Androgeny

Androgeny

Chapter 3: New York, New York.

Two weeks after asking Big George to cash in their accounts and close up their rented apartment, प्रातः सूर्य (Morning Sun) and दिनं प्रभात इति (Day Dawning), also known as Bella and Gigi Stark, but carrying ID that named them Beyoncé and Solange Bonhomme, walked out of the Marriott in downtown Boston. They expected to walk to the bus station and buy tickets to travel to New York. As such, they'd dressed in their black leathers and knee-high, soft leather boots.

"Morning, Bella, Gigi," Brandon said, leaning against his Mercedes. "Your chariot awaits!"

"Brandon!" Morning and Day squealed as they ran to hug their erstwhile bodyguard/driver. "What are you doing here?" Morning added.

"George sold me the car at cost," Brandon said. Which, of course, didn't answer their question at all.

"Meaning?" Day asked.

"Meaning, I thought you might need a driver/bodyguard in New York."

Day and Morning exchanged glances. They turned to Brandon, and Day asked, "You want to move with us to New York?"

"If you'll have me," Brandon replied.

Morning took her mother's arm and dragged her aside. "Too dangerous," she whispered. Day looked at her wonderingly, so Morning added, "Not for us, him. There's no way he can stand up against a slaver."

Day nodded and said, "The less contact we have with anyone from our lives here, the better. I trust Daddy George, Eloise, and Antoinette, of course, but George is smart enough not to risk their lives if the slavers find and question them. He'll prevaricate and say that all he knows is that we left for New York, but he won't deny he knows and was involved with us. If they push, he'll admit he gave us the phone number of his contemporary there."

"And that won't matter because we won't look anything like we did here."

"But if Brandon's with us, they might figure it out. Especially if they push George hard enough and he admits he procured new IDs for us and what our names now are," Day added, completing their thoughts.

"Unless I change him, too, as well as changing us again."

"You would trust him with that knowledge?"

"Yes," Morning said, turning to face Brandon. "There's something about him. Something familiar. Like he's..."

"Family," Day completed. "Maybe he's descended from one of our Jarawa tribe members somewhere back in his history."

"Maybe," Morning replied. "I think we accept. We can always dump him when we get to New York. Besides, it might be best not to stay with our latest disguises for too long even if the slavers don't find and question Big Daddy George. With Brandon as our driver, we can probably set up our own agency and freelance rather than relying on others."

"Meaning you can chop and change our appearance to suit our client's needs," Day completed.

They turned back to Brandon, who was looking at them hopefully. Morning thought carefully about the muscular young man who'd been their constant companion since they'd started working for George. She turned back to her mother, "He's in love with you," Morning stated. "That's why he wants to come with us."

"Me?" Day asked. "Don't you mean you? I'm nearly twenty years older than you."

Morning asked dryly, "Which, over a three-and-a-half thousand-year lifetime, means exactly what, Mother?"

Day blushed, "You're right, of course. I forget he knows me as a twenty-nine-year-old Gigi Hadid lookalike."

Making a decision, Day turned to Brandon and said, "We'll accept your lift to New York, Brandon. But when we get there, we have many things to discuss before we can agree that you can stay."

"Some chance is better than no chance," Brandon agreed. "George has booked you into a double suite at The Marriott in downtown New York. He's paid for two weeks upfront but authorised another two if you need it."

"Why a double suite?" Morning asked curiously.

"In case you agreed that I could stay," Brandon replied, trying not to blush.

"Did you want to come, Brandon," Day asked. "Or did Big George ask you to?"

"I wanted to come," Brandon confessed. "But I would never have asked George to let me. I owe him too much to do that to him. Oh, not money, but for everything he's done for me. So, when George asked if I'd stay with you and be your bodyguard, I jumped at the chance. I have an introduction to Madame Sweet in my pocket. Along with the one for you two."

"Gawd, I love that man," Morning stated as tears sprung from her eyes. "I'm tempted to go back to the agency and fuck him unconscious one more time."

"Once we know it's safe," her mother replied. "We'll get him up to New York and spend a whole week trying to fuck him to death."

Brandon opened the car's trunk and took Day's and Morning's luggage from them. They hadn't packed much because they expected to travel by bus. Plus, their skin colour, faces and body shape would dramatically change when Morning used her shapeshifting power to alter their appearance, so there was little point in keeping too many clothes. Most of their luggage's weight was the two antique weapons, Day's Talwar sword and Morning's Parashu battle-axe, that they had carefully wrapped to disguise what they were.

Satisfied they were ready, Day and Morning got in the backseat and buckled up. Brandon glanced at Day in the rearview mirror, disappointed she hadn't got in beside him. Morning nudged her mother and nodded at Brandon. Day looked at her in surprise before turning to examine Brandon. Realising the muscular young man was disappointed she'd sat in the back, Day unbuckled again and moved to the front seat.

Although it is around a four-and-a-half to five-hour trip to New York, most of that time is spent getting out of Boston and into New York. Traffic was about average for their journey, and just within five hours, Brandon and his passengers pulled up at the drop-off point for the New York Marriott. Morning had taken the opportunity provided by the extra space to lie down and meditate during the trip. In her mind's eye, she saw five slavers sent by their clan chief boarding a private jet in Shannon, Ireland, on their way to Boston to investigate the lost emanations from the five slavers she and Day had exterminated. These five resembled the humans they passed amongst more closely than any slaver Morning had seen before.

After checking in, Day and Morning allowed Brandon to carry their bags up to the twelfth-floor suite Big George had gotten for them. As soon as they were in the door, Day pounced on Brandon and dragged him into the second bedroom. The suite was quickly filled with the sounds of two people fucking.

Unperturbed by the sounds, Morning lay on the bed in the other room and turned her mind inwards. She needed to learn more about how to fight these slavers. For millennia, Morning and her mother had fought to escape, fled, and re-established themselves elsewhere, only to be rediscovered and forced to run again. In this modern era, even when they had found somewhere they could safely stay, they were forced to move within twenty years lest their friends, co-workers, and neighbours realise the two women never aged or changed.

Now, the time had come to stop running and fight. Morning knew how to kill the slavers permanently--knowledge that had come to her during their time at the YMCA in Boston. The slavers had a glass-like crystal embedded in their foreheads. This crystal gave the slavers the power to regenerate and recuperate from any injury, including lost limbs. If the slaver died before the crystal was removed, they, along with an exact replica, were reborn at sunrise the following morning, thereby doubling their number.

Morning was deep into her meditation when she began hearing a voice. Even though it seemed distant and echoey, it was insistent. Turning her concentration to the voice, Morning heard, "प्रातः सूर्य, त्वं मम समीपम् अवश्यम् आगच्छसि! (Morning Sun, you must come to me!)" Morning concentrated harder, uncertain what the voice was. It repeated, "प्रातः सूर्य, त्वं मम समीपम् अवश्यम् आगच्छसि!"

"जले प्रकाशः स्फुरति (Light on the Water), is that you?" Morning asked. When she said that name, Morning saw a distant vision coalesce and fly toward her. It rushed up to her before stopping and expanding. When it stopped expanding, Morning saw her tribe's Medicine Man sitting cross-legged on a mat before her.

"उप- विश् (Sit)," Light said. "अस्माकं बहु चर्चा कर्तव्या अस्ति।. (We have much to discuss)."

With the power of dreams, Morning told her subconscious to automatically translate her... father, Morning remembered... her father's words into the English she was more accustomed to. She wasn't aware if she answered Light in English or Sanskrit, but it didn't matter because Light understood her anyway.

"Day has told you who your true father is?" Light asked. Morning nodded, and Light added, "That's why the latent abilities in you have sprung to life. Knowing who you are was the key to enlightenment I planted in you upon your creation."

Morning examined the man before her. Light was ancient before Morning's mother had lain with him, creating her, she realised. She remembered hushed discussions about how old Light actually was. Some of the elders, hundreds of years old themselves, spoke of Light being the tribe's medicine man when their fathers' fathers were young.

Morning recalled the morning Light and her husband were slaughtered by the invading Gaelic Slavers. The shouts from Light's hut on his island had brought the warriors from their tents. Because the Jangil clan of the Jarawa people had lived peacefully in this valley for more than three hundred years, they'd gotten lax in their security. That laxity meant the slavers were on them before the warriors could react.

Two of the slavers held Light between them as the third shouted, summoning the rest of the clan from their tents. As the warriors, led by Morning's husband and mate, गरुड स्वूपिंग (Eagle Swooping), charged for Light's hut, the third slaver gutted the medicine man as if he were a pig at the slaughter. Morning, mated for less than a year when Light died, howled in despair as Light's bright blue eyes held hers before flickering and turning opaque. Morning believed she saw Light's spirit standing whole and very much alive above his butchered body before it streaked in a flash of light towards the heavens. Morning kept that vision to herself because she felt Light didn't want it known.

The Jangil Clan of the Jarawa tribe warriors fought bravely but were outnumbered and outmuscled by the larger, stronger Gaelic Slavers. More than half of the warriors were dead in the first skirmish. Eagle Swooping recalled his fighters briefly before forming the phalanx they knew was their only chance against the slavers. Eagle, the clan chief, stood at the point of the phalanx.

Morning, as the chief's wife and mate, along with her mother, Day, gathered the women and children in the centre of the village as the older men, warriors past fighting age, and younger men, those not old enough to have undergone their coming-of-age ceremonies, encircled them, ready to fight to the death in a last stand to protect them.

Standing in the outer circle, Morning watched her husband lead the fight into the slavers' midst. Initially, it seemed like the Jangil Clan warriors would take the battle. Unfortunately, just as the phalanx's tip broke through the slavers' line, a lucky blow from a felled slaver split Eagle's stomach open.

Morning howled in rage as her husband staggered and fell. As the phalanx collapsed, with the rear fighters turning and running, Morning snatched a Parashu battle-axe from one of the older men. Then, screaming louder than the banshees the slavers were all too familiar with, she charged into their ranks.

The axe spun in her hands as Morning slashed left and right, felling slavers with every strike. Emboldened by their clan chief's mate's bravery, the warriors turned to fight with her. As she passed Eagle, Morning snatched his bloodied headdress. Pulling it onto her head, she screamed, "No slaver survives today!" and dove into the middle of the second rank of Gaelic fighters.

Even though they were outnumbered nearly two-to-one and outmuscled by the much more powerful slavers, it made no difference. Morning's speed, dexterity with her weapon, and ferociousness overcame any deficiencies, and all slavers who came up against her died. Inspired by their dead chief's mate and shrugging off wounds that should have disabled them, the warriors attacked and attacked until every slaver lay dead or mortally wounded on the ground.

The Jangil clan survived that day, but the cost was horrendous. More than eighty per cent of the warriors were either dead or would die because of their injuries. The clan's only Medicine Man had died with them, so there was no help or succour for the injured. Morning knew that even some of the fighters with lesser injuries would develop sepsis and probably die also.

With a heavy heart, Morning instructed the older men and the fit warriors to drag the slavers' bodies outside the village and burn them and to gather their slain warriors and prepare them for burial. Morning straightened her shoulders, and faking stoicism, she walked to her husband's prone body. Her mother, Day, joined her, and they took Eagle to his and Morning's tent.

The burial rituals were completed by mid-morning the following day. Morning wanted to lie in her tent and grieve for her lost love, but circumstances didn't allow her to. A delegation of the clan's elders asked to speak with her. Even though it was uncommon, Morning's actions in attacking and defeating the slavers had temporarily made her clan chief. Hiding her sorrow, Morning sat with the elders and listened to their concerns.

The eldest of the elders, मत्स्य कूर्दनम् (Fish Jumping) spoke first. He explained the problems with killing the slavers. Although he hadn't seen it himself because the last attack had been more than four hundred years previously, he'd heard the stories of villages being re-invaded a week or two after battling and defeating the slavers. The slavers returned with twice their numbers, easily overcoming the now tired and wounded people they'd lost to in the earlier battle. They'd enslave the younger warriors and childbearing-aged women and slaughter the rest. The tribe had to flee, Fish insisted. It would be better if they abandoned this area, better still, if they fled the entire region.

Some of the younger elders (Morning wondered about that seemingly oxymoronic phrase) argued for staying still, pointing out they'd been safe where they were for more than three hundred years and that there were no survivors to guide the slavers back to here.

Both arguments were sound, Morning thought. But which way lay wisdom? She promised to think about it but swiftly decided that caution should win the day. Ordering the warriors to scout the way, Morning told the village to pack what they needed for an extended trip. By late the following morning, the tribe was on the move.

Eventually, many years later, Morning's scouts led the tribe to land's end in what is now called Southern Myanmar. Her Jangil clan lived in that region for another two hundred years, but a vision informed Morning that the slavers had discovered their village. Escaping across the water, the Jangil clan of the Jarawa people became the first of their tribe to inhabit The Andaman Islands.

The vision had predicted her clan's almost immediate rediscovery if Morning led them there. Meeting with the Circle of Elders, Morning told of her vision. The Circle agreed that she had to abandon the tribe for the tribe's sake. The Elder Circle would choose he who they thought should be the new Clan Chief. In the ensuing seven days, any warrior who believed it should be them could challenge The Circle's choice. At the end of the seven days, the one remaining standing would be named chief.

All of the above raced through Morning's mind as she obediently sat like Light had demanded. A mat appeared under her shapely bottom as she sat.

"What are you?" Morning asked. She stared into Light's blue eyes and, for the first time, wondered, 'Blue eyes? No one else in the clan has anything other than dark brown, almost black eyes. How does Light have blue ones? And none have his tanned but relatively pale skin.'

"I am from those who came before," Light replied. "My proper name is Lanner, and I'm from Providia, a planet in a star system many, many light years from here. Our spaceship crash-landed on Earth over sixty thousand years ago. I was, until the Aridian Slavers killed me, the last surviving pure-blood Providian on Earth."

"Aridian Slavers?" Morning questioned.

"Those you call Gaelic Slavers."

"They're not from Ireland somewhere?"

"No," Light explained. "They're from Aridia, a planet my people have been at war with for nearly sixty-five thousand years."

Awed, Morning asked, "How old are you?"

Light/Lanner chuckled, "I had so many years I could no longer remember. I do remember that I was only a boy when we abandoned our home planet and fled into the stars. We travelled for millennia, looking for somewhere safe we could stay. We'd find somewhere we thought was secure, and somehow, the Aridians would find us, and we'd be forced to flee again.

"Finally, we found Earth, but our ships were old, and many were damaged. Our engineers underestimated our ship's strength and the effect of Earth's atmosphere on them. We lost three of our four ships on entry into Earth's atmosphere. The other ship crashed into what became Mesopotamia. Less than ten thousand of us survived the crash. Hoping to keep hidden from the Aridians, we spread across this planet, integrating with the indigenous humanoids as we moved. We were safe here on Earth for nearly forty thousand years. But, as they always seem to do, the Aridians arrived here. That was around twenty thousand years ago. Since then, they've returned every two to three hundred years to gather more slaves to take to Aridia.

"That was until recently. Around two and a half thousand years ago, the Aridians set up a permanent base in Ireland and have been enslaving fewer humans more often ever since. As human society developed, the Aridians adapted their methods to suit the changing times. Even as little as a hundred years ago, they would take entire villages before killing and disposing of those who were of no use to them. Now, they take a few from here, and a few from there, spreading it across the globe, to ensure human law enforcement never realises it is all part of one central organisation."

"I have questions, Light," Morning hesitatingly said.

Light chuckled and said, "Such as, how am I here talking to you now? And how do I know all of this?"

"That will do, to begin with," Morning laughed back.

"I was killed, Morning," Light replied as the smile slid from his face. "The pain I felt when the sword stabbed into my stomach was excruciating. But there was a flash of light, and suddenly, I felt no pain. I saw you across the water and saw that you saw me, yet when I looked down, I could see my dying body. I couldn't do anything to help and couldn't stay near my body, so I fled.

"Later, as I drifted through the space between this plane and the next, a group of Elders found me. Elders, some of whom I recognised from my youth, who gave me a choice. Cross over to the next realm and wait with my family to be reborn, or remain in the world between and try to help my descendants. Clearly, I chose to stay. And now that you have awakened, I can help and guide you, train your powers, and teach you what you need to know to rid this existence of the Aridian Slaver scourge.

"Those who die in the slave pits of Aridia, their souls are forever cast into the darkness. Never to see their loved ones again, never to be reborn, and never to walk in their God's light. You must fight and defeat these soulless enslavers, Morning. You must!"