Kyou Kara Maou – Space Oddity

Summary: Shouri's demon tribe abandoned Earth, taking refuge in Shin Makoku, as Earth's weather went insane, and a second purple moon appeared. But one Earth demon stayed behind – an astronaut linked to Wolfram.

Author's Notes:

This is a sequel to Well of the Five Kings, wherein Earth was evacuated, and renegade nymphs (archangels) created a new moon – above all the alternate worlds. My KKM future saga began with The Bedding of Wolfram and Epilogue. It veered off from the series just before the end of season 2, and ignores season 3. See author's profile homepage link for story summaries, illustrations, OC bios, the story list in order, etc.

I don't know how much of that is necessary to understand Space Oddity, though.

This chapter dedicated to methos21 – thanks for playing! Yeah, I know you wanted Disaster Up North finished first, but...

Update, 2009-07-01: Oops – I hadn't written a summary yet for Well5Kings, had I... Now it's there. Sorry...

Update, 2009-07-08: Expanded physical descriptions of our Earthlings. (Thanks, DemiDaemon – good point!)

Disclaimers: Kyou Kara Maou is not mine. Its original creator was Tomo Takabayashi, with character design by Temari Matsumoto. The anime was produced by Studio Deen.

The song Space Oddity is by David Bowie, Major Tom (Coming Home) by Peter Schilling. I like its recording by Shiny Toy Guns, on YouTube.

Chapter 1 – Major Tom

Standing there alone
the ship is waiting
all systems are go
are you sure?
control is not convinced
but the computer

has the evidence
"no need to abort"
the countdown starts

4 3 2 1

(from Major Tom(Coming Home))

-oOo-

The first night, when Wolfram woke from the dreams drenched in sweat, he clutched Yuuri, and demanded sex to distract himself. Yuuri was concerned, but not unwilling to help.

The second night, Wolfram didn't wake. It wasn't that he tossed and turned more than usual. His quiet moaning and mumbling were far less athletic than his usual night-time gyrations. But any change from the normal routine disturbed Yuuri's sleep. Or at least, that's what he told himself, why he kept waking. Some of Wolfram's murmurs he could almost understand, but not quite. Surely that was what put Yuuri on edge. Well, that and the fact that Wolfram looked hag-ridden in the morning, when Yuuri managed to rouse him. His eyes sunk in dark circles. He dragged into his day too tired to show interest in anything.

That afternoon was when Garena began lurking about.

Yuuri and his Eleven Aristocrats still hadn't yet come to terms with Garena, their new so-called 'Prince of Darkness'. They were unanimously insulted at the very idea that the nymphs – archangels – felt themselves entitled to appoint a successor to Shinou. They dreamt up cutting retorts to rebuff his orders. But Garena didn't attempt to issue any orders. They assured each other that he'd receive only a cold shoulder in response to inquiries. But Garena rarely asked questions. And he didn't often answer them. He just... appeared now and then, looking keenly interested. Yuuri found this unnerving as hell, especially because he looked even more like Wolfram than Shinou had. In an act of brave kingly leadership, Yuuri settled on calling the nymph/demon/whatever, 'Grandfather'.

"Hullo, Grandfather," Yuuri greeted Garena, suddenly appeared in the back corner of his office, where Yuuri was meeting with his brother Shouri, father Shouma, Conrad, and Gwendal. "Is there something we can do for you?"

Garena shrugged. He perched on a short file cabinet, chin on fist. On Wolfram, Yuuri would have quite approved the James Dean style black leathers and tight jeans his grandfather had adopted as his 'Prince of Darkness' look. But on Garena it seemed ominous. No doubt that was his intent.

"Anything unusual happening?" Garena asked casually.

Yuuri, Conrad, Gwendal, and Shouma stonewalled him. Oh, let's see. A month ago, twenty thousand refugees landed here from another world, and they're not really acclimating to life in a semi-medieval feudal kingdom. Nope, nothing much going on.

Shouri was clueless as usual. "Well, Wolfram looks like death warmed over." The other men shot him dagger looks.

Garena nodded thoughtfully. He gestured for them to carry on, Don't mind me.

Gwendal growled, "Why are you here, Garena?"

"The nymphs had a question."

They gazed at him expectantly. He gazed back.

Eventually Conrad posited, "But, you're not going to tell us the question."

Garena considered this. "Well, I might if you knew the answer. But you don't. And I'm still discovering the question." The men glanced at each other. "Wolfram suggested I be more forthcoming," Garena offered, by way of meta explanation. The men did not appear any happier. "Where is Wolfram?"

"Taking a nap. He's tired," Yuuri replied. He turned decisively to Shouri to resume their discussion on modern Earthling vocational options in Shin Makoku.

Garena vanished at some point. Others mentioned later that he'd turned up here and there about the place.

Wolfram slept through dinner. Upon consultation, Giesela found nothing wrong, and suggested they let him sleep. He did seem awfully tired.

-oOo-

One of the great perks of being reinstated in the ESA, reflected Major Guy Tom, with the gallows humor he shared with fellow Brit survivors of the last few years of hell on Earth. My own satellite phone. I can be placed on 'hold', just like Before.

Other nationalities had more elaborate phrases for it, BCC (Before Climate Change, which Guy deplored as inaccurate), AI (After Industrialization, though many quipped it meant After the Internet, given the withdrawal symptoms), Preco and Paco (for Pre and Post Apocalypse), etc. But it suited the British stiff-upper-lip to downplay the recent psychotic break in the orderly march of history, as simply 'Before' and 'After'.

Aged 37, Guy looked younger, for he was fully buffed, an athlete in constant training. Not bulky, his physique aspired to the ideal of Michelangelo's masterpiece David. Writ smaller than David, though, for he was only about 5'8", with light bones underlying the muscle. And his shining blond hair wasn't curly so much as cowlicky, kept short on the sides, but long enough for the cowlicks to dance into a criss-cross thatch on top. His classic build was well-displayed now, golden brown tan oiled by a sheen of sweat, adorned with RAF dog-tags and a high-tech platinum ID bracelet. It was too hot in their London flat to wear anything else over his old air force workout shorts.

Guy sat up abruptly as a click on the line preceded a Swiss voice. "Yes? You're sure? And you've found no one at all in Switzerland from DTI? No. Yes, thank you very much. You've been a great help." Guy clicked off and sat there, staring at the chunky phone in his hands.

"Unable to locate your 'demon' friends in Switzerland, either, Guy? Bad luck," commiserated his husband Rhys.

"Yes, rather," replied Guy. "I'm afraid that was my best hope. The chairman of DTI was a cousin of mine. But apparently their HQ was leveled in the first days, in those tornados on the continent. Surprised we didn't hear about it, after all that publicity about DTI biobuses, and the Chunnel incident."

"Clamped down on bad news for morale, then, didn't they," pointed out Rhys. "Pity about your cousin, though. Sorry, chap. Maybe in a year or so, you can get hold of someone intelligent in Japan." He didn't suggest the States. A year or so would be overly optimistic, for order to re-emerge in the States.

They went to Switzerland, all the EU demon tribe. To be evacuated off-world to where we came from, Shouri said, thought Guy. What a load of rubbish, I thought. Well, for their sakes, I hope it was true. If not, they were all killed in a tornado. Either way.

"How do you come by a Japanese cousin, anyway?" Rhys interrupted his brooding again. Guy Tom was blond with wide and vivid green eyes. Part German, Rhys could easily believe. But if Guy had even a drop of Asian blood, it was well hidden.

"Oh, well, you know us demons," Guy casually tossed off. It wasn't so much that Guy had confided in Rhys about being a 'demon', as that Rhys believed it a standing joke. "German grandfather, stationed in Tokyo before World War II, took a bride. Forced to leave her and the kids during the war. Signals got crossed, and they thought each other was dead. Didn't find out otherwise for years. By then they were both remarried with more kids. Shouri – the bloke in Switzerland – his Dad's my first cousin. Knew the Dad better than Shouri, really – Shibuya Shouma. International banker. Always dropped in when he passed through London, checked up on me, since my Mum died. Too kind, you know how the Japanese are. His wife Miko, too, a card every birthday. No telling where they were when it all came down. Tokyo, Basel. Hopefully not New York."

Guy interrupted his own musing, "Hang on, Rhys – why are you still here? Shouldn't you go hunker in a bunker by now?"

It was half past nine, long past time for his husband Rhys to have cycled off to work. Rhys was a physicist and modeller. Gone with all the other niceties of Before, were the days of telecommuting to the supercomputers on a home leased terabit line. These days, he had to visit the beast in person, in a hardened London bunker with fortified dedicated power plant. Cycling hurt – he'd lost a foot to gangrene in the bad first year After. But it was Rhys who insisted they live in London's gay Soho neighborhood. His famously out gay astronaut husband helped boost community spirit. Rhys was like that.

Rhys limped over and draped his arms around Guy's neck from behind. Four years his husband's senior, on the other side of 40, perhaps only Guy would find Rhys Thomas, PhD, beautiful anymore. His playful dark brown ringlets had turned mostly iron grey during the gangrene episode, and were cropped short now. His prominent, intent grey eyes had grown almost protuberant in his gaunt face. He'd always been lean, a rangy kind of fitness compared to Guy's ripped musculature. Now Rhys was downright bony. Emaciated, Guy chose not to think.

"Well, I've taken a holiday, haven't I?" Rhys said. "Your last day of freedom before countdown quarantine –"

"It's hardly quarantine!" Guy laughed.

"I should hope not! But all that enforced clean living." Rhys gave a melodramatic shudder. "Excessive training, healthy eating. I wouldn't put it past them to say we can't have sex anymore at D-day minus three –"

"Oh, let them try! They'd have a grand time inspecting compliance on that one, wouldn't they?"

Rhys made a playful grab at Guy's crotch, expertly intercepted to convert to a caress. "Oh, don't be so certain! They've tests for everything, you know! And you can be sure it's a homophobic old hag they'll find, to gleefully insert something to check. Oh, yes! We'd best make sure it was worth it, then, shan't we. And tonight I've invited the boys round for a few pints at the local, sort of a bon voyage while you can still get stinking drunk and par-ty."

Guy leaned his head back to behold his husband's face, upside-down. "You're too good to me, Rhys."

"No, it's an investment. Can always get another husband, can't I. Space ships to study my darling Oddity, though – won't get another of those."

The mirth drained from Guy's dancing green eyes. "No," he agreed. Another space ship would be hard to come by, indeed. The infrastructure that built this one was gone. Another astronaut would take time as well. Guy had an understudy, in theory. In practice, if Guy couldn't go, most likely the mission would be scrubbed. His second really wasn't qualified yet. This was no glorified passenger astronaut job, where they sent up a school teacher on a publicity stunt. Guy was the real deal – test pilot, engineer, tech, and married to the principal investigator. He knew the scientific experimental rig as well as the spacecraft. He understood what little they knew about the sudden apparition of the new second purple moon, and all the anomalies, to a degree far beyond most non-physicists.

The moon that ushered in the end of civilization as they knew it, and changed the world forever. And killed off a third of mankind, so far as they could tell. Two billion people. Gone. All due to a space anomaly they didn't understand. Maybe. Probably. Though they didn't know how. Yet.

Rhys' arms tightened uncomfortably around Guy's neck, giving the lie to his laughing words. "You'll have to come back to me. Promise, now. That data is irreplaceable, you know."

"It's alright, love," Guy whispered. "It's all good. I know the ground crew's not what it was. But they're solid. I'm solid."

Rhys swallowed audibly. They'd watched them finish building this craft, underfed, no reliable power, fighting off the doomsday loons. "Dear God, Guy, if I've sent you to your death –"

Guy shook his head emphatically. "You don't send me anywhere, Rhys Thomas. I'm an astronaut. I go. Because it's important. Here, now, we're not going to neurose about this from now til liftoff –"

"Some respect for the King's English, please. 'To neurose' is not a verb."

"You knew what I meant. Tuesday at 8:00 pm, to end at 8:08 sharp. All the neurosing we can fit into eight minutes, an absolute orgy. We'll cry and wail, we'll tear our hair and rent our shirts, fall to our knees and pray. But only eight minutes. I won't have a second more. Understood?"

Rhys sniffed a little, but forced his anxious grip to relax into a playful hug. "Too right. Eight on Tuesday, I'll pencil you in. But today. You are going to break training with me, play all day, eat everything in sight that you're not allowed to, have mad sex with me, get utterly sloshed tonight. Wet t-shirts at the pub –"

"Not wet t-shirts."

"Absolutely wet t-shirts, and worse! But first, I need to start baking the chocolate cake."

"You're making it up. There's no chocolate left in Europe. We'd need another mortgage to buy sugar."

Rhys nibbled his ear, and whispered. "Just watch me. In the kitchen. Right now. Chocolate cake."

"I love you!"

"I thought you might."

-oOo-

"Rhys," Wolfram murmured in his sleep. "Love you. To the moon and back..."

They all heard him say it. Yuuri, Giesela, Conrad, Gwendal, Cecilie, Annissina, Greta – they all huddled around his bedside. Because Wolfram couldn't be roused the next morning, no matter what they tried. Of course, only two of them spoke English without translator-kun stuck in their ears.

"He's speaking in an English accent," Yuuri exclaimed. "Did he just say 'to the moon and back'?"

-oOo-

Ground Control to Major Tom
Take your protein pills
and put your helmet on

Ground Control to Major Tom
Commencing countdown,
engines on
Check ignition
and may God's love be with you

Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One, Liftoff

(from Space Oddity)

-oOo-

AN: So, think this story has promise? Please review! Reviews fuel further chapters (or another story...)

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