Anith: Beyond Space

12

"Alright..." Anith stared at the large stone they'd created. "I think this will work."

"I hope so," she huffed.

He set the stone into the power source carefully.

Roxanne watched anxiously.

"Power source accepted," the ship echoed.

"Whoo! Yes! We did Anith! Let's get off this rock!"

He grinned, sitting at the controls. "Iohiri, here we come,"

Roxanne danced around in happiness, gushing about how she couldn't believe that worked and thanking god because she had gotten tired of the smell on that moon.

Anith just shook his head, musing silently that they could've been safe on earth if she hadn't been a lunatic.

She threw her hands around his neck, just barely. He smiled, picking her up.

"Yes, yes, we're going home," he grinned.

She paused. "Home?"

"Yes. And it's my home. So no viruses, or blowing it up, or whatever else you do," he chided. "None of that. Even if you hate it."

"Will I hate it?" She raised her brow.

"I don't think so," he held her with one hand, putting in the coordinates in the computer. "Clean, fresh air. No pollution. Clean energy sources. I think you won't want to blow it up."

She smiled.

"But then, I didn't think you wanted to blow your planet up," he mused. "So maybe I'm unsure."

She laid her head on his chest. He sat down in the pilot's seat, setting her on his lap, as the expanse of space whizzed by them.

"There's still some noodles," he murmured, "We can hear it up. We've got...about 15 galaxy knots away."

"H-how many days is a galaxy knot?"

"Days? Earth days? Uh...70?"

She blinked. "70 days?" She intoned.

"You didn't think we'd be there in the blink of an eye did you? Iohiri is across the galaxy. Thankfully this was one of our faster ships. It could've taken 8 summers."

"Like years?"

"Iohirian years," he expressed.

She sat back. "Damn."

He cupped her face, leaning in. "When we get to Iohiri I cannot allow you to shame me with all this work you like to do."

She raised her brow. "No work?"

"No work. No bombs. No viruses. No...rocks." He listed flatly. "You should find things to do until you're ready."

"For?" She asked.

"Our child," he said simply. "The only work you're allowed to do, and only because I can't."

"Don't tell me what I can't do," she raised her brows.

He narrows his eyes, "You are my partner. The person I have chosen. To create life with. The person I'm supposed to protect and provide for. You'll relax. You'll have fun. You won't work."

She narrows her eyes back. He put his finger on her forehead, pushing her gently.

"Don't challenge me on this. You won't win. I have been fighting since I came out of my mother's womb. You can fight me for it. But I'll win."

"You're gonna try to make me box you for the right to work?"

"Working isn't a privilege. Working for your life, for your livelihood for your happiness, isn't a privilege. It's...it's evidence of mistreatment. If you work, what do I do?"

"Work too?"

"What are you working for? We don't use the currency."

She frowned. "Then...how do you buy things?"

"We don't. If I want a house, I build it. If I want food, I hunt it. Because I am strong, and I do not require anyone to work for me," he said proudly.

"What if you couldn't?"

He sighed. "Then there are provisions for that. But that's for weak people. Do you think I'm weak? That I can't uphold my family unit on my own?" He pouted.

She rolled her eyes. "I just don't understand that concept. It's a cultural difference is all. Don't pout."

He sighed. "You are a precious existence on my planet. To burden you with work, when you already have the greatest burden, the ability to create life is shameful. I would be shamed. Do you want me to be shamed," he cursed in Iohirian.

"Fine, fine! Work till you die then. I'll just...do whatever women do on your planet? Let me guess? Have babies every year?"

"No, no. Most women are war counselors." He waved that away, "Some help with government and some are generals. They do assorted things, whatever they take interest in, but they don't work for their life."

"War counselor huh?" She smirked.

He paused. "I don't think you should be a war counselor."

"Why?"

"...I think you'll make wars worse."