The World Forgot

by Martin Leicht

  “And just how do you think they’ll react to that, huh? Any of them. You think mankind has a real capacity to accept something so new and different? You think the Almiri will stand for sullying their perfect race?” She gestures back toward the radio. “The news already has stories of protests in the cities, of Almiri ships taking off to find another home separate from the ‘lower’ species. How long before unrest and disdain lead back to the path they always take—fear and loathing? How long before the Almiri’s solution—extermination—is back on the table?”

  Zee takes another step toward me. This time I don’t shrink away. She puts a hand on my arm and looks me in the eye.

  “There’s still time. You can come with us. We won’t be on the sidelines anymore. We’ll be prepared for whatever comes.”

  “What makes you so sure we can’t all live harmoniously?” Cole asks her. “How can you possibly know that we can’t live together in peace?”

  “Because I know!” Zee is shouting now, enraged. “I’ve seen it. Don’t you understand? Elvan, your daughter’s place should be with her own people. That’s who she can trust to protect her. Come with us, and I can help you raise her, the way I should have raised you.”

  “You had no idea we’d find you,” I say, the realization suddenly hitting me. Olivia gurgles and grips my thumb, squeezing it tightly. “You weren’t waiting for us here, in this place. You were going to take Olivia, go underground. Teach her to be a distrusting, paranoid crazy person, just like you.”

  “Elvan—”

  “She’s not your daughter. I am your daughter. At least I was.” I turn and walk back toward the beach. Chloe falls into place beside me, giving Zee a sarcastic good-bye wave as we go. Zee starts after me, but Cole blocks her path.

  “You’re being stupid, Elvan!” Zee screeches at me. “This is the only way! You’re making a mistake, and it’s your daughter who’ll pay for it.”

  I spin around and glare daggers through my mother. I want to shout a lot of things at her, especially about how she shouldn’t exactly apply for a guest lecturer position in the field of How Not to Suck at Motherhood. And I’d like to illustrate my point with some of the choicest curse words I’ve ever had the good fortune to come across. But I steel myself, try to reach some inner calm, or at least lower my blood pressure to normal levels. This is not about me anymore, I tell myself. It’s about Olivia.

  “You know,” I say calmly. “You’re right about one thing. There are Almiri leaving. There are definitely some who don’t want to see the big picture, still think they’re the big cheese. And so they’re leaving. And you know what? They’ll die. There are humans who are scared of change, scared of something different. But you know what? They’ll adapt. And guess what else, Zee? There are Jin’Kai already turning themselves in, surrendering to authorities, willing to pay the price for their crimes. Because they want in on the ‘grand experiment.’ They understand the stakes of the game, a lot better than you. I’ve met some Almiri who are real douche bags, and I’ve met some who are extraordinary heroes. I’ve met Jin’Kai who wouldn’t think twice about killing just to prove a point, and I’ve met one who died to protect the girl he loved. I’ve met Enosi I would trust with my life . . . and I’ve met you. Your problem, Zee, is that you can’t get past where people come from, when all that really matters is where they’re headed.”

  “Don’t come running to me when your brave new world disappoints you,” she spits at me.

  “Well,” I say. “I’ve met you. And I’ve met the world. And I think I’ll put my faith in the world.”

  And with that, I turn again, and walk off with Chloe by my side. Zee is shouting something while Cole holds her back, but the crashing of the waves against the rocks drowns out whatever hollow protests she might be making.

  “So, is that it?” Chloe asks. “You’re done with her?”

  “It would appear so,” I say, trying to keep the tears welling in my eyes from spilling down over my cheeks. Olivia makes a high cooing sound and stares with wonder at Chloe. Chloe makes a sort of fish face, and Olivia giggles, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “But you never know,” I continue. “Sometimes people can surprise you.”

  Epilogue

  “We’re here,” Dad says as he pulls the car into the private lot. “Donald, I trust you’ll feel better with a little fresh air.”

  “I’m okay, Mr. Nara,” Ducky says, not entirely convincingly, as he opens his door and exits the car. I begin to fiddle with the straps on Olivia’s car seat, a ridiculous contraption that Dad researched and purchased and insists on using whenever we drive the baby around in the old car. It takes me five minutes, minimum, to figure out how to dismantle the many redundant belts and harnesses every single time we go anywhere.

  “Need a hand?” Cole asks. He sits on the other side of Olivia, playing the “spinning finger” game that seems to amuse him more than it does her.

  “No,” I say. “I’ve got it. Why don’t you help them with the bags?”

  Cole gives me an awkward half smile and obliges. I feel a little bad for blowing him off when he’s just trying to be helpful, but right now every reminder of what he could be doing is making me more and more miserable.

  It’s not that I still love Cole. At least in a romantic sense. I don’t. It took me a while, but I’ve come to a definite conclusion on that front. But that doesn’t mean I won’t miss him when he’s gone. After all, not being in a relationship with your child’s father is one thing. Having him blast off into space on a dangerous mission with no end point is something else entirely.

  When I finally get Olivia free from the Dad-approved safety seat, I lift her out of the car and make my way with Dad, Ducky, and Cole across the lot and toward the flightport that will shuttle us to the takeoff site for the Nautilus, the spanking new deep-space craft they’ll be trekking on. Waiting for us at the shuttle stop are Marnie and Chloe, engaged in an animated conversation.

  “Hey, you two,” I say. “Everything cool?”

  “It’s fine,” Chloe says. “Just a disagreement on the best way to incapacitate an attacker. I still say it’s the groin.”

  “Not if ye dinnae wanta be seen comin’ from a light-year off,” Marnie replies. She grabs Chloe’s shoulder and makes to jam her heel down on the top of Chloe’s foot, in a weird slow-motion demonstration. “Ye go fer the instep, always,” she insists.

  “Right,” I reply. “Obviously.” Chloe and Marnie have gotten to be fairly close as they’ve prepared for their journey into the cosmos. I guess being the only two women aboard, they’ve decided that they should form some sort of alliance.

  “Well, will ye look at tha’?” Marnie coos, calling off her assault demonstration and bringing her face down to meet Olivia’s. “She’s learnt to wave already! By the time we get back, she’ll be flying her own ship, and tha’.”

  “Olivia won’t be flying any ships until she’s at least two,” I reply. And I don’t tell Marnie, but I don’t think Olivia’s waving so much as flapping her hand in front of her face in an attempt to land it in her mouth. I’ve been watching her carefully for signs of supergrowth, but as far as I can tell, all Marsden did was extract her DNA. Thank goodness. I plan to be along for every milestone, big or small, from here on out.

  I can see Chloe focusing on the baby with that poorly veiled intense stare that she’s developed whenever we’re together.

  “Would you like to hold her?” I ask, already knowing exactly the response I’m going to get.

  “Well, um, sure, if your arms are tired,” Chloe answers, straining to sound completely uninterested.

  “Oh, exhausted,” I say, smiling. Chloe eagerly accepts the wriggling baby and rocks her gently in her arms. As always when being held by her doppel, Olivia focuses in on Chloe like her gaze is laser-guided, her brow crinkled in wonderment, her mouth pursed into a perfect little o.

  �
��So, I haven’t decided what she should call you when we communicate,” I say. “I mean, if we’re able. Do you want to be Aunt Chloe, Cousin Chloe? I guess ‘sister’ would be the closest thing to true, but that might raise too many questions too soon.”

  “Whatever. Like I care,” Chloe says. Her eyes dart up at me quickly before falling back down onto Olivia. “Aunt Chloe’s fine.”

  “Great, then it’s settled.”

  Chloe’s mouth goes thin. “You’re not going to be one of those moms who sends vidcaps, like, every twenty seconds, are you?” she asks. But even with the rehearsed disdain in her voice, the way she bounces Olivia like an old pro undercuts her apathetic posturing. “Like, ‘Here’s the baby farting!’ ‘Here’s the face she makes when she smells mustard.’ ‘Here she is at—’ Wow, did you see that? She went right for my nose! Such a strong grip, Wivvie. You’re such a strong girl!” She stops herself when she realizes we’re all staring at her, smirking, and she blushes sheepishly.

  The shuttle pulls into the stop, the doors slide open, and we all step inside to be whisked toward the takeoff pad.

  “You don’t even need the vidcaps,” Cole tells Chloe, smiling and cooing at the baby just as big as everyone else. Olivia really is a happiness magnet. “You already know she’s going to turn out exactly like you.”

  “Well, probably not exactly like me,” Chloe replies. She bounces the source of her genetic material on her hip. “Nature versus nurture, and all that.”

  “Just when, precisely, in your two-week growing-up period did you have time to learn about nature versus nurture?” Ducky cuts in.

  Chloe rolls her eyes. “It was an exhaustive course,” she explains.

  “Olivia may not be exactly the same as you,” I tell Chloe. And I offer her a genuine smile. “But she sure could do a lot worse.”

  Chloe blinks and turns her face to the floor.

  “This is, like, the weirdest, sweetest thing ever,” Ducky says.

  The shuttle comes to a halt, and the doors swing open onto the launch pad. The rest of the crew of this crazy mission is standing at attention, waiting for us. Oates tips his cap to us politely as we disembark and start toward the Nautilus.

  “Ladies, gentlemen. Shall we?” he says in that wonderful British lilt.

  “Just promise me to come back not-blown-up,” I say, looking at each of them in turn. And goddamn that lump in my throat. “That goes for all of you.”

  “I shall do my utmost, miss,” Oates tells me.

  “Are ye sure ye cannae join us?” Marnie asks. “I woulda thought ye’d be jumping at the chance, an adventurer such as yerself.”

  At that, I snort. “Flying off into the great unknown? Keeping tabs on the entire Jin’Kai fleet while avoiding capture? Trying to find clues as to where the ancient martian civilization scampered off to? All in a ship too small to transport a varsity soccer team? No thanks.” I let Olivia grab my finger. “I just saved the planet,” I tell Marnie. “The universe can manage without me for a little while. Besides”—Olivia giggles that perfect, heartwarming laugh of hers, as if on cue—“there’s another tiny matter that requires my attention at the moment. I mean, someone’s got to make sure she grows up in the spirit of interspecies cooperation. We’d hate for her to take after her grandmother. Wouldn’t we, Wivvie?” I tickle her chin, and she blows a spit bubble out of the side of her mouth in reply.

  “You shall be with us in spirit, miss,” Oates puts in.

  “Oh, you’ll have so many badasses on board, you won’t even miss me,” I say. I grin at Oates. “I mean, any killer whales out there, I dare them to get by you guys. And Cole here”—I punch his arm playfully (when was the last time I did that?)—“I think he’s proven he’s more than just a cute butt.”

  Cole wrinkles his nose at me.

  “Okay, sorry,” I say. “I take it back. You are just a cute butt.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “It isn’t that. I . . .” He blinks at me. “I’m not going. On the ship. I’m staying here. I . . . I thought you knew that.”

  Perhaps I shouldn’t be, but I am flabbergasted. “You’re staying here?” I ask. The action hero star? “But . . . why?”

  “Why?” he repeats. Now it’s his turn to look confounded. “I thought that would’ve been obvious.” He glances down at Olivia, who returns his warm smile.

  Oh yeah. The baby. Cole’s baby.

  Dur.

  “We’re a family,” Cole tells me. “I plan on having it stay that way.”

  For one of the very few times in my life, I’m utterly speechless. To think, I once worried I’d have to raise this little girl all on my own, and now here the little squirt has a whole family.

  “But . . .” A new worry has popped into my head. “I mean, I just want to clarify . . . I, like, don’t plan on getting back together with you. I mean, we can be Olivia’s family with­out . . . It’s not that I don’t like . . . I just don’t have romantic feelings . . .” I stop babbling when I realize that literally everyone is staring at me.

  “Wow,” Ducky puts in. “Maybe your dad and Byron should write an epic poem about you sticking your foot in your mouth.”

  Cole just smirks. “No worries, Elvs. I know I can be slow on the uptake, but I think even I’ve figured out that I like you better when we’re not a couple.”

  Call the fire department, ’cause my face is burning. “Uh. Good,” I say lamely. “Just, uh, don’t get back together with Britta or anything. Any of the Brittas.”

  “You’re not the boss of me,” he says.

  “Seriously, Cole, last I heard from them, they were legitimately considering forming a band called Britta and the Brittas.”

  “I promise nothing,” he says with that perfect smile of his. I smile back, suddenly overjoyed to know that I’m not losing my ex-boyfriend to the dark reaches of the outer cosmos.

  But then I remember something.

  “Wait, then what was with all the suitcases in the car?” I ask.

  “They’re mine,” Ducky says.

  The words hit me so quickly and so sharply that I feel like someone just fired a carving knife into my heart using some sort of high-powered knife-propelling device.

  “You’re going?” I ask, incredulous.

  “Well, don’t sound too surprised,” he says. “After all, who took out Dr. Marsden with his quick thinking?”

  “But you’re not a space commando!” I protest.

  “Not yet, maybe,” Ducky says. “But I’ll get there. I want to be the hero of my own story, Elvie. No more sidekicking. I’ll be the first man to barf in multiple solar systems!” We laugh at that. “Besides, I won’t be alone. I’ll have Marnie looking out for me. And Merv, of course.”

  Right. Before departing from Mars, the AI construct requested that he be brought back to Earth with us, now that his duties in the alien data depository were no longer needed. Dad and I figured out a way to transfer him from the martian computer system onto the world’s biggest memory drive (thank goodness for Almiri high tech), and he’s been integrated into the Nautilus’s computers to serve as the only “crew” member with any firsthand knowledge of the mysterious race they’ll be seeking out.

  “Trust me,” I say. “A few days with Merv up there, and you’ll be trying to swim home.”

  “I dunno,” Ducky says. “We’ve already discussed programming our own Jetman game to pass the time.”

  There’s no point even pretending that I’m not going to be all weepy about this, so I just let the waterworks burst forth as I wrap Ducky in an enormous hug.

  “I love you so much,” I say, crying into the crook of his neck. “Like, bonkers sauce.”

  “I know,” he says. I can feel his own tears on my cheek.

  “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like a sidekick,” I say. He pulls me back, and we look at each other through weepy girly eye
s, the both of us.

  “Hey, you never did that. I’m doing this for me. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. I just hope that you’ll understand, and be proud of me.”

  “I’m already proud of you, you dumb idiot,” I say, and we fall back into another big, soppy, wet hug.

  • • •

  Standing at the base of the ship’s ramp, Chloe is the last to say good-bye before boarding. She shuffles her feet awkwardly, not looking at me or Cole but instead focusing all her attention on Olivia, who rests comfortably in her arms.

  “It’s so weird,” she says. “She’s, like, older than me, but not.”

  “Of all the weird crap over the past year, you holding your infant self is definitely in the top five,” I agree.

  “I’m glad we were able to get her back,” Chloe says. “I’m glad at least one of us will get to have a childhood. Make it a good one, all right?”

  “Cross my heart and blah, blah, blah,” I say. “We’ll do our very best. And when you come back—”

  “If I come back,” she interrupts.

  “When. We’ll be here. And you can make sure we did everything right for your ‘niece.’”

  “I know you will. You’re a great mom.”

  She leans in close to my ear, so only I can hear. “Not every twenty seconds,” she tells me. “But a vidcap every now and then probably wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

  “I promise,” I say.

  She carefully hands Olivia off to Cole, and to my surprise she pulls us all into a Cole-Elvie-Olivia-Chloe sandwich.

  “You guys aren’t the worst,” she says.

  “Thanks?” Cole replies.

  She disengages from the family group hug, turns, and, just like that, walks up the platform and disappears inside the ship. I wonder if it’s the last I’ll ever see of her.