Episode 7 continued...with an Easter Egg in the chapter for you Jin Yong fans.
Athena’s doffed boots stand next to a warm fire in Hathaway’s apartment. Next to them lie her soggy socks, now slowly being dried by the fire’s heat. The comforting warmth of the flames greatly improve Athena’s mood.
Further improving Athena’s mood is the foot rub that Hathaway is giving her to bring warmth and circulation back into her nearly frozen feet. The constant, but gentle rubbing of Hathaway’s soft hands and the application of his warm breath on Athena’s slender, elegant arches and toes are superbly comforting.
Athena bites her lower lip gently as circulation begins to return to her feet, bringing with it the telltale feeling of “needles.”
“Better?” Hathaway asks Athena gently.
“Much,” Athena replies, “thank you so much.”
“Glad to,” Hathaway replies, meaning it.
Even when I was a Duchess, I was never pampered like this, Athena thinks to herself with a degree of amusement.
“I think that’ll be fine, Hathaway,” Athena says, “I don’t want to tire you out there.”
Athena says so out of courtesy, but as far as she can tell, Hathaway is enjoying giving her the foot rub even more than she is enjoying receiving it.
Nevertheless, Hathaway grins, “All right. Let me get you something to wear on those lovely feet of yours.”
Hathaway disappears into his bedroom.
Athena rises from where she has been sitting on the couch of Hathaway’s living room and makes a closer examination of her surroundings, absorbing the details around her.
It is a modestly, but tastefully furnished apartment, most likely built after the end of the One Year War. The furniture is modern and new, combining function and comfort. Athena reasons that Hathaway has not been living here very long, and most likely, not very frequently. The place has more the feel of a temporary stopover than a permanent home. The only indication that contradicts that impression is the presence of several paintings hung on the apartment’s living room walls, apparent reproductions of classic works by centuries-dead masters.
Athena wonders why she doesn’t feel more vulnerable standing barefoot in the apartment of a young man she had met scarcely twenty-four hours ago, but somehow, she doesn’t. The wooden floorboards of Hathaway’s modest, but well kept apartment feel wonderfully organic under the soles of Athena’s feet. For someone whose life has been mainly spent in space colonies and spaceships, and dressed variously in royal raiment and military uniforms, it’s a rare and cherished feeling of complete naturalness. It helps Athena appreciate why Colonel Char often told her that to live on the Earth was a privilege, and one that humanity had thoughtlessly squandered.
Hathaway emerges from his bedroom with a pair of slippers…his own. “These are all I have,” he says somewhat apologetically, “but you’re welcome to them.”
“Thank you,” Athena says, sliding her feet into slippers slightly too large for her.
“Like a drink?” Hathaway offers.
“I’d appreciate one,” Athena replies, “thank you.”
“Make yourself at home,” Hathaway says, “I’ll be back in just a minute.”
As Hathaway disappears into the kitchen, Athena admires some of the young man’s wall paintings. Hathaway Noah might be young, but he certainly has taste.
Athena steps closer to one of the paintings. Her admiring smile soon turns into a scowl of realization.
Paul Cezanne, French Post-impressionist painter, produced some of the finest paintings of the early 20th Century. Much of his work was lost in the numerous calamities that have besieged humanity in the two centuries since Cezanne last put down his paintbrush. What few samples that have survived have seen their value skyrocket. A Cezanne original in U.C. 0098 could fetch prices on the collector’s market that would buy a mobile suit.
Inexplicably, Cezanne’s original Still Life With Curtain, painted in 1895 of the old Gregorian calendar, hangs on a wall in Hathaway Noah’s apartment in suburban Shanghai. Nearby is another of Cezanne’s classic works, Les Grandes Baigneuses, painted in 1906, the year Cezanne died. This one too, Athena notes, is authentic.
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Paul Cezanne, Still Life With Curtain, 1895
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Paul Cezanne, Les Grandes Baigneuses, 1906
“Do you like Cezanne?” Hathaway asks, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Very much,” Athena replies, “I’ve long had an affinity for Cezanne’s work.”
“Got those prints cheap at a local bazaar,” Hathaway replies, “I’m not much of an art collector, but they do liven up these dull rooms a bit.”
Athena says nothing, but she knows that Hathaway is transparently lying. Athena can distinguish real paintings from cheap prints, and Hathaway Noah, CFM staff writer, somehow has possession of two priceless 20th Century treasures. Athena has a hunch how he obtained the paintings, and what their purpose is.
The two seat themselves comfortably on a plush, soft rug in front of the fire.
Hathaway hands Athena a flute-shaped glass of clear white wine. The pair toasts each other and takes a sip.
“Chardonnay,” Athena identifies the taste, “excellent vintage.”
Hathaway says, “U.C. 0078 – good year.”
Athena puts down her glass, “Some would say the last good year, but this dates to 0074.”
Hathaway looks at Athena with admiration, “Is there any lie you can’t see through?”
“Everybody has their blind spots,” Athena says, swirling the wine in its glass, “I do what I can to keep people out of mine.”
Hathaway challenges, “If they are in your blind spot, how would you even know they’re there?”
Athena replies, “One should never rely on her eyes alone. There are other, more comprehensive senses.”
Hathaway says, “You’re talking like a Newtype.”
“If I were a Newtype,” Athena says, “I would have predicted my car troubles today and just stayed in bed.”
“But then, you wouldn’t have come here,” Hathaway offers.
“Thank goodness I can’t predict the future, then,” Athena returns.
“I hope I never end up in your blind spot,” Hathaway says.
“Because…?” Athena ventures.
“Because,” Hathaway says, leaning his face closer to Athena’s, “I want you to always see me.”
The space between their lips closes slowly until it is a space no more. The kiss is long, deep, and passionate, sending an electric thrill through both of them.
Their lips disengage. Both are out of breath. How long had they stopped breathing?
Hathaway breaks the silence with an utterly absurd, but yet somehow utterly fitting, “Hey, are you hungry?”
Now that Hathaway mentions it, Athena realizes that she is. She hasn’t eaten since that tiny triangle chicken salad sandwich she had for lunch....eight hours ago. It’s 19:00: about an hour after the Centurions usually have dinner back at the base. No wonder Athena feels hungry.
“Wait a minute,” Athena says with a smile, “don’t tell me you haven’t gotten over not being able to pay for dinner last night.”
“No,” Hathaway says, “I’m broke anyway. But if you like home cooking, I can whip up a gourmet meal really quick.”
“You cook too,” Athena remarks, “Now I’m really impressed.”
“Wait here?” Hathaway whispers.
“No,” Athena says, “I’d like to…I’d like to join you.”
Ten minutes later, the pair is inside the kitchenette of Hathaway’s apartment. Athena slices mushrooms and bell peppers as Hathaway beats some eggs. The pair then works the frying pan and skillet to perfection, like master chefs who have worked together for years. Between them, the two soon produce a delectable mushroom and pepper omelet.
In the dining room minutes later, Athena takes a bite of their collaboration. She nods with approval, “Quite good.”
Hathaway expresses similar approval, “You’re not bad in the kitchen either.”
“Survival skill,” Athena remarks, taking another sip of wine, “it’s either that or eating Jolie’s cooking.”
Athena’s slight shudder brings a laugh out of Hathaway as he remembers Jolie’s joke about military provisions.
“What doesn’t come out of me from one end usually comes out the other,” Hathaway and Athena quote in unison, causing them both to laugh.
Hathaway says, “Your friend, Jolie. She’s a real hottie.”
“Don’t even think about it, Hathaway,” Athena says with teasing admonition, “she’s practically my little sister. You break her heart, and I’ll break your balls…although knowing Jolie, she’d probably take care of that herself.”
Hathaway grins, “Jealous now, eh?”
“Yeah, right,” Athena remarks, amused by the preposterous idea of her and Jolie at odds over a man.
Hathaway says somewhat more seriously, “Jolie is cute, but she’s just a girl. She’s the same age as my sister.”
That brings a laugh from Athena, “You’re only a little over a year older than she is, Hathaway…here you are talking like you’re some kind of graybeard.”
Hathaway says, “And you’re only about a year older than I am. Does that make you an old lady, Miss Nineteen-Year Old Special Forces Commander?”
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Nineteen year old Captain Athena Ibaz in November, U.C. 0098
“Positively an old hag,” Athena answers, finishing the last of her share of the omelet.
“They don’t make hags like they used to,” Hathaway says, drinking in Athena’s youthful beauty with his wine.
“Ask my squadmates,” Athena says, “they’ll tell you how ugly I can get when I lose my temper.”
“I had no idea the Federal Forces were recruiting blind soldiers these days,” Hathaway says.
Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Athena says, “All right, that’s enough flattery. It’s almost 20:00…8 p.m. for you civilians. I’ve got to get back to the base within two hours, or there’ll be hell to pay.”
Hathaway Noah looks outside, “Looks like the snow’s let up. Should be safe to drive. You sure you have to go so soon?”
“Some of us have to work in morning,” Athena replies dryly.
“Right,” Hathaway smiles, “put your socks and boots back on. I’ll warm up the car.”
As Athena pulls her now dried socks and boots back onto her attractive feet, Hathaway guns up the engine of his sports car. Within minutes, the couple is en rout via the main highway towards Whampoa Base.
Hathaway’s sleek red sports car pulls up to the gate of Whampoa Base at 20:45. Hathaway and Athena exchange one final kiss before the Centurion Team Leader disembarks from the car.
“Thanks for everything tonight, Hathaway,” Athena says, “we’ll meet again.”
As Athena prepares to enter the gate, Hathaway says, “Hold on. Are you doing anything tomorrow night?”
Athena stops and replies, “Tomorrow is Saturday night. The squad has the night off, so I can be free if I want to be. Why?”
Hathaway says, “There’s a formal dance being held by the local division of Anaheim Enterprises. Lots of big shots from the business, politics, and the media will be there. I’ve got an invitation, but no date, so…um,”
“What time tomorrow?” Athena smiles.
“7 p.m. That’s 19:00 for you soldiers,” Hathaway replies.
“Pick me up at six, then,” Athena says.
Hathaway watches adoringly as Athena passes through the gate into Whampoa Base.
It’s past 21:00 by the time that Athena enters the dormitory facility where the Special Forces are temporarily quartered.
Jolie, wearing a nightshirt that is entirely too short for her, sits on one of the dormitory lounge’s beanbags, long, smooth, and slender legs crossed temptingly “Indian”-style. The pretty teenager is reading some sort of paperback book, which rather surprises Athena.
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Jolie Minh in her "too short nightshirt." Special thanks to SPCNET Forum member roger and his anonymous artist friend for the image.
Jolie glances up from her book at the clock mounted on the lounge wall, notes the time, then glances at Athena with mocking reproval, “20:00, huh?”
Athena runs her hands tiredly through her hair, “Yes, I know. I ran into some delays on the way back. Where’s the rest of the squad?”
“In bed already,” Jolie says, “the training regimen you left behind for us exhausted them.”
Athena grins, “All except you, of course.”
“Hey, well, you know my reputation as a bundle of energy!” Jolie remarks brightly.
“What are you reading?” Athena asks, hoping that Jolie has started taking her advice about feeding her mind.
“Old story I used to love when I was a kid!” Jolie replies, showing Athena the book.
Athena takes the paperback novel, borrowed from the lounge library, and looks at the cover: The Giant Eagle and Its Companion, by Louis Cha, known in Asia as Jin Yong. A wuxia adventure/romance novel from the 20th Century.
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The Giant Eagle and Its Companion, by Louis Cha (Jin Yong). Jolie Minh's favorite story of all time.
“Ever read that before?” Jolie asks, “It’s been translated into many languages.”
“Yes, I know,” Athena replies, “I read it in the original Chinese years ago when I was learning the language. This novel, along with Confucius’ The Analects and Sun Tzu’s Art of War, helped me become literate in Chinese. Saw one of the movie adaptations too…the last one was made in U.C. 0083, I think.”
Jolie rolls her eyes, remembering that Athena is fluent and literate in fifteen different languages, Chinese being one of them.
“Did you like it?” Jolie asks.
“The adventure story was quite good,” Athena remarks, flipping through the book, “hated the romance story, though.”
Jolie uncrosses her lovely legs and kneels on the beanbag, pulling forth the hem of her too-short nightshirt for a little more coverage, “Mommy used to read that story to me every night before bedtime. It’s still my favorite story even now! I think it’s so romantic how devoted Yang Guo was to Dragon Girl. I really hope I can meet a boy someday who’ll love me like that.”
Athena rolls up the paperback and waves it admonishingly at Jolie as she offers it back to her younger charge, “You know, love stories like this are just fairy tales. It’s not very realistic to hope for anything like it.”
“Oh, really?” Jolie challenges, taking the novel back from Athena’s outstretched hand, “What about Hathaway Noah, then? Did you see him in town today?”
“I spent the last few hours with him,” Athena says matter-of-factly, “he was the one who gave me a ride back to the base.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jolie says, caught off guard. Springing forth with catlike agility from the beanbag, she attaches herself to Athena’s arm, “What’s this? Tell me more!”
“I was getting hypothermia waiting for those idiots at the military motor pool to dispatch a vehicle to help me,” Athena says, “Hathaway happened to live just a block from where my land rover stopped on me. He invited me over to warm up. We had dinner together, and he drove me back. That’s all.”
Jolie smiles with satisfied glee, “Hah! I knew there was a real woman inside you!”
Pouring herself a glass of hot tea from the lounge Thermos bottle, Athena asks, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Jolie says, “I mean, that’s great! You really need to get out there and meet somebody, ‘Thena! You’re a beautiful girl, but you’re gonna end up an old maid if you don’t stop obsessing about the war and start thinking about your own future!”
Athena is amused, “Now you’re the one teaching me?”
Jolie replies, “Hey, when it comes to book smarts and strategy and things like that, you know way more than I do, but I can teach you lots of things about relationships with guys!”
“Right,” Athena says sarcastically, sipping the tea, “I know that the men on the base and in Side 7 hit on you all the time. They hit on me too. That doesn’t make you some kind of relationships expert, Jolie. Good grief, you’re only sixteen!”
“Sixteen,” Jolie says, running her hands through her long, luscious hair and adopting a seductive pose, “but a veteran heartbreaker.”
“That I do believe,” Athena says in response, meaning it, “Anyway, let’s get to bed. We have a long day of training exercises tomorrow from 05:00 to 17:00.”
“Want to go into town with me again tomorrow night?” Jolie asks.
“I’ll be going into town tomorrow night,” Athena says, “but you’re going to have to party with the rest of the squad. I’ve got a date with Hathaway. A formal dance being thrown by Anaheim downtown tomorrow night.”
Jolie’s eyes widen, “Date? With Hathaway? Damn, ‘Thena, you learn faster than I thought.”
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Athena says, “I’m curious about Hathaway, but not for the reasons you’re imagining.”
“What do you mean?” Jolie asks.
“I just have a hunch,” Athena says cryptically, and leaves it at that.
Episode 7 to be continued...