ll tell them on a call.”
I nod.
She’s right… It would sort of trample on the sanctity of this once in a lifetime moment… They may even think we had waited to tell them now, on purpose! Springing it on them at the last possible instant we could…
Our destination comes into view and she makes for the nearby vehicle storage.
We set down and, the moment we’re off the landing pad, the vehicle is whisked underground to be stored, a ping ringing out from my wife’s holo with the presumable retrieval code message.
We walk into the starport terminus and, after a few moments of looking around, spot our children.
They all managed to make it here, on time, without us giving them a lift from whatever they were doing with their friends.
Lobsang is the tallest, most of a head taller than either of his sisters (who are currently the same height as eachother only because Lhatso is wearing heels).
Yangchen has her hair in a tight bun, half of Lhatso’s is in a braid.
Their heavy luggage will have already been loaded into the ship’s hold in orbit, the bags they have with them being only the essentials they’ll need until they can get access to the rest of their stuff.
Despite how warm it is, all of them are wearing the cold weather clothing we bought them as going away presents.
It apparently gets very chilly in Vancouver.
It’s nearly impossible to believe my three are all grown up and off to a Terran [uni]!
It feels like yesterday they were babies, using their deathworlder strength to squirm out of my arms!
I’m… glad they were able to go to the same one… I’m glad they wanted to…
Too much to expect that they’d all want to do the same course, though…
The five of us embrace as we meet.
When the hug concludes, my wife stands back and inhales deeply before wistfully saying “There you are… I can’t believe it’s goodbye…”
“We’ll call often, Mother…” smiles my son to nods of agreement from his sisters.
“You’d better(!)” she answers “Everything all set? No problems?”
Lhatso shakes her head “We just need to get on the shuttle up to the ship… we only waited out here so we could say goodbye.”
“I see…” says my wife, doing an admirable job of not looking like she’s in danger of choking up “…well, you three had better stay out of trouble while you’re on Earth.”
“We’ll try, Mum!” smirks Yang, my little warrior.
“Good!… But… if you get in trouble don’t hesitate to call your father and I!… We’ll be on the first transport out if you need us!”
“Thank you, Mum, thank you, Dad.” smiles Tsotso, my little princess, sweetly.
“And please look after eachother, as much as you can! Try not to fight!”
“We’ll be fine, Mother.” smiles Lob, my little scholar.
“Yang, try not to punch too many boys or kiss too many girls(!)” I quip.
She chuckles and shrugs “That’s not really up to me, is it(?)… Depends entirely on how punchable the boys I meet are and how kissable the girls(!)”
I raise an eyebrow and answer “Bear in mind that the weakest opponents you’ll likely find on Earth will be about as strong as your mother is… most will be stronger…”
“Heeeeey(!)” objects Lhamo, laughing.
Yang grins “Good… could use a challenge! Gets old always winning so easily!”
“Lob… try to help your sister’s with their studies if they need it… don’t do their assignments for them, though!”
He bares his pale blue teeth and answers “I won’t let these slackers take advantage, Father(!)”
“Tsotso… try not to spend all your time at parties… and try not to break anyone’s heart too badly(!)”
She smiles “You and Mum taught me well enough to know that, Dad.”
At that moment, an announcement plays, letting us know that their shuttle will be departing shortly.
Lhamo and I both hug each of our three children goodbye, taking the last opportunity to hold them close that we’re likely to get for, potentially, years…
All three of them need to bend down to hug their mother and I need to do the same for them.
We bid them ‘goodbye’ one final time and they pick up their bags and board the craft.
We wave at eachother through the window as they begin taking off.
Only once they are safely out of sight does my wife allow her composure to crack.
I hear her sniffles and feel her arms as she clings to my side.
“It hurts…!” she sobs.
I put my arm to her back and squeeze her close as I answer “I know… me too…”