“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.”