Oct 27th, 2279
Procrastination was no longer an option for Richard. With Orla's pregnancy reaching the six-month mark, her slender figure appearing almost ready to deliver, he had a pressing issue to tackle.
"You're being irrational," he chided himself internally. "Brenda and you parted ways nearly 150 years ago.” Yet, he was aware that Brenda would not perceive it in the same light. The revelation of Orla's pregnancy, if discovered independently, would feel like a betrayal to her - an unpleasant eventuality which he had to prevent. This impending sense of betrayal was one reason why he had initially chosen to conceal Orla's existence.
Their encounters were now limited to council meetings, with the discussions often morphing into unavoidable confrontations. Despite the ongoing adversities, he understood Brenda’s hope of rekindling their bond, someday when he might begin relating to her perspective on life and its endless possibilities.
After battling the internal turmoil, Richard decided to communicate with Brenda. He sent her an invitation for a meeting three hours hence, a time slot that Janice confirmed Brenda would be available. Without wasting any further time, Richard commenced creating a conducive ambiance reminiscent of the turn of the millennium German underground pub – a neutral territory.
They had spent countless hours at the pub during their youth. The nostalgia served as a reminder of the times when they were nothing more than friends indulged in enthusiastic research. Those were the days before Brenda saved his life, before they emerged as lovers, and ultimately, adversaries.
Richard stalled, studying the face he had avoided looking at for more than a century. He noticed the subtle touches of slight Asian descent around her nose and hazel eyes, with a strong German jaw. A taut, pert breast that had still been attractive when she was an 80-year-old human. She was more handsome than pretty but quite charming and capped off by lush chestnut hair that was almost always tied back sternly in a tight ponytail. Despite modest stature, she commanded attention with her presence. Theirs had always been a love of the mind, and when their beliefs diverged, their love parted ways.
Richard meticulously recreated the setting—deeply scarred mahogany tables, a corner-stage ska band's softly muted, a cobblestone floor embedded with authentic reminiscences of decades past. An environment that could incite a humorous response. The frosty covered steins ready to serve viciously dark lagers and the soft glow from the table candle dancing in synchrony with the chandelier’s radiant rhythm, all recreated the past devoid of romantic subtleties.
Brenda made her entrance, clad in the usual lab coat. To set the tone, Richard boldly made the call to have Janice transition Brenda's attire to jeans and a white T-shirt. While colonists would not think twice about the unusual clothing swap, Immortals still held a concept of personal boundaries.
Richard was bracing himself for an onslaught of reproach right off the bat. But Brenda, defying his expectations, merely took a seat, her gaze focused on Richard, silently urging him to initiate the conversation.
As the silence stretched on, it began to feel almost palpable. Brenda showed no signs of helping Richard, apparently enjoying watching him squirm without knowing why they were meeting.
Taking a deep breath, Richard finally spoke up. "There's something I need to tell you." The conversation would not be an easy one. After all the history they had shared, Richard wanted transparency, but it felt like wielding a scalpel. He knew he needed to make a cut, and that there would be a wound. Knowing that he would have to make a second, much deeper cut only made it that much harder for Richard to start.
Richard attempted to advance sideways towards the truth, stammering out a few sentences until he finally mentioned Orla's name. At that moment, a tablet materialized in Brenda's hand, and her focus immediately shifted to it. The Halo's glow intensified, with an enormous amount of data going back and forth on the screen. Eventually, Brenda screamed, "22!" without looking up at him. Richard could feel the judgment as Brenda processed what he was telling her.
"How did you get Janice to give you a waiver?" Brenda asked without waiting for an answer, still looking at the screen.
Brenda then arrived at the part of the story where they were podded and Orla was pregnant. Richard watched as Brenda's body slumped, and she fell silent for a minute. A few tears slipped down her face, but she quickly regained her composure and wiped them away. Richard recognized the telltale signs; Brenda's rage would soon build and be unleashed, unlike the rational arguments from council meetings. It had been over two centuries since he'd been on the receiving end of one of her tirades.
"To a kid, Richard! You've moved on to a child?!" Brenda's voice echoed through the pub. "And here I was, thinking we were fixing things. Reforming our bond, damned fool I was."
Richard couldn't help but think, "When the hell was that?" They had been at each other's throats for a century. However, he was smart enough not to voice his thoughts aloud, especially not now when Brenda's anger was simmering and about to explode.
"Brenda, it's not like that," Richard pleaded, attempting to find a middle ground. "This isn't about us. This isn't about you and me. It's about me finding another path."
"But why? Why her, Richard?" Brenda's voice lowered to a whisper, her fury burning out, leaving only a haunting pain.
The unexpected turn petrified Richard even further. He had witnessed Brenda's fury and had even been outmaneuvered by her in the past, but this defeatism - this was something he had never seen before. Richard had no idea what to expect from her next.
"Why a blue hued child?" Brenda asked, her voice laced with bitterness. "Throughout all these centuries, across all our differences, wasn't our bond more substantial than an inexperienced infatuation?"
Richard had no answer that could soften the blow, no balm to offer. Both of their Immortal minds were exploring in diverse directions, leaving them on separate life rafts in the vast sea of the universe. Brenda's hopes for rekindling their bond were now completely extinguished, replaced by frosty resentment.
She rose and pushed her chair in a little too aggressively. Her lab coat reemerged as she said, "Thank you for telling me," in a voice without any tone. She then silently walked out of the door with heavy steps. Richard was now officially terrified, not knowing what to expect next. If there was one person in the universe you didn't want as a real enemy it was Brenda.