LIGHT YEARS FROM HOME

by Roger Storkamp

  Albert had evaded the issue of my pregnancy with Cleopatra. His gaze remained locked on me. “You said I should ask you to marry me, when I decided I truly meant it. That moment is now.” He took a deep breath, and he willed his image to kneel, an action requiring extreme concentration under the circumstances. “Ariel, will you please marry me? I promise to love you and be a good father to all our children.”

  Would he honor his promise if Sera reduced me to a babbling idiot, or if she stole his daughter’s intellect? I sublimated my concern, thankful to be out of Sera’s clairvoyance range.

  “I accept and I promise never to embarrass you.” The unusual adjunct to my vow committed me to keep secret the fact he had had sex with a droid. His theory that Cleopatra is a gift from God may be more accurate than I am ready to believe just yet.

  “Albert and I will sign off, since there are no more questions.” I took advantage of the silence probably caused by bewilderment rather satisfaction with my explanation of our situation. I closed the closet curtain, making no effort to release Albert’s apparition. They could summon Sera if it presented a problem. I opened my blouse and lifted Cleopatra to my breast.

  Paul faced away and tugged on Dad’s elbow. “We better decide how to approach the general population when we get back. They’ll be needing some stern leadership.”

  “I advise strongly against such an attempt until Frank and Albert are included.” Both men stopped in mid-step. “Concern yourselves with gaining the trust of the families on this side, as Frank has done over there.”

  Paul responded but continued to face my father. “I know how Frank thinks. He’ll connive to make himself an absolute ruler, if we don’t have a plan to counter him.”

  “I witnessed four families offer him their pledge of loyalty. You might want to develop something similar here.”

  Paul stepped out of the room, and I called him back. “Please help my father move my bed and Cleopatra’s crib out of this room.”

  “Where would you like it?” Dad asked.

  “In the living room would be fine.”

  Mother said, “I want my child and my grandchild to sleep in our bedroom, where Max can protect all three women in his life.”

  I thanked her with my eyes and glanced toward Sera’s closet, as I shut down my computer. “When you’re finished moving furniture, find some material in the commissary to seal off this closet.” My computer flashed back on. I shrieked, “Dad, disable it.”

  My father gripped the unit embedded in the wall, his muscles bulging and face beet red, and yanked it loose. The lighted surfaces of ceiling and wall monitors diminished to a tiny dot and zapped to oblivion. Through the din of acrid smoke and crackling circuits, I yelled for Paul to shut down the communication counsel in his office, but it would be too late. Sera’s taking control would be instantaneous, especially after losing both the closet and my personal computer.

  Paul assured me, “The transmission line Frank and I installed is only capable of visual and audio signals, none of this hologram capability.”

  “It must be severed. Sera breached the computer in Mother’s laboratory and gained control of my mind.” I faced Mother. “She, not the chemical you injected, immobilized my body.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Back in the closet, she admitted it and released my paralysis to demonstrate the extent of her power over me.”

  Paul said, “Martha, take Ariel and Cleopatra to the rooftop garden, away from electronic devices. They’ll be safe up there, unless Sera’s influence can ride the sunbeams.”

  AUGUST 8, 3152

  After spending all night on the rooftop to avoid Sera’s intrusion, I crawled from the metallic tent Dad had fashioned to shield me from the perpetual sunlight. Mother sat on the lawn swing and Cleopatra played in the grass, while I paced back and forth along the garden path between flowerbeds and vegetable patches. When my head cleared, I joined my mother on the swing.

  An apparition rising through the trapdoor on the roof of the central pentagon caught my attention. My pulse skyrocketed, until I recognized my father’s face, as he waddled forward wearing a bulky space suit and lugging his machete. Paul followed close behind. He placed the bubble over Dad’s head and attached the dual-purpose lift-umbrella and parachute to the back of his outfit. Dad rose skyward until nothing but a dark speck dotted the brilliant sky, and then disappeared through the revolving door.

  A short time later, Dad reappeared. The parachute fluttered, blossomed, and floated. I ran to the edge of our roof, jumped the divider-fence, and joined Paul, our necks craned. Dad’s figure grew larger, still clutching the harvesting tool. He had severed the transmission line between Sera and us. We were again electronically isolated. The static she intended to prevent communication with Mission One had also foiled her chance to reach us by wireless.

  When Paul lifted the bubble from Dad’s head, I spit out my most pressing question. “Does the line strung through the pulleys still function?”

  He nodded and held out a piece of paper. “The moment I cut the transmission cable, the rope began whizzing through the pulley, delivering this hand written note.”

  I read it aloud. “Your decision to isolate your families from those on this side has placed a severe handicap on docking procedures. I suggest Paul reattach the cable immediately.” Had she anticipated my decision or could she continue to read my thoughts?

  “Dad, I need you to return and deliver my answer.” I ran to his tool shed to find a pencil, while he replaced his helmet and his suit pressurized. I scribbled a brief note.

  From now on, this is how we communicate. My father will check the incoming mail every morning and post my answer the following day.

  He placed the note in his pocket and opened the umbrella strapped to his back. Jets of air blasted from around and under him, lifting him to the sky where the revolving door swallowed him. After an hour passed, I panicked, but the door swung open and he appeared, slowly drifting to the rooftop garden.

  “What took so long?” I asked, as Paul unfastened the helmet and opened the suit.

  “Pulling a mile of rope hand-over-hand takes a lot of time.” He chuckled. “I’ll rig an electric pulling device for tomorrow and the next day and the next day.”

  He had read my note. “Thanks, Dad.”

  He stepped out of his suit and began to fold it, when a percussion reverberated, as if we were encased inside a gigantic bell. Cleopatra began to cry, and Dad unfolded his suit. As Paul helped him step back into it, Dad said, “I’ll bet Sera has a message for us.” He lifted to the sky, disappeared behind the door, and returned to the rooftop almost immediately.

  I scrambled to grab the note he waved at me. While Paul removed the headgear, Dad explained, “Sera attached a trip hammer to the rope that slammed against the dome to announce the arrival of a message.”

  I grinned. “Like a door knocker.” He frowned, and I explained, “Early Twentieth Century technology.”

  “At least we don’t have to wait until morning.” He glanced at the paper still clasped in my fist. “You got an answer for me to deliver, while I’m still in the delivery mode?” He faced Paul. “Leave my suit fastened. I suspect I’ll be returning shortly.”

  I scanned Sera’s message while four curious eyes remained focused on me.

  Send over one of Helen’s frozen eggs. I will implant it back into her uterus and trigger it to clone itself, a procedure your mother is not capable of performing without my assistance. As a humanitarian act, I am offering Helen the opportunity to give birth to a daughter who will be fertile.

  You seem to have figured out my system for announcing incoming messages. I have a droid waiting outside the dome on this side to receive whatever you choose to send this way.

  I faced the two adults who had earned the right to all information passed back and forth, but not this. “I’m sorry, but some of this is personal.”

  Dad politely nodded and stepped back, and Paul said, “I expect to be informed
of all facts and data pertinent to our situation.” He glared. “Our survival.”

  “I’ll give a full report, but first I need to dialogue with Sera.” I glanced toward the radiant sky, and wondered why the light remained continuous, if our habitat was entirely synthetic as Sera had indicated. Not the most important issue at hand. I penned the following note.

  Helen will have to take her chances with my mother’s skills when our ten families are reunited. I cannot trust you having control of her egg and Albert’s sperm, a quantity of which I assume you have preserved. He’d never consent to donate more under those circumstances.

  When my father returned following a nearly immediate clap of thunder after he disappeared through the revolving door, Paul eyed him conspiratorially. I felt sure he might grab the message from my father’s outstretched hand, but I resisted rushing to receive it. I remained seated, holding Cleopatra. Paul delivered it still folded while Dad stood waiting, suited and hooded.

  “Thank you, Paul, for your patience with me.”

  Your internal antennae are more receptive than any that technology has to offer. Yes, I intended to create that child with or without Albert’s consent. However, let me clarify my intentions. With the aforementioned combination, I would germinate Helen’s egg, or any other from the women aboard Mission Two, and freeze the embryo for as long as it takes to reach my destination. Only then would I absorb that creature into my identity. You and Albert and Cleopatra would be free to enjoy your short lives together.

  My answer was immediate, and Dad dutifully carried it aloft.

  An anonymous human sacrifice. You misjudge what it means to be human.

  Dad resettled from the roof, sans the gong, waiving Sera’s instant response.

  A mother willing to sacrificing herself or her daughter would be more humanitarian?

  I pulled Cleopatra tight to my body and carried her down the stairs into our apartment without offering an explanation. By the time I reached my parents’ bedroom, my eyes blurred and my chest convulsed. I plopped onto the chair and sobbed.

  Mother entered; drink in hand, eyes wide as saucers. “I exposed the eggs and sperm in my laboratory. We don’t need any more designer children.”

  “No, Mother,” I sobbed. “Not Helen’s.”

  “Not Helen’s.” She downed the remainder of her drink. “I owe her a child.”

  I felt relieved but cautioned, “Keep it away from Sera.”

  “It’s safe. Helen will be having her baby girl in nine months.”

  “But we’ll be leaving before then. Sera will have control of the incubator.”

  “Helen’s cloned embryo is not in the incubator.” Mother pressed her hand to her abdomen.

  “Mother! A pregnancy at your age might kill you.”

  “A life for a life, if that is what God has in store for me.”

  AUGUST 22, 3152

  Our pony express—actually, Daddy express—remained inactive, and Paul fretted about what preparations needed his attention for the move. He insisted that I request instructions, but I hesitated to initiate the subject with Sera. The less I communicated with her the safer I felt. Nevertheless, Paul had each of us pack our belongings and store them on the roof of the central pentagon. When they began to float in diminished gravity, I condescended to ask Sera for her timetable. Dad returned her message addressed to Paul. I accepted Sera’s snub, but resented Paul’s superior attitude.

  After keeping everyone in the dark for another week, he called a rooftop meeting to explain the process, careful to enhance the technical details, as if he and Sera had worked them out together. He announced, “We have reversed course and, as of this past week, we’ve rendezvoused with Mission One. Our central hub is presently attached to the rear of the comet, by which we will enter through the probe.”

  “Submarine,” I announced, as if clarification were needed. Judging from the expressions, it only added confusion.

  Paul said, “The passage Frank’s people used to exit Mission One.”

  “Frank’s people?” Had our two leaders struck a deal? Only if Sera intervened.

  He rolled his eyes and continued. “Two years ago we exited through the head of the comet, but we will reenter through…” he glared at me. “The submarine embedded in the tail.”

  I smiled and nodded knowingly.

  He took over the show from then on. “Our tether has retracted, and our center hub will serve as a passage way into the comet’s core.

  Submarine. I bit my lip.

  Paul rolled his eyes toward me and continued, “Frank’s people have already passed through and are situated in their homes. We are to wait for Sera to escort us.” He scanned the inquisitive faces. “Soon.”

  “Soon?” Dad asked.

  The blotches on Paul’s cheeks broadened. “That’s all I know.”

  “Sera might have us waiting out here like idiots for days,” Mother complained, hands across her stomach. Morning sickness already?

  Dad had inserted a railing for people to grab when walking, and he installed handholds alongside the stairs down to our apartment and its rotating bathroom facilities for everyone to use when necessary. I scanned our neighbors clinging to chairs fastened to our rooftop that Dad had dispersed throughout the lawn. Women who seldom ventured out into the sun clutched at wide brimmed hats, as the sun radiated down on us. Had Sera been punishing us for my snubbing her, or just softening me for my final decision?

  Tears began to well, but I stuffed them alongside Sera’s two options, a choice I had yet to make. I envisioned Albert standing on his parents’ balcony, Cleopatra and I stepping out on ours to greet him. The picture was wrong. There were no balconies. As for Cleopatra and me. . .. My head dipped and I gave in to a rush of tears.

  Dad comforted me, all others too engrossed in our situation to pay attention. I reminded him of what might be required, and he, too, broke down and cried. He lumbered off to his tool shed.

  Late that afternoon, Sera dropped through the revolving door on our sky and drifted down to Dad’s rooftop garden, her gaze settling on Paul.

  He said, “We’ve been ready since this morning.”

  “I know. I’ve been watching.”

  The sun! She had had twenty-four-hours-a-day surveillance since the day we arrived. I should have known.

  “I kept my end of the bargain.” Her gaze passed over me like ice water and roved to the crowd, sitting, standing and some floating. She announced in a loud voice, “Pressurized robot-cabs are waiting outside your dome to transport you safely into the biosphere where there is atmosphere, but you won’t feel gravity until back at your fortieth level apartments. They have been restored to their former capacity.”

  “Spying on us through sunlight,” I yelled. “What other communication device allowed you to prepare Mission One for our homecoming?” Will we ever be free of her?

  Her eyes settled back on me. “I have my ways.” She grinned. “Albert and Jimmy are back with their parents; I assure you, their bodies unmolested.”

  I hadn’t even fully formed the question. Sera faced me almost in defiance of any tic or eye movement. None appeared.

  She folded her arms. “What is your decision? You or Cleopatra?”

  “You don’t know.”

  “Strangely, I don’t.”

  “Because I haven’t made up my mind. Even you can’t know what hasn’t been decided.” I enjoyed the impatience her human component etched on her face. “It has to be your decision. I will accept whatever you decide.”

  She glanced back toward my parents, my mother cowering and weeping bitterly. She faced my father who held Cleopatra with his machete raised.

  “You can hurt me with that thing, but I cannot be destroyed.” She kept her focus on my father, but she directed her comment at me. “I suggest you fulfill your end of the bargain, and I will commence the parade of vehicles for your transportation.”

  “Dad has been instructed not to harm you.”

  “I am aware of your instructi
ons but not his impulses. I need to know your decision, your intellect or Cleopatra’s.”

  “You decide. It has to be your responsibility.”

  “I thought you might vacillate. Okay, I’ll take Cleopatra.” With her eyes focused on Dad’s weapon, she swooped her arms to envelop my child.

  I forced my mind blank, the pain an automatic camouflage preventing Sera’s intrusion. I glanced toward my father the blade glistening in the sun.

  Sera glared at him. “What are your intentions?”

  I responded for him. “A sacrifice no grandparent should ever have to make.”

  Sera shrieked, “If Cleopatra dies, you will be required to fulfill our pact.” Agitation overwhelmed her voice and then calmed. “A mother cannot be capable of destroying her own child. I’ve learned enough about humans over the millennium to understand that.” Agitation turned to anger. “Give her to me. You agreed, and I kept my part of the bargain. She’s mine.”

  “Half yours. You admitted as much at the commencement of our bargain.”

  “I meant it figuratively, not literally, as did you. Now give her to me, and I will return her loveable body unharmed.”

  I glanced at Dad and nodded. He set his granddaughter on the table and raised his machete. I stared into Sera’s eyes, not intending hatred but compassion, but I sensed no sign of empathy in return. I steeled my nerves to face the inevitable. “We each get to keep half of Cleopatra as was our bargain.”

  Mother screamed louder and sweat poured down my father’s face.

  Sera raged, “Who gives you the right to destroy an innocent victim?”

  “King Solomon. It is from that wise judge that I take my cue. We each shall have half of a baby.”

  “Cleopatra smiled and blew bubbles of saliva, as if we’d been discussing her bath, which she thoroughly enjoyed.