by Nathan Jones
Once he was safely down the box would destroy itself so thoroughly that not even the most careful scouting drone's sensors would detect the residue. Although the more important purpose of its destruction was so that the people of the forgotten colony world would be protected from exposure to any advanced technology.
The humans of Earth with their primitive equipment certainly wouldn't find any residue.
He was already dressed in clothing that would allow him to fit in on the chosen culture of his new world, created of the same materials and with the same methods as textiles on that planet. Even so once he was able to obtain new clothing he'd burn this outfit, just to be safe.
On top of his physical preparations he'd spent what amounted to years in slowest slowtime learning the specifics of his culture and how to live with them. He'd already known the language, of course, but he'd wanted to be well prepared to fit in.
A lot of those preparations had taken place on his modified version of Earth: First Words to First Steps in Space. His last foray into that world before he went to the real thing.
Tycho ran his fingers along the box's smooth composite. It did look a lot like a coffin, and he decided that really was fitting; he might not die once he closed himself inside and allowed Pilot to launch it towards Earth at the end of the rift jump, at least he certainly hoped he wouldn't. But the moment he told the ship's AI to eject him and make the preprogrammed run into the fiery heart of Sol that would be it.
No turning back, no second guessing. His life as Tycho Boralene, pampered scion of a society that spanned a significant portion of the universe, would end forever. And his life as Tycho Boralene, one man among billions on a planet torn by war and other horrors, would begin.
It felt insane to even think of it. But that didn't stop him from steeling himself to climb into the box.
He had one foot inside and was preparing to lift the other and lower himself in when Pilot cleared his throat. “You just got a video message from Callista Ensom.”
Tycho jerked, losing his hold on the box and dropping onto the rim hard enough to hurt his ribs. “What?” he wheezed, struggling back to his feet.
“And I've got to say, for someone who keeps telling you to leave and going out of her way to say “final” goodbyes, she sure seems eager to keep talking to you.”
He had to wonder about that; was the woman he loved as reluctant to part as he was? As if in spite of her protests that it could never work out she secretly hoped he'd be willing to try?
If so, the message he found recorded for him when he settled into the pilot's chair in the cockpit worked hard to convince him otherwise.
Callista's beautiful face was still splotchy from crying, eyes red-rimmed and blinking frequently. But in spite of that her shoulders were squared firmly as she sat in her usual comfortable chair, wearing a sleeping robe as if she'd just thrown it on after rising from the remarkable hours they'd spent together.
“I love you, Tycho Boralene,” she said without bothering with a greeting. She smiled sadly. “I think I've loved you ever since you admitted your silly, sweet desire to get to know me in person. To try to build something real with me when no other human in existence would even consider such a ludicrous idea.”
Tycho stared at his display in shock. What was this? Why now?
“You're probably wondering why I waited until you were gone to tell you this.” Her smoky eyes closed, pain joining sadness in her expression. “It's simple. I'm a coward.”
He clenched his fists on the chair's armrests. “Don't, Calli,” he whispered, although he wasn't sure what he was pleading for her not to do.
Recordings couldn't hear pleas, though, and this one had no mercy. “I dreamed of a future with you. Especially once you showed me those families on the forgotten colony. They were so beautiful I watched the videos for hours after you were gone, bawling like a baby the whole time. I wanted nothing more than to have that with you. With our children.”
A broken sound escaped from his throat, but he forced himself not to look away from Callista's face. Her beautiful, sorrowful face.
“If you'd stayed I would have thrown myself into a life with you, even though I'm not like you and don't think I could ever be. I meant what I said about my fears about what that life would do to us, but I was willing to take the risk anyway in the hope that I was wrong. Even if there was a 99% chance we'd be miserable, I wanted to risk the 1% that it would be as good as we both longed for it to be.”
Callista closed her eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “But I knew that if you stayed you'd commit to this for life. It's who you are. You'd chase this even though I couldn't give you what you're looking for. And even though you'd tell yourself I could, that I was, eventually you'd start to resent me. I'd be a neutron star around your neck, dragging you down, keeping you from where you knew you should've gone in the first place.”
“No,” he said. But his voice lacked the conviction he felt it should, because these were doubts he also carried even though he'd tried to tell himself he didn't.
As if she'd heard him her eyelashes fluttered open again, smoky gray eyes regarding him through a shimmering veil of tears. “You'd stay, but it wouldn't be right for you, and it wouldn't be right for me. You'd resent me for holding you back, I'd resent you for expecting more from me than I could give.” She shook her head fiercely. “And I can't bear the thought that you might one day hate me.”
Looking at her now, even with all the pain her words brought, Tycho couldn't imagine that ever happening. Didn't see in what universe or reality it was possible.
Callista's gaze pierced through the display, pierced his heart, expression making it clear her words were as mercilessly cruel for her as they were for him. “But even knowing all that, I was sure you'd take that risk with me. And then our stupid desires would lead us both to suffering, and it would be all my fault for letting it happen.”
She smiled bitterly. “You're a sweet, hopeless romantic, Tych. But I'm the coldhearted brown dwarf. One of us had to save us both, and it had to be me.”
Tycho finally looked away, although it didn't really matter since he couldn't see through the tears blurring his vision. “Calli,” he whispered.
“I took the coward's way out and refused to gamble on the impossible odds. I hope one day you can forgive me for that. But if nothing else I wanted you to at least know that I love you. I hope you'll remember me fondly in your new life on Earth, where you can be with people like you.”
That was all. Her lovely face disappeared from his display, from his life, leaving only a wound somehow even deeper than when he'd left her at her estate.
“Wow!” Pilot said, cheerful voice shattering the heavy silence. “Months of giving you blue balls, then she screws you twice in one day.”
Tycho swore and slammed his fist through the display. It didn't break, of course, although his hand nearly did. He swore again and clutched his knuckles, glaring at the controls in front of him. “Not another word.”
“Or what, you'll order me to fly into the heart of a yellow dwarf star?”
He grit his teeth. “Delete personality and human behavioral algorithms.”
“Acknowledged,” Pilot responded in a flat monotone. And just that quickly Tycho was completely alone in the universe.
He growled and pushed out of the pilot's chair, striding purposefully towards the cargo bay. The box waited for him just where he'd left it, and he hurled himself inside and pushed the button to seal himself in.
Around him life support and other vital systems kicked in, confirmations popping up on the small display positioned on the underside of the box's lid in front of his face, letting him know everything was running as planned.
As he and Eva had prepared for.
He felt a moment of grief as he thought of his companion, irrational as that was. Since no one had tried to stop him yet he was certain she was gone now, her memory wiped. Along with Loran and his house AI and the maintenance bots and all other evidence o
f what he planned.
But whatever Eva had been in reality, to him she'd been his lover, closest friend, and so much more. She'd risked destruction and gone against what most AIs would accept as the proper interpretation of her core priorities to save him, to give him this opportunity to have the life he'd always wanted.
Much as it hurt to think of her now, he knew he'd always remember her.
Tycho closed his eyes as the tiny display in front of him blurred, and felt a tear slip down his cheek. Thinking of Eva made him think of Callista, of course; what he'd had with the silvery-haired woman had been real, and special, and everything he'd ever wanted. More than he could've possibly dreamed of when it had just been him and Eva.
But she'd made her desires clear, and much as it tore his heart to admit it, that was that. He would regret the life he'd never have with her just as he mourned the loss of Eva, but just like with his companion he'd never forget Callista Ensom and what she'd meant to him.
If he was luckier than he deserved to be, perhaps on Earth in some distant future he might find someone who could compare to her. Not as a replacement, such a thing was impossible, but perhaps a chance for happiness in spite of all he'd lost.
At the moment he didn't believe it; he'd never get over this heartache no matter how long he lived. Which to be fair, probably wouldn't be all that long.
“Preparations for departure are complete,” Pilot prompted, monotone and efficient. “Awaiting your final command.”
His final command. The one that would be as irrevocable as death itself. Much as Tycho wished things had turned out differently with Callista, he was at least glad he had the small consolation of Earth. Something to look towards, to feel some hope about.
With a shuddering breath he opened his eyes and raised a shaking thumb to rest on the button that would start his new life. “Prepare to initiate in 10,” he said quietly.
“Acknowledged.”
The button felt cool and solid under his thumb as Tycho began counting down in his head. And during those seconds that felt like individual eternities images of Callista, of Eva, of his parents, of Laird and Lady, of all the humans he'd visited, of his estate and manor, of the countless breathtaking things he'd seen in his travels across the universe and within the allnet, all flashed through his mind.
NINE
EIGHT
SEVEN
SIX
FIVE
FOUR
THREE
TWO
. . .
. . .
. . .
ONE
Chapter Eighteen
Alone
Callista stood in front of the image of Tycho she'd taken what seemed like a lifetime ago. He stood with that shy but delighted smile on his face, happy to see her. Framed by the backdrop of the galaxy he would eventually choose to call his home.
She'd made only one alteration to that image, to put a bright glowing marker along one of the galaxy's arms to highlight the Sol system. So she could easily see where the man she loved had gone, hopefully to live the life he'd always dreamed of.
The embarrassingly strong part of her that was romantic, something she knew Tycho had found so appealing about her as a complement to his own hopeless romanticism, still thrilled at the idea that he'd been willing to risk a lifetime of misery, suffering, and probably early death so he could live in a place that represented so much of what he'd been looking for in his life.
But most romantic at all, what still made Callista's heart flutter when she thought of it, was that he'd invited her to come with him.
And she'd refused.
A fresh wave of grief rushed over her, and she had to force herself to stay on her feet rather than slumping to the ground in pure misery. To comfort herself she lifted a hand to rest on her stomach.
She hadn't told Tycho, but she hadn't taken any measures to prevent conception from their lovemaking. Maybe it was selfish of her, but if she was going to lose the man she loved then she wanted at least some part of him with her, some reminder that he'd been in her life.
That he'd changed it forever.
She wasn't sure she was ready for a child, but one thing she knew for certain was that she fiercely wanted his child, and this had been her last chance. She still hadn't gone to Ion and had her companion make certain that conception occurred, but she needed to do it soon; she couldn't afford to risk the romantic notion that their love was guaranteed to produce a baby.
Callista hoped it would be a son. A beautiful little boy who looked just like Tycho. Her only regret was the boy would never have a chance to meet his remarkable father.
Tears misted her vision when she thought of it. Tycho would've made such a wonderful parent, and it was her fault he'd been deprived of the chance. She felt like a fool for her decision to let him leave and follow his dream of a life among humans on Earth, even though her choice had come from a rational place.
But did that matter? Maybe she should've let him follow his dream of spending a lifetime with her instead. How she desperately wished she had.
But it was too late now. Too late to have the life she'd begun to dream could actually happen. Could become a reality for her and the man she loved.
With a wrenching sob Callista turned and fled the room. But not to seek out Ion.
She was a fool. She didn't want just a part of Tycho. Or well she did want children with him, desperately wanted them, but she wanted to be with him with those children. Like those beautiful pictures of families from Earth.
The idea of living on that savage planet was a terrifying one, but Callista would live anywhere if it meant she could be with the man she loved. She just wished she'd realized that before she sent him away, and especially before she'd sent him that final message.
She just hoped it wasn't too late.
“Bruce!” she called as she ran down the hallway leading to the front entrance. To her surprise her companion didn't immediately appear; what a horrible time for him to be busy with something else. “Bruce!” she called again. “I need you now!”
To her relief just moments later he appeared at the other end of the hallway. “Callista-” he began, expression the one he wore when he had very important news.
She didn't have time for whatever it was. “Can you track Tycho's ship?” she demanded. “Can we communicate with him?”
Bruce held up his hands. “I've been tracking it,” he replied. “That's what I needed to tell you.” He hesitated. “It's outside.”
Callista blinked, the whirlpool of emotions roiling inside her vanishing in a moment of confused calm. “Outside the Sol system? Outside the boundary of the explored universe?”
“On our landing pad,” her companion clarified solemnly, although there was a twinkle in his eyes.
She froze, the breath whooshing out of her like she'd just been exposed to vacuum. “Here?” she breathed, staring at him with huge eyes. He nodded.
Hardly daring to hope, Callista rushed down the hallway past him and burst into the entry room, then out the front doors. There she skidded to a halt, heart thudding in her chest as a surge of joy swept away the last vestiges of her grief.
Tycho stood at the base of his ship's ramp, less than twenty feet away. When she appeared his face lit up, his expression such a perfect mirror of her own joyful love that she wanted to weep.
Callista gave a half sob and raced to him. He met her halfway, staggering slightly as she threw herself into his arms. He'd come back for her, even when she'd done her best to chase him away out of fear.
For a happy eternity neither of them needed to say anything, just clutching each other desperately and basking in each other's presence, letting their senses confirm that they really were here.
Together.
“I was coming to meet you,” she finally murmured into his chest. “I'll go to Earth with you after all.”
His chest expanded beneath her cheek as he sucked in a sudden, sharp breath. “But the place horrifies you.”
; “It does,” she agreed, holding him tighter. “But it does have one redeeming quality: you'd be there.”
Tycho stroked her hair, her back, and she savored his touch. “Then it's a good thing I came back in time so we didn't pass each other in the endless blackness of space. I've decided not to go.”
Callista pulled away to stare at him in shock. “But what about the life you always wanted?”
He smiled, and she had trouble keeping from getting lost in his deep blue eyes. “We might have a chance to go to Earth someday,” he answered quietly. “Or maybe they'll join us up in the stars.” He stared into her eyes and spoke with sudden passion. “Either way you're the life I always wanted. Wherever we are, whatever we do, doesn't matter as long as I'm with you.”
Her heart soared at his words. He'd abandoned his dream of a fulfilling life on Earth to come back to her. He really was a hopeless romantic.
But even now some part of her was unsure. “But my message,” she whispered. “What if things don't work out with us?”
He continued to meet her gaze fiercely. “It will. I believe that with all my heart. Whatever happens we can make it work. Together.” He gently lowered his head to press his lips to hers, and she melted into the kiss, regretful when he finally pulled away to continue. “But if somehow something happens, if what we have together doesn't last forever, then even so I'll always be grateful for the chance I had to be with you. I wouldn't give that up for anything, even Earth.”
Callista blinked away the tears in her eyes and lifted her lips to meet his again.
Epilogue
The Approach
Attn: Captain Allens,
Given our recent findings on Ross 128 b now that we've reached long distance observation range, I have pulled this story from the ship's archives and submit it to you for your consideration.
