“Oh Sheba, you didn’t have to…” Chris struggled to find anything he could say to feel he deserved this.
“Of course I did! We never had our proper engagement dinner!” said Sheba, “Now sit. I’m sure you’re starving, and I’m itching to get out of this dress.” Another wink was all it took to pin Chris to his seat. He wasn’t even sure what it was she’d made, with how quickly he inhaled it. It was delicious, though.
Around him and Sheba was a vortex of colliding worlds. This was a newer apartment complex, wired with Fusion tubing for all the modern commodities a young couple could want, in 2350. After relocating to an office to get an apartment away from the barracks, though, Chris and Sheba could only just afford furniture and decorations. The two found themselves unexpectedly grateful for the storage locker of collectibles Chris’ father had left them. His love for antiques had passed to his son but created a jarring visual as decor in their apartment. Silver food storage units defrosted and froze food in seconds, beside an old clock that still ticked. An oven could cook a piece of meat through in four blinks while a deep-cushioned rocking chair creaked in the living room. Anything beat the barracks, though. Over these past months, Chris and Sheba had even come to love it - differences had never been an obstacle for them.
“I hope you aren’t too tired,” said Chris, when at last he wiped the corner of his mouth.
“Not if you’re willing to do most of the work, after your long day,” said Sheba, red-lipped smile glistening. He’d been excited since he walked in, enthralled since he saw that dress; Chris couldn’t wait another second. Sheba leaned back in her chair, feigning the helpless damsel. “Oh, Major General, please whisk me away,” she moaned. Chris hoisted her up in both arms and carried her to their bedroom.
“Consider yourself whisked,” he whispered. He caught a glimpse of himself in the glass panes of a window on the way. His hazel eyes jumped out from the sharp lines of his face. His tufts of auburn hair swayed across his tan skin, already glinting with a certain thrill. The briefest thought crossed his mind: what did I do to deserve this? He followed the teal glass tubes of Fusion lights down the hall and laid his fiancée on their bed, beside another candle. He flipped the lights.
Chris crawled over her and slipped his smile between hers. Warmth bound them together, then wetness. Their lips locked, loosened, and grazed. Sheba’s legs slid apart so Chris could take a knee between them, like he’d taken a knee for her in their favorite park. He worked his mouth down her neck, feeling the pores prickle alive. He kissed the ridge of her breast, her stomach, all the way down to those dark thighs. With her heat still on his face, he slipped the skirt of her dress up. The arch of Sheba’s shoulders to help get it off told him she was ready. She snapped up and seized his clothes into two claws of long nails. She tore them off and tossed them away with deft grace. Sheba’s arms locked around his neck and pulled him down. She reached for the pulsing muscle between his legs, and put it against her. Chris pushed gently inside.
Chris and Sheba let out a deep breath together. The next minutes, hours, bled together in a churning sea of emotion and physical sensation. Tense muscles. Warm skin. Lips. The graze of fingers across nipples. Sheba crossed her legs behind Chris’ hips to take him in as deep as she could. She arched her back again and clasped her fingers with his. Their love yanked the bed from the wall before Chris gave five last deep rocks and the two shared moments of climax, seconds apart. Bursts of colors played behind the closed eyes of concentration while they gasped and throbbed and groaned. Almost immediately, Chris collapsed beside his fiancée.
“Amazing…” mumbled Sheba, legs still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.
“I know… and I don’t even have to try,” Chris joked, to a slap on the arm. He rolled over on his side, to gaze into big brown eyes. He and Sheba worked together to unwrinkle the sheets over them both.
“Are you… excited?” asked Sheba, to break the amorous silence.
“Not quite so much as I was minutes ago,” said Chris. Sheba’s eyes went wide with disbelief, but he had to get it out somewhere. The others at Chris’office were hardly the humorous type, at least around the Major General.
“About the wedding, Chris!” said Sheba, which of course, he knew.
“You mean the wedding planning. And as a matter of fact, I am,” Chris assured her. He sat half up when he realized his mistake. “Not that that means we have to fig
ure it all out tonight.” Sheba laughed at the honest panic in his voice. He knew they could, too, if he gave Sheba the reins. Two of her favorite things: planning and a wedding, especially her own? But Chris wanted to be part of it, too.
“How about a location?” Sheba prompted. Her eagerness was irresistible.
“How… specific do we need to get?” said Chris.
“Let’s start with which planet,” said Sheba. Though he’d grown in a life with two worlds, Chris had never left Earth, and so the notion was still a culture shock for him. When he and Sheba were dating, and she first told him she hailed from the big red marble, rather than the blue one, he couldn’t believe it. She seemed so human - more than that; charming, provocative. Before he met her, Chris had believed his father’s old prejudice that people born in Mars’ colonies would be more… alien.
“What do you think?” said Chris, “No matter where we plan it, one of our families will have to cross the SkyLine to get there.”
“Maybe we should have it somewhere out there, then?” said Sheba. Chris snorted.
“On the SkyLine? Please, I don’t need to seem any more like an Earthlocked tourist than I already do,” Chris waved it off. Sheba’s eyes glossed over.
“Then… you’d go to Mars? You’d drag your whole family out there?” said Sheba.
“If you were set on having the wedding there.” Chris knew it was so much easier said than done. His father’s prejudice against Cold Fusion technology, the resultant AI-driven robots, and just about everything else that came from the mines on the red planet, ran deep in their veins.
“Chris… I love you. I don’t know if I can ever tell you how much,” said Sheba, “Which is why we’ll do it on Earth. Your family might be more… receptive on their own turf.”
“I love you, too,” smiled Chris. They leaned for a kiss just before the shrill ring of their ancient phone rattled its hook. Chris had to have a special port installed for the land-line they inherited from his dad, since affording Fusion phones was entirely out of the question for them now. Chris would have let it ring itself out, but for the fact that there were only two other places connected to their house on the archaic line. It was either his job, or a job offer for Sheba. “Hello?” he sighed into the receiver.
“Who is it?” murmured Sheba, while Chris’ face darkened.
“WCC,” he whispered, still listening. Each word seemed to yank his heartstrings tighter. “I… are you sure? Yes, I know you wouldn’t call if you weren’t… yes… I understand…” Chris reached for his pants.
“Good Lord, what is it, Chris?”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Chris said, before clicking the phone back down. His eyes fell heavy on Sheba. “I have to go to the WCC consulate… there’s been an attack.”
Chapter Two: Dark Developments