Things Left Behind
There had been rumors that the Pleiades would be evacuated, that the engines meant to slow us almost one tenth c to orbital insertion at New Home had been irreparably compromised, but we thought we had generations before we would have to leave our only home behind to crowd onto the other arks.
The life support malfunctions were kept secret until they no longer be hidden, and by then there was no time to linger. All the fleet’s shuttles were needed to evacuate before the situation became critical, and even then we were fortunate, being among the first evacuees; some who followed were be hospitalized for accute hypoxia.
We left everything behind. Clothing and sundries could be replaced, but other things cannot: The compad, containing cherished family photographs, not to mention the genealogy tracing us back to Departure. The Progenitor’s personal effects, the books and the papers and the white leather ball, a relic of some now-forgotten sport but important enough to my grandfather’s grandfather to sacrifice several ounces of precious allotment.
And yet, they’re not gone. They float alongside to this day, in the Plieades’s darkened corpse, and after we land, they shall travel forever through the stars.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment