Date Point: 4y 10m AV
Dominion Embassy Station, Earth/Luna L1 point, Sol system
Dr. Anees Hussein
Shaking hands with a Corti was an exercise in delicacy. Dr. Hussein thought of himself as an old and increasingly frail man, but he still had the grip strength to cause serious harm to the alien’s hand if he applied a little too much vigor. So it wasn’t so much a handshake as a handtouch.
Still. It was a civil, civilized gesture, and that alone was a mark of just how much his relationship with the Directorate’s ambassador, Medrà—and through them both, Earth’s relationship with the Corti Directorate—had evolved in a relatively short space of time.
“Thank you for seeing me.” he said, gratefully taking his seat when the Corti had gestured towards it with those long, fine-boned fingers that he could so easily have pulverized.
Medrà affected a small, businesslike smile. “Thank you for asking nicely.” he retorted. “The Gaoians continue to think they can just barge into my office whenever they please.”
“The Gaoians don’t want something from you.” Hussein replied. He had quickly learned that the Corti truly loved the direct approach. If you irritated them, they could skate and slide around the issue and deal in lies and half-truths with the best of them, but if you cut straight to the matter at hand and phrased things bluntly, they responded in kind and pretty soon you had either a deal or an argument. It had been true of Medrà’s predecessor, and it was true of Medrà.
After the tangled web of his home country’s politics, it was paradise.
“Indeed? That seems like a deviation from your previous position.”
“There has been a change of strategy.” Anees revealed. “Opportunities that we are now considering the possibility of exploiting, to the mutual benefit of any species who partners with us in exploiting them.”
Medrà sat back. “Please don’t be vague, Doctor.”
“All in good time. I would rather tell you what we need. I’m sure you will see our intent soon enough.”
“Please, do tell me.” Medrà replied. That was another thing about Corti psychology. They couldn’t resist having both their ego flattered and their intellect challenged at the same time.
“Two things. We would like to purchase from you the technology to make a lightweight load-bearing exoskeleton that does not require a power source to provide assistance to a moving wearer.”
“Trivial. The other?”
“A drug. Cruezzir.”
Medrà sat forward. “That is not going to happen.” he stated, bluntly.
“Why not?”
“Cruezzir has a history of interacting…dangerously with human physiology. It has created two of the most notorious and effective criminals the galaxy has ever seen, in fact.”
“Yes, I’ve read their files.” Anees replied. “I also know enough about Cruezzir to be certain that, in their cases, it was applied incautiously and incorrectly, and that the long term effects are devastating in terms of mental health, which would be detrimental to our plans.”
Medrà stared at him, thoughtfully. “You’re creating super-soldiers.” he decided after a few seconds.
“An elite unit, certainly.” Anees conceded. “Possibly the most elite. But ‘super-soldiers’ may be going too far.”
“And what conceivable reason would we have for assisting the most dangerous species in the galaxy in creating the most dangerous soldiers they possibly can?”
“Ambassador, if we had designs on threatening the Corti, or anybody else for that matter, then I daresay we wouldn’t need an elite unit. Our regular infantry would easily suffice for any ground warfare conducted against any Dominion species, don’t you think? Why would we go to the expense and difficulty of creating a new elite?”
“In which case I’m intrigued as to the purpose of this hypothetical ‘elite’.” Medrà confessed. “What DO you intend to do with an asset like that?”
Anees allowed the inner ‘gotcha’ that rang triumphantly around his head to feed his best warm, closed-lipped smile. “Why, ambassador.” he said. “To clean up the mess we have made, of course.”
Date Point: 4y 10m AV
Folctha Colony, Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Adam Arés
“You’ve got to realise you’re asking me about classified information there, kid.”
“I know.” Adam had declined the offer to sit down opposite Captain Powell. He preferred to stand instead, resting his hands lightly on the back of the offered chair. “I’m not asking you to just tell me. I’m asking you what I have to do to earn it.”
Powell’s own chair creaked as he sat back and folded his arms, scrutinising Adam, who said nothing, trying not to fidget.
“Earn it.” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“Right.” Powell unfolded his arms and rubbed a thumb on his chin thoughtfully. “Why?” he asked.
The question threw Adam a bit, outraging him. “Wh–? What do you mean ‘why’?” he demanded. “My best friend is dead! So’s my mother! So’s everyone I went to school with. Millions of people!”
“Right.” Powell agreed, nodding amiably. “That rather proves that what you’re after, if it exists, is a big deal, doesn’t it? So…what are you going to do with the information, should you acquire it? Is it obsession? Curiosity? Revenge? What?”
“I want to do whatever I can to stop anyone else from dying!” Adam snapped.
Powell threw him again when his face split into a broad smile. “That so?” he asked.
“That’s so.”
The captain nodded, and sat forward. “Right then. If that’s your goal, then realistically, you’re looking at military service. And I don’t just mean becoming a jarhead or MP. I’m talking intel, special forces, something like that.”
“Not a problem.” Adam told him.
“Aye? Well, we’ll see. Now…” Powell rubbed his chin again. “Realistically speaking…the only two services that are doing anything in space right now are the Royal Navy and the US Air Force. Thanks to your Cimbrean citizenship, you’re eligible to join either service, but frankly you’re more American than Brit, so the latter’d maybe suit you a bit better.”
He sat back again. “As for what you do in your chosen service…well, that one’s your choice to make, I can’t advise you there.”
“How did you choose?” Adam asked him.
“Me? The motto.” Powell said. “’Through Strength and Guile.’ I liked that, thought it sounded right fookin’ badass.”
He noticed the change in Adam’s expression. “What?”
“I’ve…never heard you swear before.”
“I don’t swear around children.” Powell said, simply.
“I’m still only sixteen.”
“Maybe, but it’s not about how old you are, Arés. It’s about the choices you make and your reasons for making ‘em.”
He nodded toward the door. “This isn’t a decision to be made here in my office.” he said. “Hit the library, do some research, think about it. My door’s open, alright?”
Adam nodded, still a little stunned by the show of respect. “I…Thank you, captain.”
Ava seemed to spend every waking second playing with her inherited camera these days, familiarising herself with its functions and the different effects she could achieve by varying the shutter speed, aperture size, focus and more. When she wasn’t studying the device itself, she was studying what Sara had done with it, examining the photos their friend had taken and making notes about their arrangement composition and more. She’d co-opted an entire wall of their living room in fact, covering it in post-it notes and colour prints, not to mention having borrowed every single book on photography that Folctha’s library had.
“The motto?” she asked.
“I guess. It seems like as good a thing to go on as anything else.” Adam replied.
She put the camera down. “But…special forces, Adam? Won’t that take you away for a long time?”
He stopped searching for a second and turned in his seat. “…Yeah, it will.” he agreed.
They hugged, melting into each others’ arms without either of them needing to invite the other.
“What are you going to do, do you think?” He asked after a silent minute or so. She ran a hand through her curls.
“I guess…I want to help people too.” she said. “I want to make some sense of all this. And now this camera’s been left to me, and Sara always talked about being a photojournalist…”
“How do you even get started on that? It’s not like they have recruitment…”
“I’ve been doing my own research there.” Ava told him. “I thought I’d try for City University London.”
“I guess you’ll be away for a long time too then, huh?”
She nodded, resting her forehead against his. “I guess…”
She caught sight of what was on his screen and looked up. “I like that one.”
“Hmm?” he turned, and read it aloud. “’That Others May Live’?”
“Yeah.” She said. “What do you think?”
Adam stared at it for a few seconds, repeating it under his breath. “I think…that’s the one.” he said.
“Pararescue?” Powell looked genuinely stunned. “Bloody hell, Arés. I can’t fault your ambition, but are you sure?”
“The motto speaks to me.” Adam shrugged.
”…Aye, alright. But not to try and talk you out of it or owt like that, you’re setting yourself up for a really fookin’ difficult couple of years.”
“I know the training will be hard, but—”
“No.” Powell interrupted him, standing up. “You don’t. You have no fookin’ clue what hard really is, I promise you that.”
Adam was smart enough to shut up and let him say his piece. The captain dug into his foot locker and pulled out a small A5 notebook, which turned out to be pasted full of photographs and hand-written notes. He flipped through the first few pages until he alighted on a picture of a young, acne-scarred man who was gazing proudly out of the photograph. “This was me when I took the Potential Royal Marines Course.” he said. “Right dorky little shite, wasn’t I?”
Adam caught his eye, and realised Powell was amused at himself. “I fookin’ thought I was a proper Marine, I did. The PRMC is two and a half days, they test you in the gym and the assault course, take you on a three mile run…I thought ‘if this is what it’s like, this is going to be fookin’ easy.” He laughed silently, deep in his chest, and flipped the page “Then I went through the actual Royal Marines training.”
The next photo had less acne and a stronger, more Powell-like expression, worn by a young man in a black uniform and green beret, with a rifle held precisely by his side. “That was tough. The PRMC didn’t prepare me for it at all, it just meant I was tough enough to START the training without collapsing.”
He closed the book.
“Every step along the way, I came up against limits I didn’t know I had and went beyond them. Marines Commando training was fookin’ hell, but I cleared it. Now: To apply for the Special Boat Service, you need a minimum of two years’ service as a marine commando. Did that. Got some medals, too. Figured I was doing well. Then I applied for the SBS, and that finally brought me up against the joint UKSF selection program.”
He opened the book again, flipping to a series of pages filled with pictures of rolling, rugged mountains, many of them falling off to sheer drops. “The first phase of that ends in a test week: five back-to-back days of walking sixteen or so miles a day in the Welsh mountains with a fifty pound bag and a rifle, and on the last day? Forty miles, which you’ve got to finish in less than twenty hours.”
He sat down. “And it just gets tougher from there. Much tougher. Men have died in that training. I failed the first time, only barely managed it the second but managed it I fookin’ well did. Right?”
Adam nodded his understanding. “Okay…?”
“From what I’ve heard of it, I honestly don’t know if I could have made it through the Pararescue pipeline.” Powell confessed. His face was the very picture of deadly seriousness. “They call it ‘Superman School’ for a bloody good reason.”
”…But people do get through it.” Adam pointed out.
“Oh aye, they do. And if you think you’ll be one of them, then fookin’ well go for it. I just want you to have some idea of what you’d be getting yourself in for.”
“Let’s say I do manage it…” Adam said. “Will that get me in on the secret?”
Powell said nothing, but returned to his desk and sat down.
“Your first step,” he said, not answering the question, “…is recruitment. The nearest US armed forces recruiting center is technically in Seattle, ‘cause that’s the easiest place to get to from Scotch Creek. If you’re going to walk in there and say ‘I want to be a Pararescueman’ then it’s going to take, oh…a week or so, total, so you’ll need a hotel room.”
“That long?”
“You thought it was as easy as just ‘Hi there, I would like to soldier please’? You’ll have to take a…” Powell looked up, remembering a detail. “…ASVAB, I think it’s called. Vocational Aptitude test. They’ll put you through a physical and mental evaluation, you’ll talk to a special forces recruiter, the works.”
He sniffed. “If they take you—though I can’t see why they wouldn’t—you’ll go straight on from there to Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio for basic training. That’s eight weeks. You’ll graduate, see your family for the weekend, and then that’s it. You’re on to the PJ pipeline and you’ll find it a lot harder to see them again after that. Realistically? Christmas, and that’s about it. For two years, maybe longer.”
Adam went quiet and thought long and hard about that one.
“If that’s how I earn it, that’s how I earn it.” He said at last.
“Decision made, then?”
“Yes.”
Powell nodded, then stood and shook Adam’s hand. “Well then. I’ll be cheering for you.” He said.
“Could I…?” Adam tailed off then shook his head. “Never mind.”
“Spit it out, mate.”
“If this is going to be hard…could you help me get started? Give me a taster? Get me in shape?”
Powell paused. “I’ll have to discuss it with Legsy, he’s the one who specialized in training and instruction.” he said. “And he won’t like it.”
“Why not?”
“Well because he likes you, you daft bugger!” Powell said. “And while he’ll be happy to get you up to standard for Basic, if he’s going to give you even a fookin’ taster of Pararescue indoctrination, which is what I think you’re asking for…” Adam nodded “…Then he’ll have to go hard on you, right hard.”
“I guessed as much.” Adam said, patiently. He was beginning to grow tired of Powell driving the point home.
Powell noticed, and sighed. “I’ll…talk to Legs. Meet us in the gym tomorrow at 10:30, after a good breakfast. You’ll need it.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Might be a bit premature there, mate.” Powell joked. “But you’re welcome. I’ll…do what I can to help you along.”
“You will?”
“Aye. I’ll provide a reference, and believe me, that’ll count for a lot. But you’d better get on and have a good night’s sleep.”
“I will. Thank you, captain.”
Half of Powell’s mouth ticked upward. “Dismissed.” he said. “…trainee.”
Hayley Tisdale
The advantage to Cimbrean’s small, compact houses was that answering the door never took long, even if it was just yelling “I’ll be out in a minute!”
Hayley used that time to fill the kettle and started it boiling, take quick stock of the house to make sure it was tidy, and hide a certain little white box before she opened it.
Not for the first time, she reflected that with her heart-shaped face and curly dark hair, Ava was the very picture of the painfully pretty girl next door in jeans and flannel. Today, though, she was also painfully nervous about something, to judge from the way she’d been pacing little awkward circles outside, rubbing her fingers together.
“Ava? What’s wrong, honey?”
“Umm…” Ava gave her a nervy little smile. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just I could…I could just use some advice.”
“From me?” That was astonishing. Hayley wasn’t sure she was qualified to advise anybody on anything these days.
“Please?”
Hayley stepped aside “Come on in.” she offered.
Ava did so, and perched herself restlessly onto the edge of the couch.
“Cup of tea, sweetie? Or, I’ve got Ovaltine…”
Ava smiled, a little weakly. “Ovaltine would be nice.” she agreed.
Hayley let her relax as she bustled about, taking a little longer making the drinks than was strictly necessary. By the time she was done, Ava had sat back a little and released some tension in a big sigh.
“So…what’s up?” Hayley asked, though she had a sneaking suspicion.
“I, um…” Ava puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. “Adam and me, we’ve never…I mean…”
Okay, so Hayley’s suspicion had been wrong, but now she understood what this was really about. “You’ve not? Oh, honey…I kind of thought with you living together…”
Ava looked down at her hands, which were a frantic little knot of fingers. “Different beds.” she said, with a little laugh. “Are you…okay with me coming to you?”
“Well who else are you going to ask? Adam’s dad?” Hayley laughed, and Ava giggled. “No, honey, it’s…I’m actually kind of flattered. What do you need to know?”
“I guess…whether I should, really.” Ava said, relaxing. “I mean, Mom and Dad always said I should wait for marriage, and…”
“So did mine. I didn’t listen.”
“Yeah, but…”
“No, honey, listen to me a second.” Hayley shuffled forward on the couch and set her tea down. “I know you miss your parents so much it hurts. I can’t go two hours without remembering Sara and…” she closed her eyes and rallied. “But…Let me tell you what I wish I’d told her, okay? All your parents would want is for you to be happy, and to be safe. That’s all.”
“It is?”
Hayley nodded. “They told you to wait because they didn’t want you rushing in and getting hurt.” she said. “There’s nothing magical about your wedding day that’ll suddenly make it the right choice if it wasn’t before, and if it’s the right choice now, then…why wait?”
Ava was nodding along, but she frowned. “How…do I know when it’s right?” she asked.
“Well, you…” Hayley paused to think about it. “Okay, now here’s something I wish my parents had told me, okay?”
“Okay…?”
“Sex is…nice.” She paused, and corrected herself. “No, it’s great, even. But everyone seems to get this idea that it’s this precious, special thing and they say all kinds of stupid stuff about it. Judging you for having too little, too much, being a virgin, not being a virgin…”
“So…I shouldn’t care?” Ava asked.
“Exactly! Just be smart about it. Have as much or as little as you want, and don’t let anybody tell you when or with who or anything like that. That’s all your choice and nobody else’s. Just be smart about it.”
“Smart?”
“Well I mean, you know about…the pill, and condoms and everything, right?”
“Oh, that!” Ava looked relieved. “Yes I…I know that stuff.”
“Good. So be smart about using them, because…trust me on this, you really don’t want to be a mum yet.”
“No.” Ava agreed.
“Okay. So the question isn’t ‘how do you know when it’s the right time’, okay? The question is just…’Do you want to’?”
There was a long pause, during which Ava drank about a third of her Ovaltine. “Adam’s…going away.” she said, eventually and quietly.
Hayley shuffled around the corner and put an arm round Ava, rubbing her back. “He is?”
Ava nodded. “He turns seventeen a few days before Christmas, and he’s…joining the military.”
“Oh, honey…”
“No, no. I’m happy: I’m going to be doing something too. We both want to achieve something and this is the way he’s doing it.” She sounded like she meant it. “But…he’s going to be gone for so long, and…”
“You feel like you should give him a proper send-off?”
Ava nodded.
“That’s…for me, that wouldn’t be the right reason, sweetie.”
Ava wrapped both hands around her Ovaltine and sipped it. “In that case…what would be the right reason?” She asked.
“There’s only one right reason, honey: because you both want to. The list starts and ends there.”
They sat in silence for a bit until Ava had finished her drink.
“I’m leaving too.” Hayley revealed.
”…You are?!” Ava looked up, and Hayley internally winced at the desperation she saw in the younger girl’s eyes. “Hayley, why?”
“Don’t worry, it’s not because of Sara or anything. I’ll be coming back.” she promised. “I’m just going away for a few months.”
“Why?”
“I’m…Mark and I are having another baby.” She dug the pregnancy test box out from where she’d hidden it under a throw pillow. “We’re worried about the low gravity affecting the baby’s development, so I’m going back to Earth for a year…You’re the first person I’ve told besides him.”
“Oh, wow…”
“I think I conceived a day or two before we lost Sara…I know Mark and I haven’t…we’ve not been together since then.”
“You’ve not?”
Hayley nodded. “I’m not ready.” she said. “I’m so scared I’ll treat the new child like a replacement for Sara. But…here we are. So, I’m going back to work with the Earth end of the Reclamation Project, and Mark’s staying here.”
It was Ava’s turn to put a hand on Hayley’s arm. “Are you two..?”
“We’re…” Hayley squeezed back some impending tears with a forced smile. “We’re fine. Really. He gets angry sometimes, I’ve said some things that…We scare Jack sometimes. But we always cuddle and talk it out afterwards. In a way, I’m glad the baby’s come along. It’ll give us both something to work on for the future. Maybe that and a little distance will help.”
She wiped her eyes. “Come on, you came here for advice. Is…did I help?”
Ava nodded. “You helped a lot.” she promised. “I just have one question left, really.”
“Sure.”
“How will I know if Adam wants to?”
Hayley giggled. “Honey, with boys? It’s so easy to tell.”
“Be serious.” Ava protested.
“I was!” Hayley assured her. “But the simplest way is to just ask him. Failing that, if you want to be sure…well, if you make it obvious that you want him, then you’ll know soon enough either way.”
“So…how do I make it obvious?”
Hayley laughed. “Go into his room wearing some perfume and one of his T-shirts and nothing else, kiss him, then grab his wrist and put his hand on your butt.” she said. “He’d have to be dead not to get that message.”
“But what if–?”
Hayley interrupted her, patiently. “Ava. Sweetie. Everything after that point is for you and him, okay? There’s no script. Just talk to one another. Tell him how you feel, tell him what you want to do, tell him what you want him to do, ask him what he wants…That’s the most important thing, okay? Communication.”
“That sounds…awkward.” Ava was blushing.
“It will be. Forget what it’s like in movies, sex is always at least a little bit awkward. Your first time most of all. Just…live with that and try to have fun.”
”…Thanks, Hayley.”
“No; thank you. It’s good to…” she’d been about to say something about falling back into that mother role, but decided against it. “…to be able to give advice.” she finished.
Ava smiled and gave her a little hug. She left the house looking much more relaxed than she had entered it.
For her part, Hayley was surprised to find there was a little warm coal of happiness deep inside her again. As soon as Ava was out of the way, she sat down and wept, happily.
Owen Powell
“So…what am I going to be doing?” Adam was asking, as Powell entered the gym. Legsy hadn’t, as predicted, been happy about giving Adam a ‘taster’, but the young man was persuasive and knew his own mind.
The sergeant just picked up the rucksack that had been leaning against the wall behind him, hoisting it easily in one hand. “You’re going to run around the gym wearing this.” he said.
“Okay…” Adam turned around. “How heavy is—oof!”
“Do up that one around your waist…and that one across your chest. Pull ‘em tight…no, tighter than that, come on! There you are.” Legsy instructed, until the pack was strapped tight to Adam’s body. He gave it an experimental shake, yanking the teenager around. “Good?”
Adam nodded, though his expression had an edge of trepidation to it now. “Good.”
”…Well, what are you waiting for then?” Legsy demanded. Adam made an ‘oh, right’ face and set off at a jog.
“Is that what you call running?” Legsy shouted after him. “Come on, you’re here to train, boyo!”
Adam nodded and gained some speed.
“Your crippled old man runs faster than that, come on!” Legsy spurred him. Powell ambled across the gym as the kid found his third gear and started to actually run round the gym.
“That bag won’t get lighter if you slow down, pal!” Legsy called, then noticed his commanding officer and stood to attention. “Captain.”
“Not a bad start.” Powell observed, waving at him to stand easy. Adam was in athletic shape at least. He wasn’t a fast runner, and probably never would be, but after a little encouragement he was doing a pace that should at least spare him the indignity of being the slowest trainee when he got to basic.
“Don’t let him hear you say that, sir.” Legsy admonished him, then raised his voice again. “You’ll have to bloody SHAVE by the time you’re done at this rate, come on!”
“How heavy is that bag, anyway?”
“Fifteen kilos.” Legsy said.
“You’re starting the kid out on tab weight?”
“If he’s going for PJ, sir…faster boyo, come on!…then fuck aye I’m starting him there.” Legsy told him. “Besides, he’s stronger than he looks.”
Powell watched Adam piston along, already drenched in sweat and red as a forge. “You know training better than me.” he conceded.
He lurked against the wall and watched as Legsy cajoled, spurred and berated Adam into keeping up the pace, verbally goading the boy to keep putting one foot in front of the other, clicking the little counter in his hand every time Adam made it back past the start line.
It wasn’t long before the exertion began to really catch up, though. Adam’s steps became wobbly, his rhythm faltered. He was practically on the edge of falling over when he passed the start line again and Legsy finally blew his whistle.
They let him rest and had a quick conversation.
“Well?” Powell asked.
“Look at this.” Legsy showed him the counter.
Powell arched an eyebrow at the number on it. “Really?”
“Stronger than he looks, like I said. And he’s got more in him, too. Reckon he could stand up and do maybe even half as many again.”
“You’re sure?”
“Fuck aye.” Legsy agreed. “Especially if we can find his superman button.”
“His…hmm.” Powell rubbed his chin. “Mind if I–?”
“Be my guest.”
They knocked fists together, and Powell took his time ambling over to where Adam was still lying spread-eagled on the heavy pack.
“Enjoying your nap?” he asked.
Adam’s breathing was much improved even by the time Powell reached him, though the lad was clearly in a lot of discomfort as he tried to raise his head. “How did I do?” he asked.
“Do? You’re not done yet, mate.”
”…you’re kidding?!”
“Nope.”
“But…how…? Everything hurts!”
“Is that right? Fine, that’s nowt to be worried about.” Powell reassured him. “You can lie there a bit longer, but while you’re at it, I want you to imagine the future.”
“Okay…?”
“Imagine…Adam Arés, seventy years from now, dying peacefully in hospital, surrounded by his beautiful wife and beautiful kids and beautiful grandkids. Idyllic, right? A warm hand in his, and his family all about him, he closes his eyes and slips away…and there they are.”
Adam just gaped at him, confused.
“The ghosts.” Powell clarified. “The ghosts of all the people he could have saved but didn’t, because ‘everything hurt’ seventy years earlier. Every life lost because young Adam Arés didn’t have it in him to push on through the pain. Every soul he has to look in the eye and know that their lives mattered less to him than a little fookin’ comfort.”
Adam’s breathing slowed hugely as he sat there for a second with his mouth still open.
Then, without a word, he rolled over, hauled himself to his feet, and began to run.
Date Point: 4y11m1w AV
Folctha Colony, Cimbrean, the Far Reaches.
Adam Arés
“Happy Birthday!!”
The now familiar soreness and weakness in Adam’s legs were promptly forgotten when he found Ava and his dad waiting for him in the front room, and a wrapped present and some cards on the table. Not to mention the cake.
“Seventeen years.” Gabriel said, hauling himself upright and giving Adam a heartfelt hug. “It’s been a wild ride, amigo.”
“Así es la vida.” Adam returned the hug. “I thought you were back on Earth for the Lehmann case?”
“And miss this? I’d have beat them out the way with my cane if they’d tried to make me stay.” Gabriel scoffed.
“Gracias.” Adam meant it, too. He sat down next to Ava, who kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Presents? I’m not used to birthday presents.”
“You’re not?” Ava asked.
“Well, Christmas in three days, usually I just get a big Christmas present, you know?”
“Well, what do you get the man who’s leaving everything behind?” Gabriel asked.
”…good question.” Adam said, eyeing the gifts. Gabriel just grinned and lit the candles—two large numbers, rather than a field of seventeen small ones. “Blow them out and you’ll see.” he promised.
Adam dutifully did so, and Ava slid the gifts in front of him as Gabriel set about cutting the cake.
“That one’s from the school.” she said as Adam selected it. He fingered the odd, lumpy package for a second, then gave up on identification and ripped it open.
“Sandals and a…toiletries bag?” He opened it and peered inside, finding an assortment of hygiene products and some deodorant.
“They did some research and apparently you’ll need all of those in training.” Ava explained.
“Huh. Thoughtful of them.” Adam set them aside, pleased with the gift.
Ava gave him an embarrassed smile when he opened her gift. “You’re allowed so little and…y’know, the school had already got you everything, so, I, uh…kind of donated to charity in your name.” she confessed. “I’m sorry.”
“WaterAid?” Adam read the card.
“Yeah. They say the amount I gave should save a few lives…” she smiled nervously.
Adam kissed her. “Good gift.” he reassured her, and selected the card from Gabriel.
A photograph fell out of it when he opened it. When he picked it up, his mouth opened slightly. “How did you–?”
“Facebook.” Gabriel said. “Kind of a…reminder of more innocent days.”
Adam nodded, realising that it was the first time he’d seen his own mother’s face in months. Luiza Arés nee Ortega hadn’t been an easy woman to get along with. In fact some days she’d been the bane of his life. But the photograph really was a happy one, showing off an all-too-rare smile that made it very obvious why Gabriel had ever fallen in love with her, and it reminded Adam just for a second that he really did miss her.
He wasn’t sure how long he studied the print before he set it down. It was probably only seconds—it felt like weeks.
He reached over and hugged Gabriel. “Love you, dad.”
“Love you too, man.” Gabriel said.