d4

by Sherrie Cronin

  It also brought him certainty that they had crossed Mikkel’s famous tipping point on money. Under anything but the most bizarre of circumstances, the Mars mission would be adequately funded or better, and Cillian’s other, smaller interests would thrive and grow. Toby had done a magnificent job of protecting them and leaving them well enough financed to do what they could do.

  Sometimes Cillian wondered, if he was successful, how many people would deserve credit for playing a role in saving the human race. It warmed Cillian’s heart to think of how many of them there were. There was Mikkel, and Ariel, and Siarnaq of course, and now one had to include Eoin. For that matter, Jake and Nell and Hulda and Brendan all deserved the accolade. Certainly he could now add Ariel’s brother Zane to the list and an old woman in Iceland, he was told, and of course Toby, without whom none of this would now be possible. Yes, yes, it was a silly thing to think about it, as nobody was ever going to be giving out any awards. Nonetheless, it brought Cillian comfort to see the list of heroes grow. It made him feel less lonely.

  ******

  Ariel was prepared to spend a long weekend in rainy and cold Copenhagen, but when Mikkel met her at the airport with airplane tickets to fly on to a resort on the Turkish coast she had to admit that she was delighted.

  “I got great rates booking before the Christmas crowd shows up,” he explained. “It’s almost as cheap as staying in a hotel here. Seriously.”

  He didn’t have to convince her, she explained. He just had to buy her beach clothes. Apparently, that was no problem.

  They held hands on the plane, and Ariel was pleased to discover that after everything that had transpired, she still could get nothing from Mikkel’s touch except happy premories. The good news was that there seemed to be considerably more of them these days, and she let them drift through her mind as she closed her eyes and dozed.

  Once they arrived at the resort, Ariel recognized the little bungalow with the hammock as soon as she saw it.

  “This is the place. I bring you coffee. We, we…”

  “Do we now?” he asked.

  “Yes, we do. A lot.”

  “Well, I’d hate to mess up the space-time continuum or anything by not behaving as expected,” he joked.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” she said.

  “Ariel, I know that. I also know that you and I are going to relax for a few days and not talk about the future. We’re not going to even think about the future. For a little while, we are just going to enjoy now. Please.”

  “I could not agree more.”

  She meant it, and for the next few days that is exactly what they did.

  After

  30. Christmas 2026

  Certain times of year always brought a touch of sadness, like a gentle brush across her check. Christmas was one such time, when the memories of Earth and family came rushing back and demanded to be felt.

  It mattered to Ariel that she was always included somehow. Each year since she had left, her family had managed to video-call her on Christmas day, and she had come to cherish the fact that she would get to see and hear them all together again. This year, it mattered even more.

  Not that her life on Mars had been entirely bleak. Ariel stared out of her office window at the lonely red dust and was glad that at least she didn’t hate the sight of it anymore. In fact, life had begun to improve measurably even after the first year, when more people had arrived and the tiny human colony had grown large enough that her lingering claustrophobia had finally subsided completely and her feelings of isolation had become more manageable.

  Face it—it was never going to be like living in London or even Dubuque, Iowa, but after almost six years of colonization there was now something of a town. They had a social life. Online resources had been grouped into a sort of continuing education program for all of them. They even had a tiny park and a few flowers were growing there. It kept getting better.

  Ariel retreated to her small office where she could start the very special call in private. Mikkel would join her at the end. He was understanding like that. Ariel peered into the Martian dusk, willing the call to come a few minutes early.

  Mikkel had been one of the better reasons for going to Mars, she reminded herself, even though Ariel knew in her heart that love for any man would never have been enough to convince her to do something so drastic. It was lucky that she cared for him, and he for her, and that they had managed to build a life together that mostly brought them joy in spite of the circumstances.

  She was safer here, at least in some ways. Too many others back on Earth still knew what she could do and how her peculiar talents could be harnessed to circumvent the various forms of legal gambling on Earth. On Mars, she was safe from their touch and always would be. She never felt like she had to look over her shoulder, and the low-probability premories of being once again kidnapped and used to amass wealth for another had vanished entirely once she began her life on the red planet. It was a plus.

  Maybe those she cared about were better off as well. With millions of miles of vacuum separating them, her family and friends had been able to live their lives without Ariel’s always well intended, but not always productive, visions. As if she had to remind herself. It was always better not to touch and know too much.

  Except on Mars. Here, she was needed to touch everything and everyone and she was listened to like the town oracle. It was an odd role, one that never would have been possible on a planet filled with the noise and skepticism and random actions of 7 billion people. Here it was simple, straightforward, and once it became clear that she was not faking it, everyone else embraced it. Touch me and keep me safe. That was her main job, and everyone on Mars knew it. She did it as well as she possibly could.

  After Eoin’s horrible death years ago, Cillian had become increasingly reclusive and Ariel had considered disregarding his visions. But after a few years of blindness, Cillian was not only positive that humanity required an outpost on Mars, but he was also certain that if this attempt failed, there would probably be only three more serious attempts over the next three hundred years, and for various reasons all three of those were likely to be abandoned before 2352.

  By the time it was 2016, Mikkel and Ariel were happily sharing an apartment, and Cillian was sure that Ariel and her precognition tilted the scales by a wide margin. After that, Cillian simply decided that it was a fact that if Ariel did not go to Mars there probably would be no humanity by the year 3000. Cillian believed it. Ariel believed Cillian. Therefore, there wasn’t much more to think about after that. She was going to Mars.

  In September of 2024, when they had been there just over four years, thirty-six-year-old Ariel finally allowed herself the one dream she refused to give up. She allowed herself to become the first pregnant woman on Mars. Once the pregnancy was found to be progressing well, her spirits lifted to highs she thought she would never feel again. Mikkel was nervous and the other colonists had mixed reactions. Damn it, the rest of them had fought for the right to be here. She had not, and she would have this one pleasure before she got too old.

  Her joy was short lived. By March of 2025 a technician confirmed what Ariel had already precalled when he found a tiny opening between the dividing wall in the upper two chambers of the heart of the growing fetus. Her brother Zane, now in medical school, had assured her that lots of people had these atrial septal defects, and they lead perfectly normal lives.

  He promised her that it was going to be okay, but she knew better. She put her hands on her belly every night and cried, knowing what was the most likely outcome.

  “I hate this gift,” she screamed at Mikkel one evening as he walked in on her. “I hate it. I’d cut my own brain out right now if I could.” He had turned away from her when the outburst started, and that angered her worse. She grabbed his head to turn it towards her and make him listen to her frustration when she saw the tears running down his cheeks.

  Oh.

  “He’s my son, too,” Mikkel said. And she and
Mikkel had held each other and finally cried together.

  They named him John, the Americanized form of Eoin that they both preferred, and the poor little boy could hardly sleep for the amount of time that his parents insisted on holding him after he was born. When the two doctors in the colony conferred and told them that John was fighting a slow battle for his very life, they already knew what was coming.

  The abnormality was significantly larger than usual, and, while not immediately life threatening, it would need to be fixed before John got much older. The common non-surgical procedure was inadequate for a case this extreme. If John were to live into childhood, he would need open-heart surgery on his little heart. Surgery that was not possible on Mars. And if he was going to be put into cryogenic stasis and sent back safely, the best time to do it was now.

  Ariel and Mikkel made the emotionally gut-wrenching decision to request the transport of a basically frozen infant back to Earth. This would be only the second ship to return, and any modifications needed to be made quickly. Its cargo was intended to be both scientifically useful and non-living, and there were those who objected to the frivolity of giving up cargo space to try to save a baby. The parents had known the risks. They needed to accept the consequences.

  Others knew Ariel’s story and what she had given up and why, and felt that under the circumstances she had earned this. They rose to the technical challenge of getting the small parcel back safely. Eight months later, in April of 2026, eight-and-a-half-month-old John arrived on Earth, was brought successfully out of stasis, and was given over to the care of Zane and his partner Afi.

  Ariel had seen that the little boy had a high likelihood of surviving the journey, and the surgery. After that, she could not tell. Would having a hole in his heart have some possible advantage for him someday? Ariel couldn't imagine how, but she hoped that it would.

  Ariel shook her head to clear the memories, and she looked impatiently at the clock. The designated start time for the Christmas call had come and gone. A frustrated Ariel paced around her small office. How could they be late today of all days? They’d sent tons of photos and video clips of him already, of course. But this would be John’s first real Christmas, because being frozen on a spaceship last year just didn’t count. They would all be together at the high-def giant screen facility, where they would see her life-sized. Zane and Afi would surely be passing the squirming baby on to his Aunt Teddie and to her Mom and Dad, and dammit Ariel was crying again when the call finally came through. She wiped her eyes quickly and did her best to smile as she answered.

  “Sorry we’re late, sweetie,” her mom started the call. “Didn’t mean to make you sad.” Of course. She’d given her mom ongoing permission to check in on her mentally. There were times when that was a nuisance.

  “Yeah somebody here decided that five minutes ago was a great time to take a world class dump and he needed a diaper change real bad,” Zane laughed as he held up a squirming little boy. John had been on Earth eight months now, and he had about the developmental age of a twelve-month-old. He looked happy and healthy, and Zane and Afi seemed to be doing such a wonderful job raising him.

  As her family laughed and talked over each other and made faces and waved, she concentrated on how her son was so clearly loved. She listened to news from each of them. Teddie was dating a telepath? Zane was surviving his residency and had actually been home with Afi when John took his first step the day before yesterday. They were sorry they were late sending it, but the video was coming. Her dad had some minor health problems but was excited that one of his former students was nominated for the Nobel Prize in physics. Her mother’s organization was growing faster than her mom could keep up with it. So much good news. God, how Ariel loved him. How she loved them all.

  Mikkel knocked lightly on the door to her office. His questioning look said, “Ready for me?” She motioned him in.

  “We’ve got some good news here too,” she said softly as Mikkel put his arm around her. Ariel’s mom gave a knowing smile but everyone else quieted down and looked inquisitive.

  “We’re expecting a baby in June,” Ariel said. “Everything looks good according to the doctor, and, well, more importantly it looks good according to me. I think John’s going to have a sister, one who grows up on Mars.”

  Teddie gave a whoop and everyone else joined in. They were all still carrying on when their time slot for the high-def call ran out, and at the ten-second warning chime they all began waving and blowing kisses and sending hugs through the air. Mikkel kept his arm around Ariel as she started to cry again.

  “It’s the hormones,” she tried to explain to him between sobs. “I’m fine, really I am.”

  “I should get back to the common room,” he said. “It’s almost time for dinner here. You coming?”

  Of course she was. This was her home now, and Christmas dinner was about to be served.

  31. All of 2047

  If the return of the infant John had sparked controversy, it was nothing compared with the decision to finally bring an adult settler back to Earth. The rules were and always had been clear. The trip to Mars was a one-way journey. But change is inevitable and technology will improve and costs do come down. Many on the engineering and medical side were now curious to see if it could be done safely. Plus, there were those on Earth who thought that Mars was pulling away, both economically and psychologically, and who recognized the need for the ties to remain close. This goodwill trip would be financed by Earth. Who to bring?

  The chancellor seemed like a logical choice. She was a fit fifty-eight-year-old, much liked on her planet and arguably a fine ambassador for the more than ten-thousand Martians whom she now represented. There was a humanitarian aspect, in that her father had passed away recently, and her family had offered to delay the funeral until she arrived. As an added plus, the child she had sent to Earth for surgery two decades ago amidst controversy had now inadvertently gotten his girlfriend pregnant. By the time the chancellor arrived, she would be a new grandmother. She could be photographed holding her first grandchild, an earthling, providing endless touching symbolism of how the two worlds remained intertwined.

  The risks of the journey were deemed minor and the expense was deemed acceptable, so in 2046 Ariel prepared herself mentally and physically for the ardors of spending eight months in a large tin can, followed by a year in a stronger gravitational field. She delegated her responsibilities, said a two-year goodbye to her nineteen-year-old daughter and her husband of over two decades, and left her people with all the premories she could find in order to ensure their safety in her absence. Even then she balked at the last minute, and spoke confidentially with Brendan.

  “Nothing is changed since I wrote you,” he assured her. “Cillian is positive. You have a window of well over two years when you can be gone from Mars and all is fine. In fact, he says that the increased communication with Earth and the good will from this trip are very positive for the future. He advises you to do it.”

  So she did.

  She mourned her father while wishing that she could have seen him one last time instead. She held tiny Trinity close to her heart as often as she could, and each time she did, it seemed like every camera on Earth turned towards her. John and his girlfriend had inadvertently added to the media’s infatuation with the child by naming the little girl for her three lineages; that of her mother, her father’s family on Earth, and her father’s ties to distant Mars. Commentators loved the name Trinity.

  Ariel attended meetings and functions and even parades as required and requested, but she also took part of those eight glorious months on her home world to play in the ocean and to stare at the clouds. Why had she never appreciated clouds when she saw them every day?

  She and John were having a picnic together, just the two of them, in a real park with grass and trees everywhere and it felt like something out of dream. There was a good bit of security around them, of course, but her guards had the good manners to keep their distance and al
low the illusion of privacy.

  “Look at that cloud. The colors, the curls, how huge it is. It’s amazing. You have no idea how beautiful it is,” she told John. “You have no idea what a gift it is to be able to see the bright blue sky on a clear afternoon. To stare out at the sea. I didn’t realize how much I missed the color blue.”

  He smiled. She knew that he found her odd, and she supposed that she found him strange to be around as well. Over the years they had developed a strong relationship through electronic communication. For years one of her greatest joys had been watching John squirm with excitement while he waited for his turn to talk her.

  The boy always brought something special to show her: a pet snake, or an intricate wooden puzzle he had designed and made. Once he shyly showed her a first-place debate trophy from school, then it was an admissions letter from Northwestern. How fast he had grown. Yet in spite of that feeling of having been part of his life all along, she was finding this face-to-face communication tough.

  “It’s just so different here,” she tried to explain.

  “I’m sure it is,” he said sympathetically. “Please don’t be mad, Mom, but I’m glad I live here on Earth.” At Zane and Afi’s insistence, he still called her Mom, while Mikkel had ended up as “Far,” the Danish word for father.

  “I mean, I love you and Far, but I love Dad and Pop and I like the life I have. I don’t think that I’d like as Mars half as much.”

  She had expected this, of course. It meant that he was happy here, and that was what she wanted. Right? She tried to rise to the occasion.