Chapter 38: A Mother's Love
Diana knew he was there before she even turned around. Even here, in her own dominion within Todash space, where the apple trees blossomed and the air was permeated with lilac, and the weather was in permanent limbo between spring and summer. Even here where she reigned supreme, where reality could be bent easily to her will. Even being what she was; immortal and eternally youthful, her age and powers far exceeding the man that was daring to walk behind her. Even with all that, she still felt a small prickle of fear.
"Legion," Diana said his name harshly, turning to face him.
The man in black stopped, his face hidden by the shadow of his hood and by the shade of the apple tree under which he stood. "My father was called by that moniker," he said thoughtfully. "Told me a story once about how he met the Man Jesus in the country of Gadarenes and was made to dwell within a herd of pigs." He frowned, his face ponderous. "Or perhaps that was me after all. It becomes rather hard to remember certain things after a few thousand years."
"You are Maerlyn's bastard," Diana spat. "That is all."
The dark man's frown reversed itself and he smiled tauntingly. "If I am a bastard than what does that make the child you are carrying?"
Diana wrapped an arm around her now still flat stomach, shielding the life within from his penetrating stare. A retort almost rose to her lips, but she bit it down quickly, lest she divulge her secret, one that would surely send the entire might of the Red crashing down around her ears.
Walter's smile widened, revealing his true demonic nature. "So you still won't say who the father is? Perhaps we should put you on the Maury Show? Let the DNA show who the father is." He looked her up and down with his invisible eyes, taking in her beauty. "He must have been quite a man to be able to seduce you."
"He did not seduce me," Diana replied coldly, her blue eyes turning into slits.
The dark man shrugged. "I care not if you spread your legs like a common slut. The identity of the father is no concern of mine. At least not now in any case." Diana felt the tension ease within her, but kept her face blank and emotionless. "What I do care about is where you are going to have him." He looked around the orchard with an expression of mild boredom. "You can't have him here, as lovely as your domain is. He will grow, and his curiosity will eventually be the end of him. You can protect him here, but you cannot protect him from the demons that lie in wait in the abyss outside of your realm. This you already know I'm sure."
"Why?" Diana asked. She knew where Walter was heading, and Legion did not offer anything without a price.
"We want you out of the way," the dark man said cheerfully. "Personally I don't see what the fuss is about. You are a goddess of peace after all. You would never oppose us with violence or move with direct action. Of course this particular ethical stance does not stop the suffering of children who you were tasked by Gan to protect, but you seem to be too far set in your ways to change. Nevertheless, your influence within the worlds is still great, and my master wishes to see that ended."
Diana showed no hint of emotion, but within her a battle raged with swords drawn and bows held taut, the armies of duty and her need to protect her son battling each other to the death. She kept her voice steady as she spoke, "Where?"
Walter grinned victoriously. He took his time in answering, plucking an apple from the overhead tree with smooth wax like hands. He took a large bite out of it, the juice running down his face. His eyes never wavered from Diana as he chewed slowly. "Safe," he said at last. "My mother has chosen a world. Bit of a backwater. Nothing of importance there, though the citizens of that world still squabble over their petty differences like crewmen rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, but that is true with all worlds. Your son will be safe and be able to live a peaceful life. I promise."
"Your promises mean nothing to me," Diana said.
"True," the man in black admitted. "But would you rather take a chance with the first option?" He took another bite of the apple, chuckling merrily.
…
Diana was led down an endless labyrinth of winding white hallways, the lights overhead glaring angrily at her, the wheels of the hospital gurney squeaking every so often. A nurse, her voice monotone though not unkind, spoke to her with steady efficiency, reading the prompted questions on the data pad like a machine, all the while keeping pace with the doctors that were pushing Diana.
"Is the father to be expected?" she asked, and when Diana shook her head the nurse tapped the box marked no on the data pad. "Any family members? Parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins?"
"No," Diana said through gritted teeth, another contraction rising and falling.
"And friends who would wish to attend the birth."
Diana paused for a moment before answering. "No."
The nurse gave her a brief look that was neither pity nor surprise, but instead just mere curiosity. "Natural or drug assisted birth?"
"Natural," Diana said determinedly. The pain was greater than she had initially expected, but to have anything less than a natural birth was insufferable. She was the goddess of fertility, the patron of mothers, and the guardian of children. That she was even giving birth in a hospital where babies were churned out like a factory was a deep sacrilege to her. She should be having her son in a wide open meadow, the sound of a nearby brook filling her ears, the wind and the sun on her face, the sky blue and cloudless.
(See how the mighty have fallen) the voice of Selena whispered in her ear. (Such a long fall from your ivory tower my dear sister, and to think mothers across where's and when's have prayed to you. You who still hold to these false romanticized notions.)
Leave me, Diana thought. I will not have you here.
(Nature is suffering. Nature would have these men scraping a living off rocks and rutting in the dirt like the animals they really are. Nature is wicked and cruel. It cares nothing for its children, and would just as soon see them die. Nature has given you this curse, and I will take pleasure from it.)
"Ma'am," the nurse said, and by the look of honest worry on her face Diana could tell that she had said the word a number of times.
"Yes," Diana said weakly.
The worry passed and the nurse resumed her previously robotic nature. She handed the data pad to Diana, still keeping that remarkable pace with the moving bed as the doctors who pushed it took yet another turn. "I need you to sign here," she said, pointing at the data pad, and Diana did with the tip of her finger. "And here." Diana signed again. "And initial on these three lines here, here, and here."
Diana glared up at the nurse with narrow eyes as cold as icebergs. "Do I have to do this while in labor?"
The woman seemed to recoil, truly taken aback by the question. She coughed before speaking. "UNSC regulation dictates that an expectant mother must demonstrate possession of full understanding and knowledge of the risks she is taking by choosing a natural birth. By giving your signature you are acknowledging the inherent risks as well as relieving the hospital and the UNSC of any legal liability should…"
"Enough," Diana said with an amount of authority that immediately caused the nurse's back to go rigid. With a grimace as another contraction arrived Diana signed her initials.
…
The pain had been extraordinary. The pain of a camel being forced to pass through the eye of a needle. Diana had held on to her stoic dignity for as long as she could, but eventually it fell to the wayside as the miracle of childbirth unfolded. Occasionally she slipped into other languages as she cursed through the contractions, and an analysis of the audio provided by the security camera would later reveal that at least a dozen were used, including ancient Greek, Latin, Aramaic, and one unidentified language that ONI agents would later classify as mere gibberish, though one ambitious and young doctor would later determine that the mystery tongue Diana had used seemed to have all the hallmarks of an actual language even if it was impossible to decipher.
But as with all things the pain passed, and was quickly forgotten as the child's first cries were heard. Despair filled her, however, when after only catching a glimpse of him her son was whisked away by the doctor, and in a near panic Diana attempted to sit up in the bed. "Where are they taking him?"
"Routine checkup," the nurse said, a different nurse this time, but since she was using the same monotone voice as the first that fact hardly mattered. Diana waited anxiously as she watched the doctor and the two assistant nurses move around her son, a robot arm extending itself out of the ceiling and scanning the child with a lidless black eye which protruded out of it like the point of a single finger. After what seemed like ages, her son crying the whole time as the cold air wrapped its cruel hands around him, he was returned to her wrapped tightly in a blanket, a blue cap fitted tightly on his head.
The nurse that held him actually managed to smile at Diana as she reached for her son eagerly, pulling him into a warm embrace that immediately silence his cries. Diana held him gently, her vision blurry, and she wiped a rear of her cheek with her shoulder, not daring to free even a single hand that was supporting him. "He's beautiful," she said softly, feeling his soft brown hair with the tip of her thumb.
"He is," the second nurse agreed, actually managing to sound genuine. She produced another data pad, though Diana hardly noticed. "Have you decided on a name?"
"Yes," Diana said, not taking her eyes off of him. "John. John Eric Toren. It's what his father wanted. Eric for his grandfather and John for his uncle." Diana looked up at the nurse, "His father's brother died when he was young. He always said he wanted the name to be passed on."
The nurse nodded typing into the data pad. "You're maiden name?" If the nurse had been perceptive she would have noticed a pause, almost as if Diana was thinking. "Diana Prim."
"I need your middle name also," the nurse said casually.
"Sorry," Diana said. There was another pause, and this time the nurse did pick up on it. If it had not been for the many languages Diana had used during childbirth the nurse might have dismissed it, but instead alarm bells went off. Not loud one's mind you, but certainly loud enough, and with the Insurrection so prevelant throughout the colonies, and with her being required to report any suspicious activity, the nurse passed the information along to her superiors. They, after reviewing the tape, would pass it on to the UNSC, who would pass it along to ONI in an endless chain of government bureaucracy, and eventually the tape would be harvested by a particular AI named Déjà who would in turn bring it to the attention of one ambitious young doctor.
"Diana Cortana Prim," she said finally.
The nurse raised an eyebrow, "Cortana?"
"Yes," Diana said. She came up with the name out of thin air, and as surprised, if not somewhat alarmed, at how easily the lies both came to her and passed through her lips. "My mother was a professor in medieval literature and was particularly interested in the Matter of France, the legends surrounding Emperor Charlemagne and his knights. She was either going to have my middle name be Durendal if I was a boy or Cortana if I was a girl. She would have had my first name be Joyeuse if my father hadn't stopped her." She laughed, and it sounded genuine enough for the nurse to smile along with her.
"And the father's name?" the nurse asked.
"Arthur," Diana said.
The nurse smiled. "Another medieval literature reference?"
Diana shook her head. "No. He was named after his great grandfather. His full name is Arthur Eld Toren."
The nurse began tapping again and Diana turned her attention away from her. John had opened one bleary eye and was currently looking at the world around him for the first time. The other eye opened and he looked up at his mother who smiled down at him. "He has his father's eyes."
"Most infants are born with blue eyes. His true eye color will be established in about six months," the nurse warned, still typing away at the pad.
Diana shook her head. "No he'll keep his. Bombardier eyes. Gunslinger eyes." She leaned back against the pillows, feeling content as she held her son within her arms. "I love you John. Your mother loves you."