“Is that where tants got their name? A shortening of mutant?” Ken asked.
“Or a shortening of resistant, because they seem to all be resistant to radiation. Without my RAM suit, I would have been dead, for sure.”
“Kimberly? Still no connection to Dome 17?” Ken asked.
“The weaker signal is all that I have been able to detect,” Kimberly replied. “I do not have enough information to make a conjecture of any merit, especially in light of the duplicitous nature of what we have learned about Jubal, Larsen, and Riley. I have repeatedly attempted to lock into that weaker signal, but without success. I will continue those efforts.”
Janae pondered, “What about our mysterious friend? The one who led us here to get our equipment? There are several blue automacubes here, and this place appears to be free from both tant and norm activities, but for how long?”
“What about the other biomes? From my understanding, there are seven other places we have no ideas about. Exploring those would be better than visiting the dead dome on Earth, right? What are the people like, in those places? What resources do they offer?”
“Those are excellent questions, Janae, Ken, to which I am investigating. Currently, I have no answers.”
Janae blew out a frustrated breath, and sat back.
“Janae, we are here. We are alive, and you did get to report Jubal. Perhaps your message got home, perhaps not, but from what Riley said, Jubal is dead, Larsen is dead, and we are not,” Ken calmly stated. “That is as good a starting place as we can have, considering everything. I think you won, and Constance would be proud of you.”
“I suppose you are right, but I still miss her,” Janae replied. “I let her down.”
Ken moved over and placed his arm around her, and she snuggled up to him. “Losing a loved one is never easy. Gone is gone, and we have lost all of Dome 17. I know I am just one, fallible man, but I am here.”
“I just wish I knew more what here really is about.”
“I think we will be finding out,” Ken replied. “Yes, I do.”
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John Thornton loves to read science fiction and has since he was a child, but over the last few years, has taken to writing science fiction, by putting down the stories he has pondered in his head for well over thirty years, and does this while he lives with his understanding, compassionate, and wonderful wife—between visits by his grown daughters and their husbands—and two strange dogs, one of which is old and terribly crippled in her legs, which makes it difficult for her to climb the stairs into their trailer home; however, since John was an RN, and worked in ICUs for numerous years, he has been able to nurse that old dog along so that she has a reasonably comfortable, although not very mobile life, while the other dog does loves to run, jump, and play, especially games which involve chasing some object or another that is thrown, such as a frisbee, kong, ball, or other object, and that same dog would chase those items until he puked, which he did once, when visiting one of John’s friend’s houses, and just after John and his friend discussed how long the dog would run and play, and this was all while he was being watched by that same friend’s two sons, who are some really sweet boys, but he is not sure if they like science fiction or not, as he has not asked them about that, nonetheless, some have accused John of writing short, choppy, and stilted sentences, but he is not sure that is an accurate criticism, as he can put together long and rambling sentences, which really should be punctuated better to make them less of run-on sentences, and more concise, but he avoids that except when he feels like being rather silly. Seriously, John is especially thankful to one special daughter regarding this novel. She sat with him and talked about how he had written himself into a corner. She encouraged him to let the characters loose! That aided him greatly. Thank you!
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