Authors: Patricia Rose
A shiny, metallic orb floated in from the hallway leading to the smaller bedroom. The three humans stopped and stared. Mike hesitated for a long, long moment before reaching out a finger to touch the orb. Kari heard a sharp
pop!
and a hiss of pain as Mike jerked his hand back, shaking it sharply. “Son-of-a-bitch!” he yelped, sticking two fingers in his mouth and glaring at the black orb as it simply vanished.
The three soldiers looked at each other, stunned. Col. Kasoniak glanced down at his watch. “0945 tomorrow morning,” he said grimly. “Mike, double time it to my office and tell Lieutenant Simmons I want a meeting of my general staff set for 1300 today. Tell her I’ll be back in the office as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” Mike replied, saluting crisply before jogging down the apartment stairs to the jeep he and Kari had driven up in.
Dick Kasoniak looked at his daughter for a moment, and then opened his arms wide. “Come here, baby girl,” he said softly. Kari moved quickly into his embrace, and he hugged her as tightly as the Old Bear he was renowned to be.
March 29.
Kasoniak
Kasoniak looked at his watch again. 1630. Another thirty minutes and he would send soldiers to collect all of the USRF DOD Form PI-279s. The newly created forms had been handed out to everyone on the post. They detailed a brief explanation of the situation and a preference check box with a section for comments. The decision, of course, was still Kasoniak’s, but this would be an all-volunteer mission. He wouldn’t compel an exodus.
At 1840, Kasoniak held the numbers in his hand. Simmons had tallied them neatly, of course, and she had efficiently summarized the data. She was a damned fine officer. He would miss her.
Lieutenant Simmons was one of thirty-two NFK soldiers or citizens who declined to make the trip to the new planetoid offered by their conquerors. Most of the thirty-two cited religious reasons or no reason at all in their comments section, but one comment stood out above all the others. “I will not live in a zoo,” the soldier wrote. “I will fight until I’m buried in the fucking garden they want, or until I blow my planet to hell from right under them. Either way, I’m staying.”
Dick Kasoniak sighed, looking at the other Form PI-279 that caught his attention. The form had neither “stay” nor “go” marked. In the comment section, it said, “I stay or leave with Cpl. Mike Sanderlin.” He was going to have to address that particular issue. He knew he couldn’t force Mike to go, but guilt, if nothing else, would damned sure compel Kari.
Kasoniak sighed, turning his eyes up to the ceiling. “It isn’t how you would have wanted things, Carolyn,” he murmured, “and it isn’t how I want them, either. But I can’t lose my baby girl. Not after we’ve come this far.”
The decision was made. The only thing left for the surviving humans to do now was to pack their belongings ... and once again, lose everything to the stupidity and fallacy of war.
Dick Kasoniak placed the file of forms into the filing cabinet and firmly closed the drawer.
April 1.
Kasoniak
Col. Richard Kasoniak stood at parade rest, his Class As starched and perfect, as always. He watched solemnly as groups of soldiers and civilian personnel entered the docking bays of one of the five sleek, black spacecraft encircling the United States Mint. He and Kari would be on the last of the five ships. His face was carefully expressionless as he watched his daughter sob against the boy...the man...she loved, and the old soldier's heart broke as he almost heard Carolyn's chastisement.
“Please, Mike,” Kari pleaded once more.
Mike shook his head gently, tears streaming unashamedly down his own face. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, holding her close to him. “I can't go, and you have to. I need you to take care of Jenni. You promised me.”
Anger filled Kari's eyes for a moment as she looked over Mike's shoulder to her father. She blamed him for that one, and rightly so. Kasoniak knew her anger would cool, in time. The important thing was she was getting on the ship.
Mike turned to go. Hershey obediently left Kari's side, trotting toward his boy.
“No, Hershey,” Mike reprimanded, knowing this time he meant it. “Stay.”
The dog ignored the command and walked briskly over to Mike, sitting at his feet.
Mike knelt down, grabbing Hershey by the ruff and hugging him tightly. “You stay, boy. You're a good dog, you stay, Hershey,” he instructed, his voice breaking. He pushed Hershey toward Kari, who disregarded the dog. Kasoniak bent, holding Hershey by his collar, as Mike walked toward the jeep.
Hershey struggled in confusion, whining as Mike got into the vehicle without him. As the jeep drove away, Hershey's frantic barking could be heard clear across the compound.
Planetoid L732 ... working designation, Genesis ... was as lovely and pristine as Scientist-Farmer promised it would be. Col. Dick Kasoniak stood with an arm around his daughter, looking down at a valley that made his heart ache with the serenity it portended. A small community of houses sat clustered around the shore of an enormous lake and he swore he could see docks and fishing boats even from this distance. The grass was Kentucky bluegrass green, the wildflowers were stunningly beautiful and aromatic, and the clouds above were billowy white perfection.
Kari leaned against him and sighed, a sound of both joy and terrible pain.
“I’m sorry he couldn’t see this, sweetheart,” Kasoniak murmured sympathetically. “Maybe it would have changed his mind.”
Kari shrugged noncommittally and reached down to pat Butterball on the head. The cream-colored dog was almost half-grown now, and she showed signs of being an avid hunting companion.
They had spent the four months of the journey in a state of sedated sleep ... for their own “protection.” Honestly, none of them knew if they would wake up at all, much less to everything they were promised ... and more.
The Invincible
had been landing shuttles for more than six hours, and Kasoniak and Kari finally received their destination fobs as well as the small, gravitationally controlled porter carts for their possessions. Kari nodded to the cart filled with the sundry personal items she’d been allowed to bring and smiled at her father.
“Mike would be all over this thing,” she said with a laugh. “He would be tearing it apart to see how it - hey! There’s Paul and Soldier Girl! And Jennifer!”
The two girls ran toward each other, hugging eagerly and chatting happily while Col. Kasoniak and the young ROTC private glanced at each other with respectively tolerant and awestruck smiles. Butterball and Soldier Girl barked and danced around in excitement, and then a deeper, louder bark filled the air.
Hershey came loping forward, his tongue lolling out as he raced toward the humans he loved and the silly little yippyfaced dog. He sniffed butts with Soldier Girl, not remembering her, and then jumped up on Kari and licked her face. He knew it was definitely not a good dog thing to do, but he was just so happy to see her! Kari hugged him, happy tears running down her face. She looked behind him and froze.
Mike walked toward them, his pace unhurried, his eyes taking everything in with wonder. Kari cried out and ran up to Mike with a sob, throwing herself into his arms and kissing him repeatedly. “You came!” she wept, then swatted at him when he laughed at her. “You changed your mind!”
Mike grinned. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he said wryly. “I think I just got curious and I had to see the place, you know? I couldn’t let it go.”
Kari hugged him again, and Col. Kasoniak came up and clapped him on the shoulder while Jenn tackled him at waist level. Paul gave him a shy smile, and Hershey, Butterball, and Soldier Girl ran and jumped around, barking joyously to add to the pandemonium.
In the distance, on a hillside overlooking the hundreds and hundreds of people disembarking from the shuttles, a pink, blue, and green aura glowed brightly in the sunshine.
“You brought him,” Researcher-Xenohistorian accused.
“Yes,” Scientist-Farmer agreed.
“Even though he didn’t want to come?”
“Yes.”
“You adjusted his thought patterns?”
“Slightly, yes.”
“Because you couldn’t leave him.” It wasn’t a question, and when Scientist-Farmer didn’t comment, Researcher-Xenohistorian sighed. “You know that was
so
unethical,” she said, her voice disapproving.
Scientist-Farmer nodded. “Yes, but you are exactly right. I couldn’t leave him. Not after we’d come so far.”
Determinative characteristics of Classification Eight sapience.
Each characteristic must be observed before Classification Eight sapience is determined.