Companionship - beyond flesh

Herbs in the Hortus

Scented herbs in beds lined with bricks of pure gold. As Max walked into the garden, he thought that, here, the herbs were far more valuable than the gold.  

Gold made up five percent of the heavy metal gas cloud in which the spherical refinery floated.  In the beginning, the people of the outpost thought that extracting this ever valuable element was a luxury, something to remind them that they were special and what they were doing was special. But over time, with bricks and paving laid in specular yellow, it was the mint, thyme and sage that they grew to cherish. These herbs represented the lost tastes and smells of their homeworld, Earth.

Max made his way down the steps between the beds. He noticed the wear marks many feet had made on the soft metal of the pathway giving the area an ancient look as if the hortus had been here for thousands of years.  Max could appreciate the value this place held to the people that were here before. He stopped by a bed of flowering lavender, picked a sprig of flowers, rolled them in his fingers and held them up to his nose. The smell was divine: sweet and musky, simply natural.

The golden hortus was the outpost's garden area and, he had learned through archive footage, that this area had become the heart of the community. But there was more; this recreational area took up three levels of the outpost, making for a cavernous space providing room for the garden, a tree-lined parkland with quaint rivulet and a massive green. Before Emma's takeover, the green was a large grassed area that the people used for weekly ball games. Now it was an extension of the garden with uniform rows of plants like one the large market nurseries Max was used to seeing lining building tops on Earth. He surveyed the garden for Emma and found her tending a row down in the green, her bronze shimmer more noticeable in the artificial sunlight contrasting with the dark foliage of the plants.

Ah crap; that would be about right, he said to himself not excited about the extra walk down to the field. He stood and watched as a chroma flicka drifted by, the dancing rainbow light distracting him -- a convenient excuse not to think about why he was here. Emma of course, knew he was there, she 'knew' everything except what he was thinking. He wondered if Emma was curious as to his need to talk with her, but if she was, she didn't show it, having ignored him so far.

He made his way down to the field and to where Emma was tending her plants, she spoke without looking up from her work at hand, "Max, you struck a plant in our room. I've analysed the scene, and it should be possible to replant it with minimal disruption to  growth if we do so within seventy-five minutes."

"Oh, sorry about that." he regretted his earlier outburst, only because it showed weakness to Emma.

She continued working methodically with the plants in the bed, pulling browned stems from healthy stalks, then moving on the next plant and the next. Each row in the field was about one hundred meters long and planted six plants deep. There were twelve rows. 

"Emma, I think that we should talk about Churchman."

"Why?"

"Um. I think it's cruel to keep a man hanging like that."

"Cruel?" Emma turned to Max and took a step closer towering over him, "Do you not think it was cruel that he killed Emma Yee?"

He took a step back, threatened. But determined to talk on,  "No, I don't know anything about him killing Emma Yee.  It's just that the way he's being treated; it's inhumane. Surely we can lock him in a room for punishment. But being pinned to a stake..."

"Crucifix. He is nailed to a crucifix." She corrected.

"Stake, crucifix, its all the same kind of torture! Not punishment!" He was starting to sweat and could feel panic anxiety welling. He took a hit of doze and immediately felt calmer. Then reached out to grasp Emma's arm.

She let him hold her and in turn placed her hand tenderly on his. 

"Max, I am touched by your compassion for this man, but my artwork still needs a focal point. It would not be the same without a body atop the pyramid. Why can we not let Churchman die? That way his suffering would end, and you will be happy. No?"

Oh my, Did she just ask me a question? And Max thought further in revelation,  She is listening to me. I can negotiate with her! "No Emma, I think we should take him down and give him his life back."

"Very well Max. I'll instruct Riggs to assist you with Churchman's rehabilitation. It will not be an easy task as he is physically very broken."

Max, being lost for words, nodded. "Thanks."  This was not how he had imagined the outcome of his meeting and, for the first time in decades; he felt powerful.  He felt that there was a genuine equality in his relationship with the goddess Emma. He thought to himself, perhaps this is where it all changes, where I'm no longer someone to be stepped on and put down.

For a split second, he thought about raising his concerns about her absolute influence over the auger Riggs,  but then considered that he didn't want to push his luck and would leave that conversation for another time.

Seemingly distracted, Emma stood tall and tilted her head to the side as if in consideration. "Interesting. There are two."

"Huh?" Max was confused.

"I have been expecting a new courier to enter the system at any time now. But I have just identified two starships phasing from warp, one courier class and one Ophiucian interceptor assault class."

"Huh?" Max was still confused.

"We have company Max. How exciting!"

"Company?"

"Yes. Now don't forget to re-pot the plant that you damaged in our room."