Facsimile (18 page)

“Well, I can tell you one thing—I know what I want.”

I turn my head and examine her profile. A certain set to her jaw tells me she’s deadly serious. “What’s that?”

“I’m going to help the cybers fight for their rights.” Emie tosses her dark curls. “No more of this stupid bigotry. They are people just like us, and they deserve to be treated as such.”

“Going to lead the revolution?”

“If necessary.” Emie sits up, pressing her back to the room’s metal wall. “You could help me. Create an interactive campaign and upload it to the ’sphere. Blast out a petition on the holofone network … ”

“Using your hacking skills?”

Emie casts me an abashed grin. “Hmmm … might have to do a major upgrade on those. But with time, I’ll improve.”

“I don’t doubt it. But Emie, two girls on some half-assed planet aren’t going to have much influence over the people who matter.”

“Well,” Emie holds out her hand, and when I grasp it, she pulls me into a sitting position, “that’s where maybe it’d be good if you took your mom’s offer. You could be my accomplice on Earth.”

“Seriously?” I study her determined face for a moment. “Not sure I’ll be in any position to help. At least, not right away.”

“Your mom and the captain will be mixing with some big-money types, if what they say about Promissium is true. You could suck-up to them … ”

I can’t contain a gurgle of laughter. “This is me we’re discussing, right?”

“Just give it some thought,” says Emie without an answering smile. “I am going to accomplish this, Ann. Even if it takes me years and years. I’ve found the thing I was born to do, and I’m going to do it.” She tugs on one of her curls. “And cut my hair. I believe I’ll cut my hair short and stop working that cream into it. Let it go natural. Why should I care if some guy likes it better another way? This is me, and I think I’m pretty awesome all on my own.”

“You’ve always been awesome.” I lean in to give Emie a quick hug.

As my hands slide back she locks her arms about me and holds me tight. “You’re awesome too, and don’t you ever doubt it.” She pushes me back, still holding onto my shoulders. “You just need to figure out what you really want. You—not your mom or Raid or anyone else. Just you.”

“Yes.” I meet her penetrating gaze without hesitation. “I think maybe I do.”

***

Leaving Emie’s room, I fend off her mom’s attempt to convince me to stay for dinner and hurry to my family quarters.

I’m betting Mom hasn’t come home yet, and quickly see I’m right. Ignoring the thought of where she might be, I notice Dad’s slumped on the small cushioned bench that serves as our sofa, staring blankly into the screen of his holotablet.

“You all alone?” I stroll over and sit beside him.

He gives me a smile. “Not anymore.”

His tablet is turned off. I tap the screen. “Just contemplating the infinite?”

“Something like that.” He lays the tablet on the metal crate that functions as an end table. “You have that need-to-talk look. Something on your mind?”

I scoot closer and thread my arm through the crook created by his bent elbow. “Yes, but maybe I shouldn’t bring it up.”

He grins and pulls my arm tight against his. “Perfect way to ensure I’ll make you. Good going, chica.”

I take a deep breath. “The thing is, Mom said some stuff to me today. Shook me up.”

Dad’s grin fades. “Let me guess.” He stares at the opposite wall. “She told you we had to get married and that I’ve failed her miserably ever since?”

“Not quite in those words.” I chew on the inside of my cheek a moment before continuing. “She did say you promised to take us off Eco. Apparently, several times.”

Dad’s gusty sigh fills the silence. “She’s right about that.” He slides his arm away from mine. “Ah well, since she’s opened the forbidden box, I might as well let you see all the demons inside.” He sits up straighter. “I actually made a vow—twice. Once when I proposed and again on the night you were born.”

So Mom hadn’t been lying, or even embellishing the truth. I squirm on the lumpy padding covering the bench.

“The thing is, I meant it. I truly did. Although … ” Dad’s averts his face. “I admit it was mainly because I wanted your mom to say ‘yes’ the first time.”

“Because you loved her?”

“Actually, I’d say adored her. It’s a little different.” Dad shoots me a rueful smile. “I love you, and your grandparents. Your mother—that was something else. Not so healthy, maybe.” He leans back, crossing his arms behind his head to act as a buffer against the cold metal of the wall. “There weren’t as many kids in the beginning, of course. Not that we have a lot now, but back then … just a handful in any one age group. But even if there’d been thousands, Tara would’ve stood out. You must understand—I knew your mom all my life. She was always there—a brilliant blond angel. So beautiful, even as a child. I used to follow her around and try to give her things. Bright pebbles, a rare piece of candy, anything like that. Until her parents got worried and told me to back off. Actually, they told my parents to tell me.”

“Bet that went over well.” I catch his fleeting smile.

“Mama fumed but warned me to keep my distance. Still, there was little chance that Tara and I wouldn’t be thrown together over the years. But I hung back, just made polite conversation, or simply smiled. Worshipped from afar.”

There’s an edge of anger in his tone that surprises me. I pat his knee. “Until her parents died.”

“Yes. They were going to leave Eco, you know. I was going to lose her. Forever.” Dad stares at the ceiling, his expression blank. “Her parents were taking her to Earth. They’d worked overtime, saving credits from geologic consulting work on the ’sphere. The final exploration of the rock hills was part of that. One last job and they’d have enough for their passage. They’d made arrangements with a trader scheduled to land on Eco in a few weeks.” His lips twitch into an ironic smile. “Tara was already packed.”

“I didn’t know that.” I tap the toe of my boot against the floor. Mom has never mentioned this detail.

“Of course, that all changed when her parents died. The promised credits evaporated when your grandparents passed away without a will. That holodisc surfaced. And your mom fell apart. I always wondered how much of it was about losing them and how much was … ”

“Losing her chance for a life on Earth?”

Dad glances over at me. “A blend of the two, I suspect. Loss and frustration and anger—it wrecked her. She started doing crazy stuff. Drinking that swill Doug Frye cooks up, racing her bike like she was pursued by demons … I don’t know, maybe she was. At any rate, everyone tried to help. Even the kids her age—we did what we could. The funny thing is, my presence calmed her. She seemed better when she was with me. I listened, I held her, I never judged … ” Dad drops his arms and turns to me, taking my hands in his. “I adored her. As always. Constant as the Angel Star.”

“You saved her.”

Dad tightens his grip on my fingers. “No. I helped her pull herself back together. But I wasn’t doing it just for her. I know that now. After all these years, I can confess the truth. I took advantage of her, Ann. I used her need for comfort because I wanted—I needed—her. So desperately.” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t tell you this, you shouldn’t have to hear it. But I know your mother is leaving Eco. She’s found someone else to fulfill my vow. And even though I’m angry, and hurt, and just want to break things, I can’t allow you to think the worst of her. She doesn’t deserve that, no matter what.”

“You know?” I can only manage a ragged whisper.

“Yes. I’m not quite as blind as many think.” He lifts our clasped fingers and presses his stubbly cheek against the back of my hand. “Don’t hate her, Ann. That will only hurt you in the end. And I never want anything to hurt you.”

I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Papa. I know you still love her.”

“Oh, chica.” Dad’s grip on my fingers loosens. He drops my hands and pushes me back. Tears well in his eyes as he gazes into my face. “I wish that were true. But I’ve been worn away, like those pebbles you used to bring me when you were a little girl. Remember the one with the hole in it? So perfect, you thought some creature or alien being must have created it?”

I nod as I wipe my eyes with my fingers.

“Remember what I told you? That it was simply the wind blowing sand particles, polishing away layers of the stone?”

I do remember. A day where I sat in his lap and my mother … my mother was nestled close to us, examining my special stone. “You said it just kept being eaten away, in microscopic bites, by the sand. Until one day a tiny fissure appeared, and the fissure opened into a crack and the crack spread into a hole.”

Dad’s eyes are closed, and I wonder if he’s reliving that moment as well. “Not blasted away, not cut away, just worn away … by what, chica?”

“Time.”

My father leans in and kisses me on the forehead. “Yes, by time.” He stands and holds out his hands. “You understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes.” I allow him to pull me to my feet. “But sometimes, love grows stronger over time, doesn’t it Papa? I mean, I hope it does. I want to believe it can.”

“It can.” A smile illuminates his face. “All you have to do is look at your grandparents.” He swings my hands like he used to do when I was small enough for him to lift me off the floor. “And I love you more today, mi hija, than on the day you were born, though I would’ve sworn that was impossible.”

A fine web of lines radiates from the corners of his deep brown eyes. I realize he’s no longer young. Time, wearing everything away. “She’s asked me to come with her.”

“I see.” His smile fades. “And will you?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” He studies me for a moment. “You have to do what’s best for you, Anna-Maria. Not for me or for her—for you.”

“Funny, Emie just told me that.”

“She’s a smart girl.” Dad lifts one hand to touch my cheek. “So are you. I’ll be proud of you whatever you decide. Never forget that.”

I cover his hand with mine. “I never forget anything you tell me.” My fingers fall away slowly. As I head for my bedroom I call back over my shoulder, “And time won’t ever change that.”

“Hot in here.” Dace wipes the sweat from his forehead with the edge of his sleeve.

“Duh, it’s a greenhouse.” I tap one of the black nutrient bins with the toe of my boot. “Want to help me move this, or are you happy playing boss?”

“Sure.” Dace squats down to get a good grip on the bin. “Just you and your grandmother take care of all this?”

“No.” I grunt and tighten my stomach muscles as we lift the heavy container. “Over there across the aisle is fine.” After we set down the bin, I wipe my hands on my already stained jeans. “Several people are trained to work in the greenhouse. It’s too important to rely on just one or two colonists. But grandmother runs the place, and she and I spend the most time working here.”

Dace straightens and casts a glance over the jungle of vines and other hanging vegetation. “You’d starve without it.”

“Yes.” I’ve known this fact all my life, but hearing it from someone else makes it feel real. The work we do, my grandmother and I, is important. Perhaps not all that exciting or challenging, but essential. I look about me at the flourishing plants, vines, and dwarf trees. Our colony couldn’t survive without these fruits and vegetables. Simple as that. Yet—I glance over at my grandmother—not easy. It’s taken the lifelong devotion of someone who doesn’t really get much credit.

Dace has been shadowing me all morning. He claims he needs to understand the colony’s infrastructure for his research. Pushing back the damp hair that clings to his forehead, he casts another glance about the greenhouse. “Something to be proud of—keeping all this going.” His gaze lands on my grandmother, who’s testing the level of phosphorous in one of the nutrient solutions.

She gives Dace a smile and peers into her portable monitor. “It’s taken some doing, I can tell you that.”

“The entire colony would have failed if Grandmother hadn’t spent night after night here in the early days, coaxing the plants to grow. Or so Grandfather tells me. Of course, you could say ‘force’ instead of ‘coax.’”

Grandmother shakes her finger at me. “Always with the smart mouth, nieta.” She pockets her monitor and meets Dace’s speculative stare. “It wasn’t that difficult. Easier than raising children.” Her eyes focus on me. “Or grandchildren.”

Dace turns his head but can’t quite hide his grin. I study his profile for a moment, wondering where he acquired his confidence. I know from our conversations he was raised in near-poverty and tormented by his peers over his lack of a father. Yet despite his outward diffidence, he’s not intimidated by others—no matter how old or wise or powerful. I guess it’s his devotion to research that trumps his fears. His dreams of discovery must outweigh any sense of inadequacy.

It’d be nice to have a dream like that—to study something that fascinates you, that you can pursue with interest your whole life. I shake my head. Stupid thoughts. I have a dream too. So what if it’s just leaving one place for another?