Guided by Starlight
Page 37
“I’ve made my decision,” Isadora said. “And as you said, productivity will still rise. We can handle it not rising as fast as humanly possible.”
Vincent nodded but stayed silent. Isadora searched his face for clues, but the engineer was, as always, damnably opaque. “You disapprove?” she asked, grinning to make sure he knew she was comfortable with him speaking his true thoughts.
Vincent ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “No,” he said at last, shaking his head. “I think you are right. I know from experience that the practical thing to do isn’t always the right thing to do.”
Isadora nodded gratefully. “That is a lesson I’ve come to appreciate,” she said.
“Anyway,” Vincent said, leaning forward in his chair, “we have a much better system in place now. We have a medical team on hand to help with hibernation sickness, plus primers on hand to describe the situation here in the Natonus System. We have therapists and counselors ready to help those struggling with psychological scars.”
The man’s meaning was clear: we have the infrastructure in place to bring out thousands quickly and efficiently. None of the new colonists would have to go through the chaotic mess Isadora and Vincent had experienced.
“But of course, bringing thousands out of cryo all starts with a single person,” Vincent continued, giving Isadora a knowing smile. “I thought you might like to do the honors.”
“Yes,” Isadora said, her heart suddenly leaping inside her chest. “I might like that.”
They said friendly partings, and Isadora left his cabin, passed a group of Preserver crew she didn’t recognize, and arrived at the ship’s main turbolift station. She took the lift to the cryo bay where she had first woken up, over seven months ago.
The door slid open. It wasn’t as cold as last time—helps being fully dressed, she thought—but it was just as quiet as she had remembered. Or had imagined, every time she pictured this moment.
She stepped out onto the catwalk, the clank of her work shoes echoing through the chamber. Other than the harsh beat of her footsteps and the light hum of the Preserver’s life support system, everything was silent. Isadora could hear her heart beating as she continued down the catwalk. Second exit on your right, she hardly needed to remind herself.
She paused at the mouth of the room. The problem with finally arriving at a much-anticipated moment like this was that it never ended up being as dramatic as you pictured in your head. But Isadora hardly cared about theatrics.
Everything else—New Arcena, her work responsibilities, all the lessons she had absorbed while leading her people—faded away. All she wanted in the universe was in the cryo pod at the end of the row.
She approached Meredith’s pod.
Her daughter’s face looked just as angelic as Isadora remembered. It was like she had just been taking an afternoon nap. How ridiculous, Isadora thought. She had outgrown those kinds of things long ago.
Isadora’s right hand hovered to her mouth for only a second before moving, shakily, to the terminal next to her daughter’s pod. The display showed that her life signs were perfectly steady. Ready to wake up.
Isadora pressed the button.
A sharp hiss filled the chamber as the bottom of the cryo pod cracked open, and a flood of mist spilled out. Next came the mechanical groan of the glass cover as it slowly rose, until it stopped at a 90-degree angle.
Tubes connected to Meredith’s body retracted into the pod automatically, and Isadora saw her daughter’s eyes move from side to side beneath her eyelids. A violent shiver suddenly wracked Meredith’s body. She stumbled forward.
When Isadora had been brought out of cryo, she hadn’t even remembered this part of the process. She figured she had stumbled too, since she had woken up on the floor. And back then, she had no one to catch her.
Her daughter fell into Isadora’s open arms. She was heavier than Isadora remembered, a product of a sudden teenage growth spurt a few years earlier. Slowly, she lowered Meredith further toward the floor, until her daughter’s head was lying on a pillow of her own clumped-up hair, splayed out on Isadora’s lap.
Meredith coughed and dry-heaved, just like Isadora had done. She ran her hand through her daughter’s hair gently, massaging the scalp. “It’s okay,” she cooed. “You’re okay. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
Isadora hugged her daughter tighter than she thought she could. Slowly, the coughing and the heaving subsided. She felt her daughter’s hands inch forward until they locked behind Isadora’s back.
The wetness around Isadora’s eyes turned to full streams of tears as she cradled and rocked her daughter. “Shhh,” Isadora said. “I’m here.” She gently picked Meredith up until her head was resting on Isadora’s chest, leaned down, and kissed her forehead.
Meredith’s eyes were moving more rapidly now. At last, her eyelids slid open and her pupils gazed up at Isadora. Recognition flashed across her daughter’s eyes. “Mom?” Meredith whispered. All Isadora could do was nod between sobs. “Where am I?” her daughter asked.
A single laugh escaped Isadora’s mouth, its echo filling the chamber with warmth, like a comforting blanket that enveloped both of them.
“Welcome home,” she said.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
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I had imagined writing a novel of this length to be a solitary enterprise. As with many things, I was pretty damn wrong about that. My first thanks, of course, go to Sarah, who really hit it out of the park on this one. She somehow trudged her way through the muck of my unedited first drafts (sorry dear!), entertained endless conversations about cool alien plant ideas, and found time for emotional support on top of that. I also have to thank Angela, Brian, Joe, and Tiffany for providing high quality feedback (including needing more cool alien plants), week after week. If you enjoyed anything at all in the book you just read, chances are it was due to their incredible critiquing powers. The first two chapters received outstanding feedback from the Austin SlugTribe writers group. Natasha Snow (Natasha Snow Designs; www.natashasnowdesigns.com) deserves a shout-out for a truly badass cover that made my jaw drop the first time I saw it. Gratitude also goes to fellow self-published author Felicia Davin, who provided enormous insight into the self-publishing process, and who helped me rewrite the blurb. Thanks go to my parents for nurturing my creative side from the get-go, and lastly to the reader, for getting here with me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Matt Levin lives in Texas with his wife and two dogs. He enjoys running, swimming, and backpacking while not writing. As well as staying approximately six feet away from everyone. Join him on Facebook at @mattlevinwriter, or follow his work at mattlevinwriter.wordpress.com.