Taras Ramses: Guardian of Earth

Chapter 6. Cambodia

"Actually, it's a stretch to call the 'Veselka-2' space expedition a voyage into deep space," I began, leaning back against the small metal walls of our lifeboat cabin. The Navigator and Paradise sat across from me, their eyes gleaming with curiosity. They were waiting for a story—a space odyssey full of wonder and close calls. And as they listened, the Navigator would occasionally glance down at a screen resembling an old radar, charting our path through a water tunnel deep beneath the earth.

"We flew out toward the northernmost edge of our galaxy," I continued, "to a place called Coma Berenices. There, we planned to break into the Black Eye Galaxy, M64, its nucleus wrapped in a dense, dark cloud of interstellar dust."

Paradise's voice broke through my narrative, her gaze soft and distant. "Coma Berenices," she murmured, drawing out each syllable as though savoring the taste of the words. "What a beautiful name..."

"The legend behind it is even more beautiful," I replied. "The name honors Berenice II, Ptolemy's queen. When he went to battle during the Third Syrian War, she vowed to sacrifice her hair as an offering if he returned safely. True to her word, she placed her tresses in Aphrodite's temple, and by the next day, they had disappeared. It's said that the goddess lifted them into the heavens, making her hair a constellation as thanks."

"How do you know these things?" Paradise asked, clearly intrigued.

"It's nothing," the Navigator muttered with a shrug, his tone dismissive. "Part of the standard academic course on Earth's history."

"Yes, exactly," I said, giving Paradise a knowing look. "And, by the way, this man here"—I gestured toward the Navigator—"was one of the masterminds behind the expedition."

I turned to him, recalling an old memory that felt like a lifetime ago. "Remember the cognac we drank before departure? What was it called? Remind me."

The Navigator looked over, his expression a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. "Cognac? After 120 years in cryo, you think I remember something that trivial?" He turned his back, feigning intense focus on the radar screen. From what I could make out, we were somewhere near Turkey by then.

"Taras, would you mind helping me with the food supplies?" Paradise asked, her tone polite but a little too urgent.

"Of course," I replied, rising to follow her into the cramped galley. There, amidst stacked boxes and equipment, she stopped suddenly, placing a gentle hand on my arm. She raised a finger to her lips, signaling silence.

"Have you noticed anything odd about the Navigator's behavior?" she whispered.

I nodded. "Yes, actually. Something's definitely off."

She looked at me, eyes widening as if in relief. "So, you noticed too."

"It's obvious," I replied in a low voice. "His left knee. And the cognac... he would never forget 'Desna.' It's like forgetting the name of a first love."

Paradise's brow furrowed. "What about his left knee?"

I took a deep breath. "It's a long story."

"A tale from Earth's history course, I assume?" Paradise's eyebrows arched in mock impatience.

"Absolutely," I replied, a hint of irony in my tone. "It's about a man named Odysseus, who returned home after twenty years away. No one recognized him—except his old nurse. She knew him by a scar on his knee, a mark left by a boar's tusk."

Paradise waited, her curiosity tinged with impatience. "And the Navigator?"

"His knee should bear a scar—a deep one from a centrifuge accident. That scar was never supposed to fade. They replaced part of his knee with titanium, and the doctor told him the mark would remain forever."

Paradise's mouth is set in a firm line. "You're sure it's not there?"

"Positive. I saw him in shorts just before we left the cryo chamber. His left knee is flawless."

"Well, that's hardly proof," she replied, her voice cautious. "Medical technology has advanced... it's possible he could've had some operation."

I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper. "He's been in that cryo chamber since I left on the mission. There's no way he had time for an operation."

Paradise exhaled, her face pale. "And you're certain he knew who you were?"

"Without a doubt. He greeted me, he knew my mission, even the codes matched."

Paradise hesitated, glancing back toward the cabin. "He found me too, after you returned. He told me we didn't have much time and led me out through some secret passage beneath the pavilion. He knew every path."

"And he was able to exit the cryo chamber alone?" I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief.

"There was no time to ask him how. He passed the code meter, and he... he knew the password."

I looked at her, my heart pounding in my chest. "What was the password?"

She paused, and for the first time, her voice trembled. "Cambodia."

*********

As we returned to the Navigator's cabin, Paradise and I met his wide grin and intense gaze. "I'll toast this underground road to Cambodia with a few glasses of good old Ukrainian cognac," he declared, holding up a bottle of his beloved "Desna" brand.

Paradise and I exchanged glances. I stayed silent, but she frowned slightly and muttered, "I was hoping for just that." We'd stocked up on peas and lemons for snacks to accompany the cognac, just as he liked.

In her hands, Paradise held a Chinese lacquered tray, elegantly arranged with small dishes for pots and lemon slices. The Navigator gave her a quick look, raising his glass with a poised hand and a smirk. "You knew exactly what we'd be drinking, didn't you?" he teased, eyeing her knowingly.

Paradise chuckled, setting down the tray. "Of course. A man never forgets the name of his favorite cognac—just like he doesn't forget the name of a first love."

At that moment, we raised a silent toast to Paradise, who moved with the grace of a good wife among trusted friends, lifting her own glass with a slight nod to the Navigator. "You're a good woman, Paradise," he said after taking a hearty sip of cognac and biting into a lemon slice.

"As steady as your left knee, no doubt," Paradise replied coolly, her gaze sharpening as she spoke.