This is Part one of “Betaen 6”.
The various parts of the story will be divided into 21 part presentations. These are the next 21.
Betaen 6. Part One. 1.
Earth. 1835 Chateau in Southern Germany
She didn’t like lounging, she never had, perhaps because her father and she had always been on the move, always running, always just one step ahead of the execution squads. These months here at the chateau had been the first peace she had known for years. If only she could stop thinking of him, of how he limped, of how he rode, of how he did anything. She watched his every move as if she were a kitten and he a ball of wool to play with. She knew how dangerous it could be but she couldn’t keep herself back. She had tried. Tried to think of him as a surrogate father, as he said he so wished. But in her heart she knew he was lying to himself, trying to keep his honor and his vision of himself. He was as enamored of her as she was of him, she could feel it when they were together.
Just the day before they had accidentally touched in the hallway. He had came out of his study as she walked by and not looking her had walked into her, she had felt his hard chest against her breasts and she had felt the response of his manhood to that accidental touch. He had stammered and apologized and quickly retreated into his study but she had seen where his eyes lay and they were not upon her face.
Betaen 6. A street in Main City. 2459.
The incessant squeak of the wheel from the luggage trolley was splitting her skull. Why hadn’t they fixed it on the ship? Maybe they had tried to. She was still so confused. That she could compute a Waverly equation and that she had even had the idea. Worse, the photo of her father. Her father had been there, on the ship, although he was dead so many years. How could that be? How could he have taken a photo of her father and she had always had it? Nothing made any sense and it made her head hurt. That damn squeak made it hurt even more.
She wanted to lash out at him for not fixing the wheel but it was her trolley and she had known about it. That would be petty. He couldn’t help it that he had taken a photo of her father and given it to him before he had ever met her. Especially because she had been with him when he took the photo so nothing made any sense.
She looked at him. He looked so much healthier now. So much like he should. Even with that slight limp that he tried to cover up but never really could.
“Why are planets named with numbers?” The question had just popped into her head
“I don’t really know” he said
“Something to do with entertainment.”
“Entertainment?”
“I don’t know” he said “I was a fucking natural scientist, not an entertainment scholar” he turned to her, stopping and thereby stopping the incessant squeak of the wheel “I’m sorry.” He took her hand. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. Its that photo and everything”
She nodded. What else could she do?
Earth. Paris-Stuttgart tube. Km 487. 3205
Malaica was herself again, as much as she could call herself that. It was like living in a broken kaleidoscope. As a child she had once been given one and had broken it. From then on, she could see fragments of the colors, never the entire color. Like now. She saw fragments, broken pieces, of other people’s lives. People that somehow had something to do with the murder. Of that she was certain. But why would she see these people? Famous people surely, but why them? Kiera, the Comle that guaranteed the rights of old humans; Emira, famous Emira who was forced to decide; and if Malaica were not mistaken she had also just been “she”. It was insane. Never in a bin ventra had she had visions like these. Never had she felt she was living the lives of others and never had she felt that these visions were so important to what she should do. She was uncertain if the Malaica that left the tube in Stuttgart would be the Malaica that had entered it in Paris. She felt the wave again and let it take her.
Betaen 6. Part One. 2
Office of the Comle. Betaen 6. 2799.
“We couldn’t get a proofed copy of all Betaen 6 for you Comle, but we have a copy of the He Chronicles that had already been proofed.” Her adjutant laid the book on the desk in front of her.
She nodded, taking in all the folios that still lay unopened. She should open them and work. She reached for the He Chronicles and flipped it open, let the others know she was in no mood to be disturbed.
Then she let the anger overtake her. Red boiling anger. The audacity that what she was presented needed to be proofed! What idiocy were they thinking on earth? How backwards could they be?? Everything that came close to her was proofed. Proofed that it was non deadly. They had even tried Catenol! Catenol!
The idiots even used the words of He and She to support their cause. Misconstrued and out of context but still their words. Those words still carried no little weight within the Confederation.
Why else would she want to read them now? Because she needed answers. Answers she couldn’t find at the moment within herself. Answers she desperately needed. Kiera didn’t want to be the new human who copied Hope 2.
She looked across the room at the photos of He and She and the Inspector. Smiled slightly. Let her gaze move to the photo of Emira. It had taken a lot of pull, back when she was still the aide to a senator, to get that photo. That was one of the reasons why it meant so much to her. She’d had it copied and a copy of it hung in every room she spent more than a few hours in. It was her talisman. Kiera liked to think of it as a connection to She, with that enigmatic photo He had taken and yet not taken.
“How did you do it?” She asked. Only after she had spoken did she know she had.
Kiera shook her head. This would get her nowhere, so she took up the book and opened it. There was an inscription on the first page. It had once been a gift.
For Maxima. He will show you the ways.
Mom.
She began to read. Every word. Even the date of publication. It was an early copy. From only the third edition in 2525. The early editions were often more attentive to the emotions that He wrote. Lately there were movements that watered down some of the passages as being unacceptable for children. She would have to remember to have them watched – the old humans might have a hand in what Kiera herself considered censorship. Of course, there must be some control – or otherwise the Inspector recalls would never have been published – let free from classification by her predecessor Elf-Gegu. But altering the very words of He? No. She looked for the publishers' release marks on the flypaper and found them, attention to those little details had helped Kiera to the position she now held.
The He Chronicles. As written by He during the time of trial.
Kiera smirked. No one called it that anymore. She couldn’t remember all of her history class, though she wished she could – Kiera had the feeling that it was the past that would be the most important right now. Then she would know when the time of He and She before the assimilation were called “the trials”. Many of her childhood friends had been She fanatics but she hadn’t yet been that interested in He and She and the assimilation when she was young. She had only become interested in it her first University year because of the Professor who made He and She come to life in her lectures and the 300-year celebrations of assimilation that took place that year. Kiera thought it hadn’t been easy for them and, no she wouldn’t think of that now. She wouldn’t think that they couldn’t assimilate, the two who had opened the Zater, that they had died without knowing the freedom and peace of assimilation. She knew, as a new human, that life and death were infinitesimally intertwined, yet she still felt a pang of sadness at the ending of the physical. It was what the N’Hai N’Hai had so dreamt of, so desired. Physicality. So, it was a time of sadness when it was lost. Kiera thought back to that date – the 300-year celebrations. She had been so young. The flags, the bands, the crowds, she could still feel the joy and the wonder of that time.
Betaen 6. Part One. 3.
Betaen 6. 3.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” Written 2459-2467. Anomaly occurred 2457.
It was the routine run to Betaen 6. Nothing special. Three jumps. Before the flu it could have been done in two. But the navigators were a damn lot better before the flu. A lot better. The worst of any jump was the preparation and the let down. The navigation team had to dope themselves up – one half doped, one half sober – and then work out the calculations and the all the other shit I didn’t understand that needed to be done for a jump. Depending upon how good they were that could take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. Our navigation team would be one of the in between ones. The first jump calculation had taken them 12 days. So we had time and were just strolling through the ship. It was better than playing rummy in the lounge or some stupid physical game in the gym. Sometimes you could pretend as if you were just walking at home on a planet. You just had to pick the right hallways. The ones with sky and trees or sea and stuff. Those were the ones where the suites were. We didn’t have a suite, but it didn’t keep us from walking in their corridors. It was a bit like a game with us. So, we were walking down one of those beautiful corridors, I can remember (at least I think I can) that it was a seascape we were walking by, hand in hand, and came around a corner and there was a soldier crouched down with his beret under his epaulet and a welder's mask covering his face because he was repairing a pipe. I thought, man that’s a good photo. For some weird reason that I don’t understand to this day I had my camera with me. The little one.
I took it out of my pocket, snapped a photo of him and we walked on. Then she asked to see the photo. I thumbed it back on and showed her the screen.
She turned pale like vanilla ice cream and just said “oh my god.”
She didn’t believe in a stupid God of course but it was something she’d picked up and would say when she was surprised. Probably came from the school she went to. It was pretty arcane from what she’s told me. I asked her what was wrong. She just pulled me and spoke.
“We have to get back to our cabin and quick.”
So, I followed her like a puppy back to the cabin, down probably six flights of stairs to get there (we didn’t have a nice cabin you may think, and you’d be right) - and there on the wall - was the photo I had taken of the welder. I had never noticed it before.
She looked at me and cried.
“That’s a photo of my father that I’ve had since I was a little girl!” She was flustered and spun around on her heel like she was dancing “You’ve seen it before! It’s the first thing I hung on the wall of the bedroom when we moved together!”
I swear by that God she called upon – whoever and wherever it may be – that I had never seen that fucking photo before. But if she said she had always had it I had to believe her, why would she lie to me about it?
I looked and it was the same photo. She tore it from the wall and flipped it over and began to claw at the tape and backing paper. I grabbed her hands and held them. Held them tight, asked. her
“Do you really want to do this? If you’ve always had it, it can’t be the same fucking photo I just took. I just took it. You were there” I think maybe her hysteria was rubbing off on me. I felt queasy and out of place. I had only ever felt out of place with her the first time she sat at my table.
She nodded although the tears were already coursing over her lovely cheeks. Dripping onto that strange tattoo she had on her right arm. The one with her memories. For some reason I wondered if someday I’d be ink in her skin. The thought calmed me. I noticed, probably for the first time, that there was a 12 there. Strange. My wife had a 12 tattoo. Maybe it was a woman thing. Didn’t matter now anyway.
I let her go and she ripped off the backing paper.
And there it was - an inscription “for my friend “ - and the scrawl that was my signature. She looked up at me as she sank onto her bed. Her eyes never left mine, but I don’t think she could see through the tears.
Betaen 6. Part One. Four.
Betaen 6. 4.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” written 2459-2467.
Anomaly occurred 2457.
But that photo was the least of our problems. Believe me. Because right then, as we looked at what was a damn good forgery of my signature by some sick fuck who wanted to fuck her up, they jumped. And it fucked up. And that really, really, fucked things up. Really.
The jump fucked up.
That was the consensus.
Really fucked up.
That was the feeling in the com room.
Where are we?
That was the nice version of the question everyone was asking.
No one wanted to ask the elephant hanging in the room -
When are we?
The Captain had called me and her up to the bridge and we had went into the room beside it. No idea what it’s called. But it’s a nice room and it’s got a table and chairs and all the shit you need. Even a coffee machine. She called me because we had been friends, well not friends, but we had known each other before the flu. Before the first wave. Not just before she died. Not the captain of course. She. My wife. She – the one who is here, not the ones in my mind – she wants me to write her name. My wife’s name. I wrote her name a couple of days ago, let it rest at that. I did it. I don’t have to do it again. It hurts too much and I don’t want to write it again. It doesn’t help me to write it. It doesn’t. Trees. Moss. Lights, blue lights… oh fuck no. No. No. No. No. Better than that no no no.
She died in the flu. The fucking flu. Women don’t die from the flu. They just don’t. How the fuck could she do this to me? How?
The Captain called me because she needed a friend, someone outside, who could look at the problem and she remembered I had been a scientist and should be able to look at the problem logically. I know you won’t fucking believe it but it’s true. Someone wanted me for my mind. Fuck you dear doctor who isn’t Fehm. Fuck you. Yes I know I’m doing it again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. There. Go write another note in that stupid tablet about me. How I’m regressing or whatever the fuck you call it. I brought her along because she was a cop. Maybe we needed a cop. How did I know? How does a jump fuck up anyway?
So, the question was:
When are we?
It sure as hell wasn’t when it was supposed to be. Because if that planet on the view screen was Betaen 6 it was long before any terra former had seen it.
She looked at me and I looked back at her. Smiled what I hoped was a confident smile. Her eyes still glistened from the tears.
Betaen 6. Part One. 5
Betaen 6.5
Earth. House of Margaret Zeit. 2001.
Her son Samuel called out from the study.
“Hey Mom!” He yelled “I’ve got something really interesting I think”
He came out of the study carrying a large red leather covered box. There was golden embossing on the top but most of it had already worn off. Margaret shook her head. She wondered, as she always did, how she and her husband had had such a sickly son. Her husband - David - had been in such terrific shape all his life until the tragic accident on the ski slopes had taken him from them. She herself still looked twenty years younger than she was and she had noticed the admiring glances from the younger men the last time she had swam laps.
“What is it?” Samuel asked. He insisted on being called Samuel. He had never let his name be shortened to Sam by anyone. It had cost him more than one bloodied nose and Margaret could still see the slight scarring where it had been broken when he was nine.
“It looks like one of those Dispatch boxes from an English spy movie” he said.
Margaret laughed.
“True. It should” she said.
Samuel just looked at her. Going through his fathers study was hard on him. True there were interesting moments, like now with the red leather box, but he’d much rather have his father back.
“It is a dispatch box. Your grandfather bequeathed it to your Dad. So it’s yours now. “
“Grandpa was a spy?”
“No Samuel” she laughed again “his grandfather bequeathed it to him. Your grandpas grandfather - that was his box”
“So my great great whatever grandfather was a spy?”
“Sorry to disappoint you but no, if I remember what your grandfather used to say, he was a cavalry officer. Give me a minute, I’ll come up with it. “
Samuel sat across from her in the deep leather couch that had been in the family forever. He took the large key ring from his pocket and started trying different keys on the locks.
“That’s it” Margaret said” A Lieutenant General, that’s what he was. A war hero as well. At least until the scandal. “
Samuels ears pricked up. The word scandal was always good for something although so many years ago what could it possibly have been - lost a horse or something?
“Scandal?” he asked.
“Yes” she said. “I don’t really know that much about it. Your grandfather would have known more. He was very very close to his grandfather. He never really knew his father you know. His grandfather brought him up. A bit like you. Your father was also always away on some new ski adventure for his you tube channel. Your grandpas father that was different though “
“How so?”
“ If I remember correctly there was a horrible scandal that ruined the family. It’s probably in that box somewhere. Your Grandpa used to say there was enough in that box for a dozen dirty novels”
Samuel smiled. He looked much less sickly when he smiled and the sight lightened Margaret’s heart. He had opened the dispatch box. Found the correct key among the hundreds of keys that had been in the top drawer of Donald’s desk. He sat for a while just looking at the scuffed red leather before he opened it.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” questioned Margaret.
He nodded. His hands shaking he opened the box.
“It’s full of papers and letters” he said.
“Well” said Margaret.
Samuel closed his eyes, put his hand in the box, and pulled out a scrap of paper. There was a scrawl of words across it.
Betaen 6. Part One. 6
Betaen 6.6
Street, Main City. Betaen 6. 2799
Gabriel had seen her as she entered the apartment complex. The demoness herself. Like many of the demons she was physically perfect. Peter had warned them of that. Physical perfection often hid the possession and evil within. Her consort had walked beside her, laughing. How could a man cavort with a demoness? She was beautiful, he must admit that – but she was evil. Did her consort not feel her possession? Gabriel shook his head. Of course not. He too was possessed. According to the vision he too must die. Then, and only then would the possessed be freed.
A policewoman tapped him on his shoulder. He jumped. He had been thinking of the ball.
“Sir?” She said “This area is restricted. You can't loiter here.”
“I am sorry” he stammered. “Its just that I saw the Command Leader. I was in awe” he hadn’t even lied. He had been.
The guard just nodded. That happened often, especially with off worlders. The aura surrounding Kiera was very strong, she could feel it even here on the street. They were so lucky to have her as Comle, she was still so young, she would lead them for many years.
Gabriel walked on. It didn’t matter now anyway. The ball and the umpire had been placed in the front garden. Yhomad could trigger the explosion from a kilometer away. He would take up his watch outside the restricted zone. Perhaps he would be asked to move on once more. He would just have to be careful not to think of the ball again.
That thinking of the ball was their mistake. Instead of shaping the charge and directing it they left it as a ball. None of them had studied, why should they, they were believers and God would give them everything they needed. All they had to do was believe and obey. How would they know that a round charge dissipates in the form it was made – as a large circle? If they had used less Cepetedium the bomb would only have left a crater in the garden and perhaps made the windowpanes move. But they had enough Cepetedium to destroy a block and even a badly made bomb does damage if it is large enough. Their bomb was large enough.
Gabriel was stopped twice before he left the restricted zone. The plan was that Yhomad would not detonate the bomb until he had confirmation from Gabriel and Ruth that it was placed and ready. His confirmation was to wave his green scarf. Ruths´ was to remove her headscarf and toss her hair. Only then would the bomb be detonated. Gabriel let the policewoman check through his documents. The first time he had been stopped he had felt fear. Now he felt nothing. They didn’t know what he planned. They didn’t know who he was, all his papers were in order. A pilgrim to Betaen 6. To the shrine of He and She. That he wandered through the city was to be expected.
Betaen 6. Part one. 7
Betaen 6. 7.
Earth. 1835. Chateau in Southern Germany Earth timeline
They stood at the door, letting the warm evening breeze blow over them. He smelled jasmine. He smiled at her, sure to keep it to a small smile, a friendly smile. Her face lit up. It was as if the sun was rising again instead of falling. He felt his heart leap a beat and his hand, the one so close to her he could feel the heat emanating from her young body, trembled. She glanced at him and her smile became smaller but at the same time more intimate. Suddenly he felt her soft hand rest on his left buttock. He looked at her, startled. The smile never changed but there was a slight pressure from her palm. He shivered slightly. No. He couldn’t let this happen. He stepped quickly down the stairs and into the evening air of the courtyard. “I have to check the horses” he said.
The horses were calm. Why shouldn’t they be? The mares were not in estrus, the geldings no longer thought of sex. But his racing heart and his sweaty plans belied the lie he kept telling himself over and over. He wanted her. He patted the neck of the big brown stallion, his favorite steed. He whinnied slightly and butted him softly in the shoulder with his nose.
“You know old fellow?” He asked, softly rubbing his nose “You sense it on me?” The horse didn’t reply but turned back to his hay.
He wiped his sweating brow with the handkerchief the general had gifted him in the field Lazarett the day after he had been wounded. His knee pained him. He snorted through his nostrils like the horses did. It was not his knee that pained him now. It was his heart.
He should go back. Return to the house. Sit in the garden room with his wife and their young visitor. Make pleasantries and pour the wine. His hand trembled as he thought of the cool white Rhine wine as it would touch her lips. Those lips that had drawn him into their spider web with a simple smile. Those lips he so wanted to - no. He must stop this madness. He was at least twice her age. He was an old cripple long past his time. He had given up on passion when he had given up on himself. He didn’t have it in him anymore. The Austrian bullets had taken part of it, the forgetfulness of his former comrades the rest. His life as squire had put the final nail in the coffin housing his passion. He had nailed it so strongly shut he couldn’t fathom how to open it.
He forked some hay listlessly to the mare.
What was she doing to him? He hadn’t had these feelings since before the last war. Before. He thought. With him it was always before. With others it was what would be. But he looked back. He had even as a child. Always looking back. He knew it was because he was too afraid of the future, of what it might hold. He stood there, next to the pile of hay the groom had left , leaning on the pitchfork, unconsciously removing the painful weight of his useless body from his useless leg. Old and useless. He smiled wryly. Like the stallion. Both of them now old and useless. He couldn’t even walk him without pain.
Her voice startled him.
“General? Are you there? Madame sent me to find you”
“I’m in the stalls” he called “just with the horses for a moment. The cavalryman never really leaves you. Tell Madame I’ll be right up”
But then she was there, beside him in the darkening stall. The sun was sinking rapidly and the shadows stretched their arms along the ground. He could hear her breath and see the movement of her bodice as the luscious evening air moved in and out of her young lungs. Yes, he thought, think of kings and air and the men you have seen bubbling and drowning in their own blood. Think of war. Don’t think of her supple young breasts and the quiver as she breathes. Don’t think of those red lips, her tongue just between them, slightly parted. Don’t think how quickly she was drawing her breath or the flush upon her beautiful cheeks.
Betaen 6. Part one. 8
Betaen 6. 8.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” written 2459-2467
My psychiatrist was pissed at me. Maybe its OK she’s pissed at me. Maybe she isn’t even pissed at me, and I just imagine it. She is a professional after all. Maybe I just read in what I want it to be. I think my psychiatrist even told me that once. That some of my memories are just things I want them to be. Like the tattoo. I don’t know what it is with the woman. The photo and the tattoo. Was I really certain it was a photo of her father? How the fuck would I know? Like I said a million times I never knew her father. He was dead long before I met her. Dead in the flu. The flu that took her. The first her. The one with only two tattoos, if she even had a tattoo. Fehm has got me so messed up I don’t really know anymore. Maybe I did create it because I think they are one person. But I know they aren’t. See. I know they aren’t. Well, most days. But she – the she that’s real on Mars, she says that it is probably a creation of my mind because I want them to be one. That I can’t accept the loss and can’t accept my guilt. I do – although she and the parole board say I don’t. But what the fuck do they know about them? I know they were two. At least I think they were.
Now she wants me to write something professional. Whatever the fuck that means. No idea what she meant but this is what I wrote. I think she’s just pissed at me because I wrote that I could have killed her. She should be happy; doesn’t it mean I accept she isn’t my daughter? You don’t go around wanting to kill your daughter, do you?
After the problems began to appear on Betaen 6 it was decided relatively quickly that they should terraform seven. Then they would set up the colony on 7 but still be able to mine 6 at a profit. It was just inside the mandarin belt as they had come to call the life zone. The work began at great expense to the company and a large number of earth investors and stopped at great loss when the Ritluvian flu ripped through the universe, or at least the parts we know of it.
After that we didn’t need any more planets. Just the ones that had minerals and things we could use. Especially anything we needed in space flight - and without Lutetium and Dysprosium there were no spaceship hulls - and to be worth anything the damn thing has got to be big.
That’s what I learned in school.
You may ask why we are still on Betaen 6 even though the problem still exists? Why every space-liner in the business stops at that damn planet? Why humans try to eke out a living on, above, and below its surface?
That it’s got the known universes greatest deposit of what we still call rare earth metals might just have something to do with it.
Why should they be rare on a planet that isn’t earth? I asked that once in physics class. Wasn’t looked upon well. Spent the next seven days in detention. Met my future wife then. A woman who would go down in history - not for her accomplishments but for her death - she was one of the 105 proven cases of death from Ritluvian flu in a woman. 4 and one-half quadrillion men and 105 women. She had to be one of them. Just had too.
Betaen 6. Part One. 9
Betaen 6. 9.
Excerpt from the “He chronicles” written 2459-2467
I‘m having nightmares. Or dreams. Depends on how I feel when I‘m awake my psychiatrist says. She wants me to write them so I‘m doing what she wants. Every once in while I can be nice to her. Maybe she will write something good about me in that damn tablet. In the nightmare-dreams I am someone else but at the same time I‘m not - its strange. Sometimes I‘m some old man and sometimes I‘m even me, but mostly I am some old man.
It was raining. I had my collar pulled up and I was wearing a hat instead of carrying an umbrella. She was walking beside me. She was letting the rain fall through her hair. It wasn’t that strong a rain yet, but we both knew it would be. It was that time between evening and when it gets really dark; to our right it was already dark on a pond or lake of some sorts and to our left the beginning of lights, probably from a city.
I looked up into the rain, the sky was gray, which was to be expected and I looked at her and thought again how beautiful she is, and then I realized I wasn’t me - I was someone else. She looked at me and spoke
„ How are we going to prepare him for when it starts?“
I looked down at my feet, I noticed that the hems of the trousers I wore were frayed and thought I might need a new pair, then back up at her, then again up at the sky letting the rain wash over my face, again then back down at my feet. I think I was trying to formulate some answer. We were still walking.
I said „I don’t know.“
But I don’t know who I was, there was nowhere where I could look in a reflection. The hands I held up to look at were old and there were yellow stains on the index middle finger of the right hand - a smoker I thought - but I still didn’t know who I was and that’s when I woke up. She had been there though. I don’t know who I was, but I knew it was real. She was talking to someone. About me, I think. She still thought of me. She wasn’t dead.
Fehm was not impressed with my interpretation of the dream.
„You could have done so much better“ she said and gave me that woman look again – the one I knew from my wife and from the cop „But you had to interpret she was alive. Why?“
I had already decided to go sit on the ledge and just watch so I didn’t answer her. Emira was pissed at me too, although she’s long been dead and has accepted me and the cop. She even said it. Told me to get back down there and participate, this was important – or did I want to stay in prison all my life? So I reluctantly went back down. I don’t know why women are all so pushy? Is it the X chromosome being there twice?
I decided to answer her as honestly and lucidly as I could.
„I don’t know“ I said
She looked at me for a long moment. I think she expected a different answer. Then she wrote something in her red tablet. I hope it was good.
The dreams won‘t stop. I‘ve been here for years and never dreamt before and now they roll over me like waves on the seashore.
Betaen 6. Part One. 10
Betaen 6. 10.
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles” written 2459-2467
This time I wasn’t the old guy. I was Jeff. I was sitting with us. With Emira and me. See Fehm – I can write your mothers name. I can write it again if you want me to? What happened to you after she died? When the flu took her? What happened to you? Where did you go? Why didn’t you stay with me? Was I so fucked up I couldn’t care for you? I am sorry if I was. I lost everything when I lost her and then I lost it all again when I lost the second her. I think I even forgot about you. I don’t now how or why but I am so sorry that I did.
I was Jeff though and the old guy wasn’t there. I was. The real me. Emira. We were all drinking coffee. It was the day Emira read my poem. The one she liked. She didn’t like many of my poems. She wasn’t a poem person she used to say. I – Jeff I – looked at me and her and smiled. I had a secret that I couldn’t tell them. A secret about everything. I had the answer to everything. In dreams you can be more than one person and I know the me that wasn’t in the dream – the dreamer me, the one locked in the cell on Mars – he thought Jeff was insane. Or just stupid. Because the answer to everything couldn’t have anything to do with Scotland. Where the fuck had he got that idea?
I, Jeff, knew this secret but I didn’t let on that I did. I just kept up the normal conversation although I knew that the reason I was there was because of the secret.
„Pers is on his way to Betaen 6 next week“ Emira said
The real me nodded.
„He’s a natural, isn’t he?“ the real me asked „Got you though all those Ministry Visits in half the time it would normally have taken?“
Emira smirked.
„A quarter. I was only away two years remember? With any other navigator team, it would have taken us at least 6 to 8 years to complete all those visits“
He – the he who was me - reached across the table and took her hand. She looked at him strangely and pulled away.
„We aren’t at the hand hold stage anymore“ she laughed and sipped at her coffee.
„No“ I said „You two have been together for almost twenty five years. Two kids. Careers. Lucky your daughter is away in finishing school“ I didn’t remark about the flu. How it took their son. How lost they both had been.
He laughed. The he that was me.
„True“ he said „Never would have been able to start the business if they were still living with us“
I wondered why he didn’t say anything about his son. Usually he did. I thought maybe if I talked about the flu he would open up, I didn‘t like him being so closed, I knew how much he missed his son.
„I hear the next wave of the flu is coming“ I said „Already the first deaths on Pesces 4. Its not that far. What only six jumps?“ That was all I could say about the secret. If they were smart enough, they would figure it out.
Emira nodded and looked sad. She had lost all her brothers to the flu, friends, a son. Everything had changed. I knew that more would change. But that it would require sacrifices that not everyone might be prepared to make. That too was part of the secret I knew. I was so smug. I knew so much that no one else knew. But how? And what did I know?
I knew that the problem was really called the N‘Hai N‘Hai. I knew that there was a research lab on Earth dissecting candidates who showed special abilities. I knew …
I woke up screaming because the real me knew that they were all dead. The real me knew they were all dead and I was creating this. I broke down sobbing into my blankets. All dead. All lost. Gone forever. All of them. My wife. Her. My children – if I ever had them and it didn’t fucking matter because even if they were real they were gone. Like Emira. Gone. Like her, my cop. Gone. Like Jeff. Probably even like the old guy. All gone forever. Probably even me. I felt so adrift, as if I wasn’t even on Mars anymore. As if I was everywhere at once.