Runs In The Family

by Kevin Ikenberry

  “Yes.”

  “We engineered it that way. By spending time on Earth and learning as much about your cultures as we could, we were able to build a place that allows humans to acclimate to deep space travel. Virtually every core-bound transport comes through Libretto for that reason.”

  And why Munsen put me here to wait for the Ticonderoga. Mairin looked around as she chewed on her sushi. The quaint restaurants, the shopping district...the shopping malls. The feelings rushed up quickly. “It’s too perfect,” she said and turned to look at Tally. “You’ve essentially created what Earth should have continued to be.”

  Tally smirked, “And why did it fail to do that?”

  “America, really. Their citizens all had unalienable rights for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, but as the media portrayed happiness to be a vapid, self and celebrity obsessed, thrill-seeking, camera-loving idiot, that’s where most of the world’s youth went.” She sipped from her beer, expecting a mental chiding but received none. If anything, she felt a little passion burning in her stomach. “And let’s talk about celebrities. Before the Hollywood Amendment, male and female actors would make nearly a thousand percent more per feature film than the average family made in a year. Nobody bothered to stand up and say enough is enough. To that end, people with no measurable talent were lauded and showered with attention and money.”

  Tally nodded. “And the public would love them and pay them more and more, wouldn’t they? Such a waste of time and money.”

  “Just like professional athletes.” Mairin shrugged. “It’s a shame that First Contact came too late to save America from itself.”

  “That’s where your imprint is from, right?”

  Mairin took a breath. “My great-great-great grandfather. Died during the Afghanistan War in two thousand and sixteen. That’s all I know.”

  “No wonder you’re quite passionate about it,” Tally laughed.

  Mairin blushed again, “I didn’t really know he was.”

  “Random memories and emotional responses are part of what imprinting is about. Not that it’s an easy process to endure, but over time it gets easier to deal with. The very passionate responses are muted with time and with logic, which increases exponentially the longer you retain the imprint. Perhaps you should look into his history.”

  Made sense to Mairin. “There are so many emotions, but the physical triggers have been good.”

  “How many have you had?”

  “This is my second,” she gestured with her chopsticks as her mouth was full. “Delicious.”

  “Maybe one more to go,” Tally commented. “Most of the time, a physical trigger is something that soothed the imprint and should have the same effect for you. Very rarely are triggers harmful.” They sat in silence for a moment, each eating from their plates quietly as the conversation lulled.

  Mairin smiled. “So what do you do? I mean, outside of studying architecture on Earth and all?”

  “Like most Styrahi I have two vocations, and one is a service vocation. I am an architect part of what you call a year, and for the other part I help to monitor natural resources and planetary ecosystems.”

  “How do you monitor them?”

  Tally smiled. “Like scientists monitor anything and everything. I live outside the dome and monitor about two hundred acres of forest and wetlands. It’s quiet, remote, and absolutely beautiful at sunrise and sunset.”

  Mairin nodded and caught herself hoping to find out just how beautiful it was. “Are you counting birds and bees?”

  “No.” Tally laughed and Mairin loved the sound of it. “We use technology, but we’re more interested in preserving what we have. That’s why we developed imprinting and why most of our colony planets strive towards homeostasis. Libretto is almost to that point, especially as we keep the dome separate from most of our resources.”

  “Sounds like a lot of work.”

  Tally shrugged. “Not as much as you might think, and being outside the dome allows me greater freedoms than inside. I love a good sushi night, but more often I’m content to be home.”

  Mairin didn’t say anything. Tally’s life sounded idyllic and happy, unlike her own life on Eden. The hurt would never truly fade, and Mairin accepted that, but relished the opportunity to dream about something different. Looking at Tally, Mairin wondered how different it could be. She played with another piece of sushi, rolling it in the small bowl of soy and wasabi before putting it into her mouth. Mairin chewed slowly trying to think of something to say. Tally’s green eyes sparkled in the light and Mairin felt her heart skip a little.

  Tally turned to Mairin. “And do you have plans tonight?”

  Oh shit. “Well...I think...I mean I’d planned on wandering the city a little. Most likely I’ll go back to the hotel and sleep. Recovering from hypnosleep is difficult, I hear.” She smiled.

  Tally nodded and folded her napkin across her plate. “Well then, I hope to run into you again, Mairin.” She spoke for a long moment to the Vemeh in her native language, nothing that Mairin could catch. As she turned to walk away, she touched Mairin’s bare shoulder with a warm soft hand. “Cariad,” she said softly and walked away.

  Mairin sat at the bar and finished her sushi and beer staring into her reflection. What just happened? You were scared to death! Why? When Tally sat down I was thrilled, but I’m suddenly afraid to do anything? Why? Among the thoughts of the beautiful Styrahi, the strange conversation, and all of the confusion the imprint threw at her, she thought idly about how she’d managed to go out looking as bad as she did. Not many human women could look as perfect as a Styrahi, but she could at least do her hair and maybe wear some make-up, right?

  And just what in the world has come over me? Mairin popped another sushi piece into her mouth and sipped her beer. How much of this is your fault, Grandpa? Snorting back laughter, Mairin noticed her hands shook slightly.

  Am I a horny old soldier or a giddy schoolgirl trying to get a date? She tapped her chopsticks on the top of her last bite of sushi. Why can’t I be both? What’s really stopping me from being who I am?

  She thought of her classmates at Eden Academy, partying after commencement and getting ready for their new careers. She’d be out and amongst her new career before most of them completed the first week of their training. And she could likely be dead by then, too. So why the hell not? The answer was staring at her reflection in the glass facade of the sushi bar. I can do whatever I want. Why not be who I want to be? Even if that means I’m....well....it’s not gay if it’s an alien species, right?

  When Mairin left, the Vemeh chef gestured for her to return soon. She nodded and smiled, then walked straight back to the hotel wondering if the genetic therapy salon was still open. No sense looking like a hag, she thought with a grin. Her next thought equally shocked and excited her.

  What would Tallenaara like?

  * * * * *

  Six

  Emerging from foldspace held a litany of side-effects for the novice astronaut no matter the size of the vessel and the power of its fold engine. The manuals said the best course of action was, “to hold one’s breath and exhale slowly through the deceleration. Keeping your eyes closed helps as well.” None of the suggestions helped Admiral Takeshi Yamato despite more than four hundred folds and nearly a year of service aboard the Fleet Battle Platform Yokohama. Holding onto the armrests of his bridge chair, Yamato fought the urge to vomit as the inertial dampeners kicked in and slowed the Yokohama to point one five c on approach to the Winter colonies.

  Opening his eyes, Yamato fingered the 1-MC controls and spoke to the entire vessel, “All hands, this is the Admiral. Battle stations.”

  The bridge crew began a rapid-fire litany of pre-combat checks as the two thousand-meter-long vessel swung towards the tiny Winter colonies now appearing like a string of bright pearls instead of dull gray asteroids. Through the viewscreen, Yamato saw the running lights of the Fleet Battle Platform Viraat right where she should be, trailing six heavy
weapons cruisers in her wake. The Kuznetsov and her cruisers would arrive in the next few minutes as the fleet accelerated towards Winter Prime. Yamato looked at his communications specialist, “Signal the Viraat to come about and put her cruisers on line.”

  “Shields to maximum, Admiral. We have the debris field of the Surprise off our port bow, two points at ten thousand kilometers.” Shipboard Systems chimed from Yamato’s right.

  “Scanning Winter Prime. Showing more than eighteen thousand lifeforms on the surface, Admiral.” Weapons and Tactics responded. “Cannot break out species from this range, but it’s safe to say the Greys are there. Winter Prime had a population of just under ten thousand prior to invasion.”

  Yamato nodded and looked at the mission timer. The Surprise arrived on station four and a half minutes ago and had already succumbed. Eight hundred souls lost. Yamato calculated roughly six minutes to the first point where his drop squadrons could deliver ground forces to the planet. The plan to fall planetward from the cover of the light of the Winter system’s star should let them close further to the planet. Coming out of the sun had worked since Richtoffen’s era. Otherwise his drop and recovery squadrons would be at risk on the long journey to the planet’s surface and back. More time away from the battlefield left the troops on the ground. Yamato sighed and repressed a shake of his head. Too many logistical variables just like Telis, he thought. He looked off the port side and saw the Kuznetsov pull into formation. “Prepare all squadrons for drop, main cannon batteries to full power, concentrate shields on the front quarter.”

  Didn’t they hear me? Yamato thought for a split second as he followed the frozen stares of his bridge crew out the main vidscreen. “What the,” he managed to blurt before he caught himself, not from shame at his loss of military bearing but as the power of speech failed him. The disc of Winter Prime formed a perfect circle with a circumference of roughly five hundred miles. Silhouetted against the stars, a massive domed ship with seven conical pods ascended. The pods dropped away from the main body and took up positions between the mothership and the Yokohama’s battle group. Yamato watched the alien ships as they oriented on his vehicles and began to fire.

  “Drop all squadrons and engage all available weapon systems,” Yamato yelled and spurred his bridge team to action. “Get all of the drop squadrons clear and standby for combat maneuvers. All cruisers engage heavy; I say again heavy.” The Yokohama began to buck wildly from side to side as the shields failed under bombardment. The cruisers alongside unleashed a fusillade of nuclear tipped missiles into the collection of alien vessels.

  “Drop status!” Yamato barked.

  “Seventy-five percent,” Weapons and Tactics yelled above the concussion of continuous explosions. “Hull breaches in all forward spaces, Admiral. Forward guns are deadlined.”

  Yamato slammed a fist down on the armrest of his chair and stood. “Emergency drop all squadron bays now!”

  “Admiral, combat maneuvers?” The frightened young Ensign at Helm caught Yamato’s eye.

  Yamato looked at the bridge, saw the indicators that all squadrons had dropped free, and accepted fate. The Yokohama would not survive this engagement. But the soldiers needed time, and they needed a fighting chance. He’d give it to them. “You ever hear of Horatio Nelson, Helm?”

  The Ensign shook his head and Yamato chuckled. Another thing this future generation hadn’t learned. “Forget the maneuvers, son. Straight at ‘em.”

  Yamato keyed his terminal and sent a distress call Earthward. There wasn’t time to figure out where the Greys were headed, Yamato could only hope that time would allow Earth to prepare a successful defense. He blinked away a vision of cherry blossoms blowing in a fierce wind and straightened in his chair. If he could never return to Hokkaido, he would give the Greys one hell of a fight.

  * * * * *

  Seven

  Mairin kept to the hotel and its luxurious swimming pool and salon while her genetic therapy healed. A few minor adjustments here and there, giving herself a little more of the body, hair, and complexion she’d wanted since she’d played with dolls, but nothing outlandish like an extra breast or a third eye like some people paid dearly to have. She wanted to be different, but not freakishly different. Still, the addition of a stronger, more athletic figure and fuller breasts were very alien at first, but she accepted them easily enough. For the first time in her life, she had a healthy tan. The mirror had been her friend much of the time, as she marveled over how good she looked without her glasses and without her long, straight hair. Cropped so that it hung above the shoulders and draped down across her face with longish bangs, the darker hair shimmered in the light and made her look both older and confident. Her clothes fit much better with more of a woman’s figure to pour into them. The feeling thrilled her to the core.

  Helios rose over Libretto and dappled the sky with a shimmer of golden highlighted clouds. The streets were quiet, only a few birds squawked and pecked along the broad square. The crisp air made her smile, the dim light of a peaceful morning grounding her. Centering her. She was a new woman in body and mind, leaving her unrecognizable compared to how she’d left Eden. The genetic remapping left no marks, and she hardly had the headache the technicians warned her about. Dressed in tight shorts and an equally tight support bra, Mairin glanced down at her bare feet and chuckled to herself. Forgot running shoes. Guess we’ll see about this enhanced body of mine.

  She began to run in the short awkward strides of gym class while watching every inch of the approaching path for hazards to her feet. Down through the entertainment district she trotted, enjoying the solitude and relishing the feeling of something new. A new start. A new beginning. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. It’s a second chance. She smiled at the thought. Good morning, Grandpa. How are you today?

  She laughed at the thought and relaxed. There was no pain in her feet as she ran. Not even the slightest bit of discomfort. Running barefoot felt amazing and free. She requested some music in her neurals and activated a simple tracking program to see how far she’d run. The training aspect didn’t really matter mainly because the exertion just felt good. For the first time in her life, running brought a smile to her face.

  She ran the second mile in seven minutes even, without breathing hard. Leaning forward and urging herself onward, her breath got ragged when the third mile passed in a short five minutes. Sweat flowed out of her pores at mile number four. A bridge appeared and she turned around, having run the fifth mile in a little under five minutes. She held the pace easily and winced at the sudden change in music piped to her ears. Her neurals flashed the information and she squinted. Who is Pat Benatar? Her pace accelerated. After a few bars of the rock music, Mairin became a fan and kept it playing along as she returned to the hotel, showered, and went for breakfast.

  Over a plate of eggs and potatoes, she read a vmail from her parents and replied in simple text. Talking out loud to someone that no one else could see was just rude. The word cellphone bubbled up from her mind and she shrugged it off. Sometimes it was best to let the imprint make the connections on its own. Definitely much easier, she thought with a grin.

  A new message from Munsen said the Ticonderoga was a few weeks away now and that she should begin additional hypnotraining. She spent the morning with her programs and simulations, adding in both the Styrahi dialect and Welsh that she would report as purely recreational reasons, if asked. The afternoon was warm and pleasant, and the rooftop swimming pool beckoned.

  As night fell, she made a reservation for the next day at the championship golf course and decided to head out into the entertainment district for dinner. She dressed in a simple flowery sundress that accentuated her remapped figure and hugged her now slightly curvier frame in all the right places. A quick styling session at the salon perfected her look for the evening. The best part was that the technicians really didn’t change much at all, just a little enhancement here and there, and she felt like a new woman for the second time in two months. Amazi
ng what a more flattering female shape could do for confidence.

  Mairin wandered along the river looking for just the right place to eat when a tobacconist’s shop caught her eye. She walked through the open storefront, looking around with wide eyes, when a hand caught her arm.

  “Well now. Made a few changes I see.”

  The voice sent a shiver up her spine and her legs trembled in excitement. She’d hoped for this, dreamed of it, for the last three days. The crushing wanton anticipation, hoping to see those glittering green eyes and black silky hair. The warmth of Tally’s hand on her shoulder. The whisper as she’d left, all of it racing up in Mairin’s mind.

  “Tally.” Mairin turned and smiled up into Tallenaara’s eyes. “You like?

  Tally grinned. “Very much so, especially your hair. Most imprints go a little crazy with genetic remapping the first time. You’ve restrained it nicely.” She laughed. “Then again, most of the nice-looking human females we do get on this planet are remapped males taking every opportunity to explore life as a woman.”

  “That really happens?”

  “Every so often, though it’s been a while since I’ve personally known one.” Tally caught Mairin’s wandering eyes. “And you? Searching for something?” Tally asked with a toss of her head at the expansive and comfortably appointed store.

  Mairin shrugged. “Imprint.”

  “Another physical trigger,” Tally said. Her smile said she very clearly remembered the first time they met.

  Mairin blushed. “Now what do I do?”

  Tally smiled and pulled her into the store. An hour later they each emerged with a small parcel of cigars, and for Mairin a lighter and cutter that Tally purchased after much argument. Mairin smelled the humid air and exhaled more forcefully than she’d intended, like a desperate sigh. “It smells like rain.”

  “Time for the nahalla, our monsoons,” Tally explained. “For the next month it will rain every night or so. After a month, it will start to get cooler as winter approaches.”