All of the families we’d reached out to had accepted our offer, and the local government had approved their immigration. Campbell’s sister Judith had actually been one of the first to undergo the therapy. She had messaged me that morning after Oz did her pregnancy test.
It was positive.
Even as the helicopter angled to land, I could make out Oz and Andreas standing down by the water. Hatch was up by the house, but he was already heading down the steps to meet us. It would take time to finish building the house. Time to spread the anti-viral and to begin reversing at least one of the consequences of the pandemic.
It would take time to bring some scientists and doctors out of hiding. It would take time to train more.
Time we had.
Because I hadn’t been wrong when I told Smithson that colonizing a new world wouldn’t fix our problems. We were the source of so many problems. But we were also the source of the solutions. We just had to work together, and we had to never give up. Just like my guys had never given up on me.
Everything else?
Well, it was a work in progress and I had news of my own for them, news I wanted to tell them when they were all together.
As soon as the helicopter touched down, Hatch was at the door, pulling it open, and then he was hauling me out for a hug. With a laugh, he danced backward in the sand, carrying me. The world fell away when he kissed me. Sometimes, though rarely, I missed feeling what he felt. But I also loved the puzzle of solving him on my own, too.
The toxin we’d used had an interesting side effect. Though we weren’t dead for more than a few minutes, it shut down the nanites, and that connection between us had died with them. The wind from the blades ruffled his hair.
While his hair had grown back thick and lush, it had also returned with two streaks of pure silver. He referred to them as his wisdom stripes. I thought they gave him a distinguished edge to his rakish air. After another kiss, he passed me to Oz, who cradled my face in his skilled hands before he kissed me lightly. There was a gleam in his eyes as he smiled at me.
They all did that now. They smiled so much more. There were new lines to their faces, signs of what we’d all been through, but the light in their eyes told me they thought it was worth it. Andreas tugged me away and wrapped his arms around me as he cradled me to his chest. Our security detail left the helicopter, and with a wave, made their way up the beach. Then the helicopter took off and we stood in a loose circle, with only the waves and the distant hammering at the compound to fill the air.
As I looked from face to face, I had to laugh. This right here was worth fighting for. Worth dying for.
More than that…
They were worth living for.
“Gentlemen,” I began, “I have some news…”
From the Journals of Valda Bashan
What happens in life writes a story in the flesh. Those words, you could say, were the mantra of my childhood. My parents were a Romeo and Juliet love story in an age where science and religion were once again on the precipice of war. Does that sound a little melodramatic? Maybe. To me, they were always my parents. I didn’t understand the significant issues confronting not only their relationship, but also their alliance.
For years, I didn’t understand the choices they made, nor how those choices shaped not only the life I led, but my own choices. I couldn’t begin to understand until I found a love like they had shared. I did then.
Dirk Rossi, captain retired. He remains my steadfast protector, always at my side, always guarding my back. He shelters our whole family with his protection. Hatch Benedict, the rogue and scoundrel who will beg, borrow, or steal whatever we need. More, he’ll design it. He embraces his imagination every day to create new wonders or just to fix the old ones. Though I still have some reservations about the rather ancient prop plane he ‘acquired.’
Andreas has taken to managing the community that has grown up around us, much to my chagrin. He arranges everything from events to sports to an actual book club. The kids love him. Oz spends his time working with me. We have a global team these days sharing that burden, which allows me to set aside my work at an agreed upon time each day so we can go out and join the family. Sometimes it’s just for meals, other times for films or games. Sometimes, we just go for long walks.
Our world is so much different today from what it used to be. It has laughter, music, family days, and sunsets curled up together. The guys still argue occasionally. Hatch can still be ribald, Oz focused, Andreas distracted with distant thoughts, and Dirk will watch over all of them with the same stern eye he affixes to me if he thinks I’m getting lost in my work.
Ten years ago, we made a choice that allowed us to begin this life together. The world is far from perfect. Birth rates have been rising annually. Multiple births are also up. Fertility, it seems, likes what we’ve done with the treatments. Earth reclamation projects are in full swing. Urban and rural areas alike are going through something of a renaissance.
The world is healing, and we have hope. As Andreas is fond of reminding me, sometimes, hope is all we need. Still, as I glance out the windows of my office and see my family down on the beach, I can’t imagine a better world than this one. Dirk stands studiously over the girls that I had just seven months after we secured the accords, while they argue over the castle they are building. It’s a familiar argument. They’ve had it so many times, I could practically recite it.
Their younger brothers, another set of twins, came along just two years later, and Andreas and Hatch have them flying kites. It’s kind of perfect. Oz is sprawled in the sand, sunglasses on his face and a book in his lap, along with the little boy who came along all on his own, three years after the second set of twins. An unexpected surprise and joy, he and his siblings filled my soul in and offered me the last piece of the puzzle that was my mother.
There was nothing I will not do for my children. Our children. We’re rebuilding this world so it will be better for them. We will teach them to work together. To believe in each other. To have hope. To never give up.
Most of all, we’ll love them.
And today, I get to tell them they will have new siblings come winter. Three little heartbeats flickered on the monitor when I ran the ultrasound. Just a little more love for us to share and to protect.
What happens in life does write its story in the flesh. Our children are that tale. I was my mother’s and my father’s.
You are all my greatest hope. You and your fathers are the reasons for all my tomorrows.
I am free.
I am exactly where I want to be.
Author’s Note
Two years ago, I began this journey and then paused. The pause was never planned or deliberate, but a product of the depression that had washed away the joy I took in writing. After so long a sojourn away, I admit to being a little worried about reconnecting with these characters.
In some ways, the books I write are very much a product of who I am in that moment. I was not the person I was two years earlier. So how did I forge this connection anew? Gradually, as I dug in, I realized that they were not the people they’d been in the memoriam either. They never had been. Not really. From the constructs to the moment Hatch gave her access to all the previous frameworks, they were all a somewhat idealized version of themselves.