The Long Dark

According to the Scientists, the Heliopause, where the outward flowing solar wind stalls against the inward streaming interstellar medium, is officially the edge of the system. Past that, you're in interstellar space. In a single star system like Sol, that boundary is at least easily defined if not always easy to identify. With 34 Tauri, it was a much different story. The interaction of five stars and half a dozen or so protostars made the heliopause less of a sphere and more of an amorphous blob. When you crossed it depended more on what vector you were taking out of the system than your distance from Bai Hu.

For us, crossing the Heliopause was a mission specific milestone. There were only a handful of us awake when the senior scientist declared we'd crossed the border and their observations would be done and transmitted in a matter of two more days. The rest of us would sleep shortly thereafter.

The order of those last entries into the hibernation tanks had been a point of discussion off and on for over a year. You'd think that it would have been settled long before it was actually going to happen, but that was the nature of such decisions. In the end, the last to sleep would be 'Brina, Captain Gill, Lieutenant Conner, Belize, then me. The Captain had wanted me to sleep before he did. When I pointed out the mission profile required me to oversee his entry into the tank, he insisted Conner remain awake to observe as well. I don't think he was actually being paranoid, as our working relationship was civil if not exactly friendly, but he was obviously uncomfortable.

Gill, understandably, wanted to make sure there were medical personnel on tap to assure he, the Captain, was put safely into cold sleep. He'd actually made noises about wanting the Flight Surgeon to put him to sleep himself, instead of Bel, though they'd been neither loud nor persistent. I'd actually have been happy with Bel watching the tank when I went into hibernation. But she'd already be asleep, trusting me to make sure things went smoothly before I trusted myself, in turn, to Nora.

I had to admit, I had mixed feeling with the announcement we'd crossed the Heliopause. Cold sleep wasn't the greatest thing on my mind. I'd gone through several dry runs already as part of training, as had we all. It wasn't exactly pleasant but it held no terror for me. I would go into the tank, deal with a few minutes of discomfort, then awaken to deal with a few minutes of disorientation. Possibly longer, according to some of the studies. I would be the last to sleep and the first to wake up. Trusting Nora with my life even more than anyone else on the crew.

That wasn't the issue.

We'd been getting further reports of Machine attacks for several weeks. The Alliance military was holding its own without much difficulty so far, but who knew how deeply dug in some of those Mother bots were? On some level it felt like we were running away from that particular problem, though there were plenty of people back home with the experience, and cunning, needed to end the threat. The Machines might have been part of what I was feeling, but they weren't the entirety of it.

There were things I was leaving behind that would be lost to time long before I returned. Optimistically, it was an 75 year mission. Minimum. The more conservative estimates had us in Sol system for at least a decade before returning to 34 Tauri. If we returned to 34 Tauri. If we ever went back, chances were good that no one we'd ever known would still be alive. The 'Verse would change while we stayed the same for much of the intervening decades.

I wasn't usually sentimental. But the notice that we'd passed the Heliopause and were about to enter the cold sleep stage of the mission brought it home that there were people I knew I would never see again. I'd said my good byes. We all had. But until that moment, it had been an abstract concept. Forever.

Lily and Krenshar might still be alive when we got home. Neither of them were organic. They didn't age the way we did. Same with Raids. And Blue, who wasn't even physical in the strictest sense. But the men and women we'd left behind? For their enkelkind, we would just be a footnote in a history book. Our memory lost to the Black.

Or maybe not.

* * *

"Not used to seeing the melancholy show, Sea. You ready for this?"

Bel's question wasn't unexpected. In the two days since I'd given Sabrina a loving kiss good night, and watched the Hibernation chamber cycle into operation, I'd shown the Zen calm I'd been long known for. It was the same when Gill, and then Conner, had gone into the tanks, leaving Belize and I the only two living beings awake in the vast Black between home and Sol.

"I'm ready, Sis. More letting the situation set in than feeling melancholy. You trust me to push the right buttons?"

She laughed then set down her tea. "Same thing isn't it? And if I didn't, do you think I'd be here?" I had to smile. She was right. She'd trusted me enough to come along on this mission, to leave everything and everyone she'd known behind to burn a whole through the Black into the unknown.

We all had. All four hundred thirty three people aboard Children of Earth had made that decision, to trust their lives to this ship and each other to be part of something bigger than any of us. There was huge cultural and scientific significance to the mission, yes, but it was also a great adventure. Probably the greatest in centuries.

But none of that changed what I was feeling. It was once said that the Reavers were just Men who'd stood at the edge of the Black for too long and lost their Humanity to it. It wasn't true, but the mythology had taken hold long before the Reavers had even appeared. Of the billions of people who called the 34 Tauri system home, the vast majority had never been off their birth world. It didn't matter that millions of people were in space at any given time, shuttling between colonies spread between five stars. The distance between those worlds was vast. The distance between stars in the 34 Tauri system vaster still. And the distance between star systems? It was more than a Human mind could absorb. According to our navigator, the closest we'd get to another star en route would be Hippocaros 31635. And even that was almost half a parsec from our course.

Numbers too big to process.

We both dragged out that last day longer than needed. I think Bel was more concerned for my well being during the time I'd be alone than anything else. It wouldn't even be a long time alone. A day, maybe two, depending on whether I wanted to enjoy the absolute solitude or not.

Sending Bel off to sleep though, was in some ways even more difficult than it had been with 'Brina. At least from a purely technical standpoint. While I knew these systems as well as anyone who wasn't an actual doctor, and I'd assisted with dozens of hibernations, this one was entirely in my hands. If Bel didn't wake up, it would be me that'd killed her. Wasn't a matter of consequence, so much as being personal.

When the hibernation chamber cycled Belize to sleep, I was as alone as any person could be. Children of Earth was still accelerating at a steady eighty meters per second per second. Bai Hu, and the rest of the stars that made up 34 Tauri were just dim points of light in our wake. A little brighter than the background stars, and a bit red shifted, you could still see them with the naked eye. But soon, no eyes would remain awake in the Black to look back.

There were still some duties I had to take care of before I went into cold sleep myself. Sabrina had already worked her magic on the Bussard Ramscoop, a vast electromagnetic construct that would, in theory anyway, scoop up the tenuous interstellar medium and funnel it into our fuel tanks. It worked. After a fashion. The ramscoop wasn't effective enough to recover all of our fuel, at least given the performance so far, but it would make life a good deal easier for the trip home.

It was something else Nora would have to take care of. Along with the drives and the power piles and the hibernation tanks. Which was the next thing I needed to check before I could go to sleep. We'd all checked and triple checked the tanks in the days leading up to this. But I needed to make the last check myself. I trusted Nora. I had to. But there was something oddly comforting in personally checking the integrity and status of each of the chambers. Something personal in spending a few moments lingering over each sleeping crew mate, and more than a few moments over the few here with me who mattered deeply to me.

Deep in the Black, absolutely alone, I had a few last dispatches to get off to home before going to sleep myself.

Most of the final communications was simple logistical housekeeping, final status and condition reports, a bit of Science, and my official log indicating the completion of this stage of the mission. I wouldn't be awake then the acknowledgement came back. Interplanetary postal mail was faster than our communications at this point. We were that far from home. But there were still a few personal messages I needed to get back.

General,

I'm sending this message to you and Jin in the hope that you never need to use the information enclosed. I know Jin was just a kid when you helped me assemble the crowbars, General, but I'm fairly certain he'll remember a twelve ton osmium spear with a pulse drive on the end. We built six of the things and we only used the one to crack the second Mother Bot on Hale's Moon.

Left a right fine crater, it did.

In any case, I had to downcheck on of them about three years ago, but the remaining four are still on station. I'm sending along partial control keys to take control of the crowbars. They're the kind of weapon the Alliance wants to pretend can't be made, because people would panic if they know how easy it was to construct a city killer with a surplus pulse drive and a big hunk of metal.

With the Machines on the move again, I figured you could use the crowbars if it came down to it. Between the key components I'm sending here and a few of the records I left behind with Genni, you and Jin should be able to piece together where I parked the crowbars and the command codes you'll need to get them running. Puzzles may not be your thing, but you know how I am about securing assets and these are ones I don't want getting into the wrong hands.

If the 'Verse is kind, you'll never have to use them. If it's not, I can't think of anyone better than the two of you to use them right.

I'd steal Duncan's old line and say Stay Lucky, but this isn't about luck. It's about being smart.

Make me proud.

-S

I embedded the partial keys in the message and wrapped it in Jin and General's private keys. They should be able to figure out the rest of it from what I'd left behind. Originally, I'd planned to send this to Genni herself, so she could hold the crowbars in reserve in case they were ever needed: like the Epic Weapon left in hiding in an old Fantasy story. Only the crowbars weren't so epic, and this was no fantasy.

The directional array would put the signal on target when it arrived, crawling across the Black at light speed. It was only a matter of time.

With my final duties taken care of I took one last walk through Children of Earth and headed to my hibernation chamber, checking on sleeping friends and turning off the lights on my way. Part of me felt desperately alone: the feeling Belize had seen as melancholy. But part of me was absolutely at peace. Perfect solitude. I was, if just for a moment, alone with the Universe.

And then it was time. Settling into the hibernation tank, fastening the monitors in place, the pinpricks of the IV lines and internal probes seating themselves. The lid coming down over the coffin-like chamber, Nora's smooth voice going through the checklist with me, double checking everything according the the procedure we'd been over a dozen times before. The lights dimming, then the world itself starting to fade as the darkness started to take hold.

No fear. Just the realization that I was going to be asleep for a long time, and when I woke up the universe would have changed.

"We're all yours Nora. See you in Sol."

"Understood. Ship's systems are nominal. Hibernation systems are nominal. Sleep well, Little Dragon."

"Little Dragon? Wait. What?"

And then the darkness closed in, and Nora was gone.