THE FAREWELL SESSIONS ARE IN A LARGE, WHITE ROOM WITH A LOWceiling. It’s a pristine, antiseptic environment, a nod to the quarantines they used to observe before the old astronaut launches. There’s nothing sterile about this place, though. The room is filled with talk and laughter.
There are dozens of tables spread around the place, laid out like we’re all about to participate in some kind of formal banquet with terrible catering. I’ve learned a lot about large-scale catering over the last six months, attending functions and negotiation sessions and planning meetings. And though I used to joke with Atlanta that we’d be ruined once we’d tasted real food planetside, the truth is that our stuff—sponge food, Neal calls it—beats out a watery faux-chicken cutlet any day. Good thing too, given how many sponges lie in my future.
But even as my lips quirk at the thought, I know I’m focusing on food to prevent myself from thinking about who’s at the tablewith us now, gathered around as if we’re about to begin a meal … and who’s not.
Jules and Mia sit side by side across from us, his arm around her shoulders, her hand on his leg underneath the table. They’re almost always touching, I’ve noticed, when they’re together. And when they’re not, they always know exactly where the other one is. Neal and I are only a few steps down the road to … what did he call it the other day?Our own personal demonstration of intercultural diplomacy.
But I sirsly hope one day we can be something like Jules and Mia.
We’ve got a long time ahead of us to see if we can.
Jules has his head together with Neal, and though Neal’s bigger frame is clad in his blue-and-white uniform, and Jules is in civvies, they look like brothers.
“I’m just saying,” Jules is insisting, “that if I were you, I’d be checking the cargo hold twice. They changed the crew manifest just this morning. Are you sure they’ve packed everything you need?”
Neal snorts. “Yeh, I’m not listening to you when it comes to packing, dear cousin. The way Mia tells it, you showed up on Gaia toting enough stuff for a party of six.”
“I was told there would be—”
“—transport available,” Neal and Mia finish for him, laughing.
Behind them I can see Dr. Addison standing with his brother and his sister-in-law—Neal’s parents—letting us have these last moments.
Mink is standing with De Luca, the pair of them scanning the room—more similar than they want to admit—on the lookout for hassle.
Mink—I’ve adopted Jules and Mia’s name for her, and in truth, I think she likes it—is always scanning the room, no matter where she is. She’s always watching, always assessing. Sometimes I suspect that by the time we shift back Earthwards, she’ll be running the planet. In the first, vital hour of the first, vital meeting, she was theone who faced down the Undying leaders, and made them see that engineering a cure for the people of Lyon was more than a good diplomatic move—their future depended on it.
I’m pretty sure Mink can do anything, and for sure, she’s not done with us all yet. That story isn’t over.
But for now, Evie’s in school, and Mia’s as in-school as you can be, when you’re one half of the most recognizable couple on the planet. She passed her high school certification last week after finishing her private tutoring. And Mink’s been watching her, in particular—I suspect there’s a future in covert ops in store for Mia.
For now, she’s laughing again as Neal rattles off what he swears was a young Jules’s packing list for family holidays, over the splutters of his cousin. And the sound of their laughter fills up my heart.
But as fast as I can fill it, that happiness quietly drains out a hole in the bottom. The empty place at my side feels like a missing limb—like a missing heartbeat. I don’t know why, but some part of me thought maybe she’d come to see me off. To say goodbye. To let me hug her one last time.
In ten minutes, we’ll all part ways to head for the launch ceremony. Neal and I will be onstage with representatives of the rest of our crew, and they’ll be in the audience, listening to the speeches that outline our hopes for the future.
Our ship, theUnity, is on a ten-year mission. We won’t shift back Earthward more than a handful of times over the next decade, and by the time we’re done, nearly a hundred more ships will have joined the search with us.
TheUnityis only the first step of a journey all parts of humanity—no matter where we’ve spent the last few centuries—will take together. We’ll head for Centauri once more, and we’ll go far beyond. None of us knows what we’ll find out there. I mean, just because we haven’t found an Earth-like planet yet doesn’t mean we won’t one day. As the boy across the table from me remindedus all just half a year ago, space is big, but we are magnificent. And we are stronger together.
Our crew will be a mix of the best and brightest humans (“and us,” Neal always says) from all backgrounds—Earthborn or Undying. At least at the beginning, those from our fleet will be young, trained for the gravity our Earth counterparts need. That youth will be an advantage, I think. Our minds haven’t grown closed, yet. Or most of them haven’t.
Others of my people will remain here on Earth, to share our technology or to learn, to travel or to make their homes, some among the other humans, some apart.
Atlanta is one of those who will remain on Earth. I compren that’s for the best, because it’s what she wants. But these last six months, I’ve been torn in two, pulled in both directions by the future that’s calling to me, and the past that’s so completely tangled up in my heart that I can’t begin to separate myself from it.
It’s like there’s a non-stop babble of voices in my head, calling me to hunt for her, to stay with my friends, to try one more time to get in contact, to push her from my mind and kiss Neal, to wonder if she got my messages, to focus on my nextUnitybriefing.
I never thought I’d shift apart from her like this. But then again, I never thought I’d betray her. All the soldiers who followed orders that day have been pardoned, but that’s only the official part of it. Forgiving ourselves, forgiving each other, that’s much more complicated. I still have no idea if she’ll ever forgive me. I never thought she’d need to.
I never thought I’d step aboard a ship and leave her behind.
But she’s finally planetside, with all the things she wanted. She can feel the breeze every day. She can learn to swim. She can run on grass and sleep in the shade of a tree. Though I miss her desperately, I hope that this place will be everything she dreamed.
As if he’s sensing the feeling welling up inside me, Neal reaches for my hand under the table, giving it a quick squeeze, even as he shoots a retort back at his cousin.
A soft chime rings through the room, and all around us, conversation stills. It’s the signal we need to wrap up our farewells. And suddenly, with the pressure of making our last words something meaningful, everyone’s tongue-tied.
