Akureyri Gateway

Chris Berkness

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Epilogue

Prologue

July 21st, 2017

A harsh buzzing noise rouses William Frieden from a sound sleep. He rolls over, glancing at the time on his nightstand clock as he reaches for his phone. “Hello?” he grunts when he answers. “It’s 4:00 a.m. This had better be good.”

“How soon can you get to headquarters?” an unfamiliar voice demands.

“Who is this?”

“I’m calling on behalf of the Department of Defense. There’s a situation.”

William sits bolt upright in bed. “Are we entering an emergency protocol?” Without waiting for a response, he fumbles around for the pants he dropped on the floor last night. William is the director of the Centers for Disease Control, based in Atlanta, Georgia. If he’s receiving a middle-of-the-night summons… the news isn’t good. He tugs on his button-down and blazer and runs his fingers through his hair. “Can you give me any details over the phone?”

“Is this a secure line?”

“It is.” William moves into his living room, collecting his briefcase, laptop, and keys. He sits on the couch to lace up his shoes.

There’s a long pause, as if the person on the other end of the line is waiting to find out how much he’s allowed to say. Finally, he begins, “Two weeks ago, a massive iceberg broke off from Antarctica’s fourth largest ice shelf, Larsen C.”

William nods, although the person on the phone obviously can’t see him. “I remember reading about that in the paper.”

“What you didn’t read… what wasn’t made public… was that one week ago, NASA’s Aqua satellite identified an object buried deep in the crack. That object has been taken to the Amundsen-Scott South Pole research station for analysis.”

“And you’re involving the CDC because…?”

“There were sixteen DoD employees that directly handled the object… during the transportation process. All sixteen individuals… now have flu like symptoms.”

William nods grimly. He grabs a soda from his fridge and races out the door. “I’m on my way.”

Chapter 1

July 25th, 2017

Erik flips through his notecards as he listens to the current speaker. He looks over the back of his chair at the audience. The conference room is crammed with circular tables, and the attendees lean back in embroidered navy-blue seats. Heads are bent, faces lit by phone screens, checking emails or texting colleagues. He looks to his assistant, Dzung, beside him.

“How many people are registered for this conference?”

Dzung takes off her glasses and types a few words into her laptop. “There are… two hundred and eighty-five people registered, but only two hundred and fifty-three are in attendance today.”

Erik nods and looks down at his notecards again. He wipes away the sweat pooling on his upper lip.

Dzung smiles at Erik. “Relax… You’ve presented in front of larger crowds than this.”

Erik shakes his head. “Maybe, but these”—he tosses a thumb over his shoulder—“are some of the most accomplished neuroscientists in the world.”

She puts her hand on his forearm and says, “So are you. You’ll be great. You know this material better than anyone.”

He forces a smile and squints past the current speaker at the large wall clock behind the podium. It reads 3:10 p.m.

“She needs to wrap it up,” he says. “I was supposed to start my presentation at three.”

Dzung snorts. “It’s only ten minutes, Erik.”

He brushes his sandy-blond hair off his forehead. “I’m sure people have flights to catch, and I have that four p.m. meeting with 132.”

Dzung looks up from her laptop. “That’s true. That reminds me, I’ll have to leave as soon as you’re done.”

Erik looks at his watch. “Okay.”

Dzung stares at Erik and smiles. “I love your suit. Did Kristin pick it out?” She is doing her best to distract Erik, even if it is for just a few moments.

“Yes, she insisted that I wear my navy-blue suit. Something to do with the color of my eyes,” he says with a shrug.

Dzung chuckles. “You do have blue eyes.”

“Whatever.”

The sound of applause makes Erik’s eyes fly to the stage, where Professor Ugerbale passes the retreating speaker and clutches the podium. Heart racing, Erik wipes his sweaty palms on his slacks and tries to find comfort in his notecards.

Professor Ugerbale adjusts the microphone to accommodate his short frame. “Thank you, Professor Singh, for that insightful presentation. Before I introduce our last speaker, I have a few housekeeping items I need to go over.”

Erik leans in and whispers in Dzung’s ear, “Seriously? We’re already fifteen minutes behind schedule.”

Dzung rolls her eyes. “Stop.”

Professor Ugerbale looks down at his notes. “Following our last speaker, there will be a reception in the McNamara Alumni Center on the East Bank of our campus. If you need directions, please see one of our hosts out in front. There’ll be snacks and drinks available… but sorry, no alcohol.” He chuckles, but no one else in the audience is laughing. “For those of you with flights to catch, shuttles will be running until seven p.m. They’ll be located out in front of this conference center… the Hubert H. Humphrey Conference Center.

“I would also like to thank the staff here at the University of Minnesota for all their hard work in putting together this two-day neuroscience conference.” Everyone claps.

Professor Ugerbale looks over at Erik and smiles. “I would now like to introduce our final speaker.”

Erik’s stomach threatens to reacquaint him with the burrito he scarfed down for lunch.

“Erik Jakobson is an associate professor here at the University of Minnesota. He is the senior manager of the Human Connectome Project and will be giving us an update on the progress the university is making with the HCP.”

Professor Ugerbale turns in Erik’s direction and starts to clap along with the crowd. As Erik stands up, his muscular six-foot-four frame unfurls. With notecards and water bottle in tow, he walks up to the stage. He sets the bottle on the podium and wipes his palm on his jacket before shaking Professor Ugerbale’s extended hand.

Erik takes his place in front of the microphone, knees shaking, and surveys the crowd. A friendly face catches his eye. His brother-in-law, Stephan, holds up a hand in greeting from a back table. Erik smiles back and adjusts the microphone. He sucks in a calming breath and taps the notecards lightly on the podium, straightening them.

“Do you ever wonder what it is that makes you… you?” he asks, pausing to let the opening line sink in. “Why are some people susceptible to substance abuse while others are not? We have found that individuals with stronger neural pathway connections among certain brain regions scored higher in tests of memory and were more highly educated, while those with weaker connections were less educated and more prone to anger and violence. As you already know, the human brain is the most complex structure in the universe. It has over ninety billion neurons interconnected with one hundred trillion synapses that are responsible for the amazing diversity and talents among the billions of people on Earth.”

Erik rubs his forehead and takes a sip of water before continuing.

“The Human Connectome Project is an ambitious effort to map the neural pathways that underlie human brain function. It aims to provide an unparalleled compilation of neural data, that will give us an opportunity to achieve never-before-realized conclusions about the living human brain. By using diffusion spectrum imaging, which tracks the movement of water through nerve fibers, we can trace groups of neurons as they cross from one region of the brain to another. With our advances in imaging and data visualization, we can now study the human brain as an entire organ, and at a level of detail not previously imagined possible in a living person. This will allow us to map the neural pathways of the brain and explore how a person’s brain connectivity relates to his or her mental abilities, like memory, self-control, and decision-making. We will actually be able to study a person’s thoughts and feelings.”

Clicking to his next presentation slide, Erik begins to detail the parameters of the Human Connectome Project: how many scientists are working on it, how many subjects have been scanned thus far, and how many people he plans to study in order to draw viable conclusions. He outlines his proposed time frame for the project. He shares a few anonymous case studies, highlighting trends in the data that he hopes will continue as more subjects are studied. The longer he talks, the more comfortable he feels. This is his specialty and his passion. Despite his previous nerves, Erik is eager to share his thoughts with his colleagues.

He finishes his speech by telling the audience, “This research will help us gain a better understanding of certain neurological disorders, like Alzheimer’s, autism, Parkinson’s, epilepsy, and even schizophrenia, in turn yielding new and better ways to detect, treat, and ultimately prevent these brain disorders.”

Erik pauses again, letting the last line of his speech settle, and then finishes, “Thank you for attending our conference. I hope you’ve found it to be as illuminating as I have.” He heads for the short stage steps as light applause fills the room.

When he reaches his table, Dzung is gone, already headed for the laboratory on the East Bank of the campus. As Erik bends to retrieve his backpack, he feels a pat on his back. He looks up and sees Professor Ugerbale smiling at him. His partially bald scalp reflects the lights from the ceiling. “That was outstanding, Erik. Thanks for agreeing to present.”

Erik smiles and says, “I should be thanking you. This is great exposure.”

The professor just nods. “Are you going to the reception?”

Erik shakes his head and looks at his watch. “No. I’m meeting with 132 in fifteen.”

Professor Ugerbale’s eyebrows rise. “Really? You’ll have to let me know how that goes.”

“I will.”

As Professor Ugerbale walks away, Erik spies Stephan weaving through tables toward him. The two men tower above everyone in the room as they embrace, both of them well over six feet. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Stephan scratches his perfectly trimmed red beard, which would begin to curl just like his fiery hair if he let it get any longer. “What, and miss the opportunity to learn more about the HCP?”

“Yeah, you’re right, I can’t think of a better way to spend a Friday afternoon than at a neuroscience conference.”

Stephan snorts. “Are you going to the reception?”

“No, I have an appointment at four. I need to head over to the lab.”

“Can I give you a ride?” asks Stephan.

“Thanks, that would be great. The conference ran late so I don’t have time to walk across the bridge.”

Stephan gestures to the door. “Grab your bag. Let’s go.”

Stephan’s sedan isn’t much to look at, but it’s pristine inside, and Erik settles in for the five-minute trip over the Mississippi River to his laboratory on the East Bank campus. When Stephan lets him out in front of the building, he bends down to look through the passenger window. “Thanks for the ride. See you at the house for dinner.”

Erik cuts left on the main floor, taking a detour on the way to his own lab. Inside, his wife, Kristin, sits at her laptop, her blonde hair pulled back in a flat, black clip. Her hazel eyes light up as she raises her head and sees him.

“How did your speech go?” she asks as he wraps an arm around her. She lifts her chin to meet his kiss.

“Everyone clapped at the end, so I guess it went well,” he said with a shrug.

She smiles and says, “Maybe… they were clapping because they were happy it was finally over.”

His brows pull together. “Ouch!” He chuckles and squeezes her slender frame.

She kisses him softly. “I’m sure you were brilliant. Was my brother in the audience?”

Erik nods. “I didn’t expect to see him there.”

“He wanted to give you moral support, since I was stuck here.”

“He’s amazing. It’s so hard to believe that your brother… my best friend… is the one who introduced me to my soulmate.” Erik leans down for another kiss. “I will never forget that date: August second, 2004.”

Kristin looks up at him with a tear shining in her eye. “You know I feel the same way about you. I love you more than you could possibly know.”

Erik hugs her, checking his watch behind her back. “Oh, shit… I have to get going. My appointment with 132 is in two minutes.”

Erik starts to jog toward the exit, smiling when Kristin yells out, “Good luck!”

“Thanks! See you in an hour.”

* * *

Kristin is on Erik’s mind as he hurries down the halls and up a flight of stairs, his shoes squeaking on the glossy tile floor. He drifts away to that beautiful sunny day in Reykjavik, Iceland, when he and Kristin exchanged their vows, Stephan as best man at Erik’s side.

But the mountainous landscape of lush greens dotted with frothy white waterfalls once again gives way to sterile beige walls and blindingly white floors as Erik reaches his lab, where Dzung is typing away on her laptop. She looks up and says, “He’s waiting for you in your office, Erik.”

“Thanks, Dzung.”

“By the way, you were great today.”

Erik shoots her a grin. “Thanks.”

He opens the flimsy office door to find Timothy Claiborne, listed as volunteer 132 in his records, sitting in a straight-backed chair in front of the aluminum desk. Timothy’s dark hair shows no signs of gray, though he’s in his early thirties.

Erik extends his hand to shake, then takes his own seat behind his desk.

“How was your flight?”

Timothy shrugs. “Uneventful.”

“I’m glad. I know it’s a hassle to travel here. I really appreciate you taking the time to meet with me today.”

Timothy smiles back at Erik, putting some extra life into his dark brown eyes. “I’m willing to help in any way I can.”

“Great. Let’s get started.” He puts his hands on his desk and looks down at his notes. “You were diagnosed with multiple sclerosis when you were twenty-four, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You were taking Avonex to help with the symptoms, and this of course lowered your immune system, which led to your diagnosis of stage four non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you chose not to pursue chemotherapy.”

“There was no point.” For a moment, Timothy looks haunted. “I was simply too ill.”

Erik cocks his head and rubs his chiseled, clean-shaven chin. “And yet now you’re not only free of cancer, but you also don’t have any symptoms of MS.” He turns a page in his notepad. “Looking at an MRI taken two years ago, we see over fifty brain lesions. Today, you have none.” He looks up at Timothy. “How is this possible?”

Timothy sits up straight and says, “I wish I knew...” He holds his hands out, palms up. “I didn’t take any medication or have any procedures done. The diseases simply went away on its own.”

Erik takes a deep breath and exhales. Even with the evidence right in front of his eyes, he’s having trouble believing in such a miraculous recovery. “There is something else that’s strange,” he goes on. “Your blood type changed in the last year, but your charts don’t show a bone marrow transplant.”

Timothy shrugs. “I can’t explain that either.”

Erik rubs his forehead. “Did anything change in your life last year? Even something small could help us pinpoint what happened. Were you injured at any point? Did you change your diet?”

As Erik waits for Timothy to answer, he taps his fingers against his thigh in anticipation. But after several seconds of silence, he realizes he’s lost the man. Timothy is staring at the picture on Erik’s desk—a prized shot of him and Kristin in Iceland.

Timothy shakes his head and points at the picture. “Sorry… I know that building. It’s the Harpa, right?”

Erik’s eyes widen in surprise. “Yes… You’ve been to Reykjavik?”

“Yes. Once.” Timothy studies Erik for a moment before continuing. “When was that picture taken?”

Erik turns the picture for a better look and smiles. “Eight years ago. My wife and I were married in Reykjavik. This was from that wonderful trip.”

Timothy creases his forehead. “Are you from Iceland?”

“I was born in Reykjavik, but my family moved to the US when I was seven. My wife, Kristin, grew up in Iceland. We decided to hold the wedding in Reykjavik since her mom was too ill to fly. She was diagnosed with cancer a year earlier.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks…” Erik shifts his stoic look into a grin and says, “While we’re sharing personal details, I suppose I can tell you this now without interfering with patient confidentiality: you know my wife’s brother.”

“I do?”

Erik chuckles. “Yes. Stephan Johansson, your physician at Kaiser… He’s Kristin’s brother. My brother-in-law.”

“Oh my God. What a small world.”

“It is. Stephan thought you would be a good candidate for the HCP, so he referred you to us.” Erik leans back in his chair and interlocks his fingers behind his head. “So… why were you in Reykjavik?”

“There is something that…” Timothy bites his lip, and his leg begins to shake in a frantic rhythm. “…I haven’t told anyone since my return from Iceland.”

Erik eyebrows rise. “What is it?”

“I don’t want you to think that I’m crazy… but… I was researching the afterlife on the internet when I came across a posting by someone who claimed to know the existence of a portal in northern Iceland. A portal to the afterlife.” Timothy laughs, high and nervous, his leg still vibrating. “I thought to myself, why not go? I’m on death’s door anyways. So, I booked a flight to Reykjavik.”

Erik leans forward and rests his chin on his hand. “What city in northern Iceland?”

Timothy looks up at the ceiling, then back at Erik. “Akureyri.”

Erik’s eyes narrow. “Did you go through a portal?”

At that, Timothy snorts with laughter. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t. But…” His expression sobers again. “I did see something strange that I can’t explain.” He looks back over at the picture of Erik and Kristin and shakes his head. “I don’t think anyone can explain it. I didn’t want to say anything because I was worried that people would think I was crazy.”

“Trust me, I won’t think you’re crazy. What was it?”

Timothy stares, studying Erik, and then exhales heavily. “The boulders by the entrance to this cave… they were… levitating.”

Erik’s jaw drops. “Levitating? You’re certain?”

The other man nods decisively.

“You never told anyone about this?”

“No. Like I said, I was worried what people would think. I didn’t even tell anyone at the DoD.”

Confused, Erik eases back in his chair. “I’m sorry—did you say you talked with someone at the Department of Defense?”

“I thought you knew they’d reached out to me. Honestly, I thought they’d somehow gotten my medical history through the HCP.”

“No, our records are private.” Erik frowns, wondering if someone in his department isn’t adhering to protocol. “What did the DoD want to speak with you about?”

Timothy shrugs. “I’m not sure. I think it had something to do with my immune system.”

“They didn’t tell you why they contacted you?”

“No, they just ran a bunch of tests. They were trying to determine if my ability to cure myself from MS and cancer was somehow linked to an improved immune system. They were wondering how I would respond to certain viruses.”

“Viruses… That’s odd. When was this?”

Timothy rubs his eyes. “Five days ago. If you didn’t tell the government about my case, who did?”

Erik looks out the window, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know. None of this makes sense to me.” He turns his gaze back to Timothy’s charts. “One more question. How long after you returned from Iceland, before you started to show signs of improvement?”

“Immediately,” Timothy says without hesitation. “That trip healed me. I don’t know how it did, but I know it did.” He exhales shakily. “Wow. It feels good to say that out loud.”

“Unbelievable…” The word feels right, but Erik’s not even sure what he means by it. His brain is telling him to remain skeptical, but Timothy certainly believes what he’s saying. The results in Timothy’s charts can’t be denied. Something amazing happened… but what? “Is there anything else that you can think of that might be relevant… that took place last year?”

“No… Although my wife and I just found out we’re pregnant with our first.”

Erik smiles and says, “Congratulations, Timothy. That’s great news. Have you picked out names?”

“Yes. If it’s a girl, we’re going to name her Samantha, and if it’s a boy, Benjamin.”

“Those are great names.” Erik stands up. “Thanks again, Timothy. This has been very helpful.” He gestures to the door. “Let me walk you to your car.”

Erik throws his backpack over one shoulder and leads the way. As the two men pass Dzung’s desk, she calls out to Erik, “Have a great time on your vacation!”

“Thanks, Dzung, see you in two weeks.”

On the staircase, Timothy looks over at Erik and asks, “Where are you going?”

Erik looks perplexed. “I’m going home now.”

Timothy chuckles. “No… I meant on vacation. Your assistant mentioned a vacation.”

“Ah, yes.” Erik laughs at himself. “St. John.”

Timothy smiles as Erik holds the building’s front door open for him. “Nice. Have you been to the Virgin Islands before?”

“Yeah, once. That’s where Kristin and I went on our honeymoon.”

Timothy makes a beeline through the nearly empty parking lot to reach his car. “Maybe I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow,” he says over his shoulder as he pops open the door.

“Where are you going?”

Timothy snickers. “Not the Virgin Islands. I’m headed to Nashville.”

“What’s in Nashville? Family?”

“No… Well, I did grow up in Nashville, but my parents moved to California after they retired. I’m actually going there for work.”

“Oh.” Erik realizes that despite how well acquainted he is with Timothy’s brain, he doesn’t know the man himself that well at all. “What kind of work do you do?”

Timothy averts his eyes for a moment, glancing at the campus. “I write lyrics. I’m collaborating with a songwriter who’s based in Nashville.”

Erik’s face lights up with surprise. “Really? How did you get started writing lyrics?”

“When I was a senior in high school, I entered a poetry contest… and actually won.” Timothy grins at the memory. “My poem was published in the local newspaper. As it turned out, an up-and-coming artist read the poem and contacted me. She said my poem moved her… she wanted to use some of the passages in her song. She introduced me to several songwriters, and I’ve been working with them ever since.”

Erik’s eyes widen. “Who was the artist?”

“Miranda Lambert.”

“I’ve never heard of her,” Erik says, his tone apologetic.

“Not a country music fan?” Timothy jokes. At Erik’s shake of the head, he explains, “She’s an amazing country singer and songwriter. She’s won two Grammys.”

“Would I recognize any of your songs on the radio?”

Timothy gives him a good-natured smirk. “Doubtful… only one of them has ever broken the ‘Billboard Top 100.’ It was actually nominated for a Grammy in 2011. I attended the Grammys that year and met my idol, Elton John. He was also nominated that year.”

Erik’s jaw drops. “You had a song nominated for a Grammy… and you met the Elton John? You’re famous.”

Timothy snorts with laughter. “Hardly… I’m not famous and I’m certainly not rich, but I am doing something that I love.”

“Well… that is important. Not all of us are lucky enough to do what we love for a living.” Erik lifts a hand to wave farewell, and Timothy slides into the driver’s seat. But just as the door slams shut, another question pops into Erik’s mind. “Timothy!”

The other man rolls down his window. “Yes?”

“Did your song win?”

Timothy laughs again. “Nope… but hey, now that I’m healthy, there’s always next year.”

* * *

Erik opens the door to Kristin’s lab to find her alone once again. “Are you ready to head home?”

Bent over her laptop, fingers flying across the keys, she doesn’t look up as she says, “Give me a minute. I need to finish this email.”  

Erik pulls out his phone and starts to look at the latest news feeds. “We need to finish packing tonight. Is Stephan still planning to drive us to the airport tomorrow?”

She stops typing, but her eyes scan the screen, proofreading. At last, when she’s done, she looks up and says, “Sorry… Yes, he’s still planning to drive us to the airport.” She hits send and begins packing her computer bag.

Erik smiles. “Did you make a breakthrough today?”

She lets out a puff of air through pouting lips. “No… not today. But we’re getting close now that we know that genes don’t necessarily act as loners but instead are part of a network that are interacting in groups.”

“That’s exciting. Hopefully, it will result in a new cancer treatment.”

Kristin’s eyes glisten. “Hopefully… in time to save Mom.” When she got the news that her mother’s cancer had returned, after a long period of remission, Kristin reworked her dissertation research to include genetic predispositions toward certain types of cancer.

Erik pulls her close and kisses her small but plump lips. “Hopefully.”

Arms wrapped around each other’s waists, they head to Erik’s Ford Fusion Hybrid.

As Erik pulls out of the parking lot, beginning the twenty-minute trip home to Roseville, he says, “It’s nice to finally drive home together. It seems like we never carpool.”

She gives him a sideways glare. “Whose fault is that?”

Erik shoots a defensive look back. “I have to work out in the morning. You’re welcome to join me.”

“No, thank you.” Kristin looks out the passenger window. “How did your interview go with Timothy? I’m sorry, volunteer 132,” Kristin corrects herself, with a smile on her face.

“You can call him Timothy when it’s just the two of us. Stephan knew him before either of us did.” Erik flashes her a quick grin before turning back to the road. “You’re not going to believe this, but Timothy writes lyrics for famous performers. One of his songs was nominated for a Grammy… and at the ceremony that year, he met Elton John.”

“Really? What song was it, the one that was nominated?”

Erik slaps his hand to his forehead. “Shit… I forgot to ask.”

Kristin rolls her eyes. “Seriously? Who was the artist?”

“I’m not sure… I think it was Miranda…” Erik pauses for a moment, the last name tickling the tip of his tongue. “…Lambert.”

His wife slowly shakes her head, hand curled under her jaw. “Were you even listening?”

“Obviously I was listening.” He glares at her, then admits, “But my mind was wandering a little. Before we talked about his songwriting, Timothy told me something else that’s… strange. He said that he visited Iceland last year.”

Kristin looks over at Erik as he makes a left turn to get on the freeway. “That’s a coincidence, certainly, but it’s not that strange.”

“That’s not the strange part.” Erik chews at his lip before dropping the real bomb. “He said that he visited a cave in northern Iceland where he saw… boulders levitating.”

Kristin scoffs at that. “Really? So… he was nominated for a Grammy and he met Elton John. He also saw boulders levitating.” She looks over at Erik with a sly grin and says, “Do you see a pattern? He’s either”—she twirls her finger next to her temple—“or he’s on drugs. Actually, maybe that’s where his best song ideas come from.”

Erik shakes his head. “No… it’s not like that. I believe him. At least about the Grammy and meeting Elton John. But the boulders.” He makes the “wishy-washy” gesture with one hand. “That sounds unbelievable, right? But he went to Iceland incredibly ill, and he came home healthy. Something triggered his immune system. He had stage four Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma and over fifty brain lesions, and now… nothing. He didn’t undergo any procedures or take any new medications, so how is it possible that he no longer has MS or cancer?”

Kristin leans back and crosses her arms. “I don’t believe in levitating boulders, and I certainly don’t believe that they can somehow cure us from cancer.”

“I don’t disagree with you… but I think there’s something to investigate here. What… I don’t know.”

“Well…” Kristin gives him the same smile she might give a Labrador Retriever: patient, yet slightly patronizing. “Next time we’re in Iceland, we’ll have to check it out. What about his neuroimaging results? Is there anything there that could help explain what happened?”

Erik thinks back. “Not really. There is a strange connection between his brain and spleen that we haven’t seen with any of our other volunteers, but I’m not sure how that would explain his miraculous recovery.”

His wife tilts her head. “We all have a connection between our brain and spleen.”

“Not like Timothy’s. We haven’t seen anything like this before.” He turns into the long driveway that will take them home.

Kristin gives him a thoughtful look. “And to think… if it wasn’t for Stephan, you would never have met Timothy. What a coincidence.”

Erik nods. “Another strange coincidence.” But the word rings false in the air. Something inside Erik feels as though he and Timothy were meant to meet. Does he believe in destiny? He’s not sure. He believes in science. He believes in facts.

So how is he supposed to square away the indisputable fact that Timothy has been cured with the gut feeling that there’s more to this case than science can explain?

Chapter 2

The long driveway takes them past the first half-acre of the property—professionally manicured and dotted with majestic maples young and old. The rest of the two acres lies behind the two-story home, where the lake is the central attraction. Erik pulls up to the white wraparound porch and parks in front of the steps.

Erik and Kristin have barely stepped over the threshold of their restored Victorian and onto the red and gold embroidered rug that runs the length of the foyer before their daughter, Eria, comes flying down the curved, dark wood staircase. She grabs the baluster at the bottom of the stairs, which is hand-carved in the shape of a queen chess piece, and swings around it, vaulting herself into her mother’s legs for a hug.

“I can’t wait until tomorrow!” Eria squeals, breathless with excitement.

Erik picks up the six-year-old and kisses her on the cheek. “Me neither.”

“How was she?” Kristin asks the older woman who’s descending the stairs.

Terri, Eria’s nanny since birth, is sixty but doesn’t look it. She wears a crisp black dress and kitten heels, and styles her hair in a sleek pixie cut. “Eria’s always a perfect angel,” she says. “I even got to read a few chapters, while she was playing.” She holds up the book in her hands, a recent bestseller.

“Oh, one of my colleagues is reading that one,” Kristin says, when she sees the title. “Is it good?”

“Can’t put it down,” Terri says. She hands over the book to let Kristin read the teaser copy on the back. Even in heels, she has to crane her neck to look up at her employer; Kristin is almost six feet tall. When Kristin gives the book back, Terri crosses over to the table by the front door, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. “Have a great time on your vacation.” She grabs her purse and keys and then bends down in front of Eria, squeezing the girl’s chin affectionately between thumb and forefinger. “You have a great time hanging out on the beach. Make sure you take lots of pictures.” She gives Eria a hug, and then heads for her car.

As the front door slams shut, Kristin walks into the kitchen to start making dinner. Leaning against the center island, she puts her hair in a ponytail, then gets the salmon out of the refrigerator. Erik takes a seat on the cherry wood bar stools on the other side of the island and begins flipping through the day’s mail.

“Did you get Eria’s birthday present?” Kristin whispers, glancing into the den where Eria is cross-legged on the floor, playing with her toy horses.

Erik nods. “Yes, and it’s already wrapped. It fits in the suitcase so we can take it on our trip.”

Kristin turns on the stove and puts the marinated salmon into the frying pan. “I’m glad the rental house has a full kitchen. I would rather make her birthday cake than buy one at the store.”

There is a knock on the front door, but Stephan doesn’t wait for anyone to answer before he walks casually into the foyer, already taking off his sweater. He peeks his red head into the kitchen, looking across the vast space into the den, and says, “Where is that beautiful niece of mine?”

Eria beams as he crosses the kitchen toward her. She runs over to the cabinet where all the games are kept and picks out Super Mario World.

Stephan says, “Not Mario Bros again!”

Eria laughs. "I’m going to beat you again!”

He mumbles to himself, I’m sure you will.

Erik gets up from his stool and walks over to the couch. “I want to play.”

Stephan hands Erik a controller, and the three of them settle into the plush leather couch in front of the fifty-inch flat screen, Eria in the middle. But soon, as the game picks up intensity and Eria begins to taste victory, she leaps up from the couch, her body moving along with the contortions of the controller. Her tongue escapes her mouth and tries to lick her rosy cheek as she concentrates on her character.

Kristin looks up from the lettuce on the cutting board and glances into the living room. She chuckles softly at her daughter’s antics, especially when Eria jumps into the air in victory, whooping like a crazed sports fan. With the salmon sizzling in the pan, filling the air with the scent of oil and spices, and her favorite people enjoying each other’s company in the next room, Kristin feels incredibly content.

After Eria wins another round, Erik and Stephan battle it out in the third game. The two men nudge each other on the couch, trying to throw each other off their game. The competitiveness of boyhood has never really died away in either of them. Erik claims the victory, and as he does a celebratory hip jiggle to the game’s theme song, he asks, “Who said, ‘Winning isn’t everything, it is the only thing’?”

Stephan laughs and answers, “I think it was Vince Lombardi, but I prefer the quote from Paul Brown: ‘When you win, say nothing. When you lose, say less.’”

Kristin finishes setting the table and sets out the salmon, roasted vegetables, and side salad. She looks at the meal she prepared, smiling with satisfaction. “Dinner is ready. Wash your hands, Eria,” she yells out. As Erik turns off the TV, Eria flies to the bathroom. When everyone at last makes it to the table, hands damp, Stephan says a quick prayer before they start to eat.  

“Mmm,” Erik moans at the first bite of salmon. “This is delicious, Kristin.”

“Healthy, too,” she says, pleased at the compliment.

Stephan looks over at Kristin with a wry smile and says, “This will be the last healthy meal you’ll have for two weeks.”

“Not if I have my way,” she shoots back. “We’re staying at a rental house with a full kitchen, so I plan to make a few meals.”

“But we’ll have pizza at least one night, right?” Eria pleads. “Real pizza. With pepperoni. The kind that gets delivered in a box,” she adds, anticipating her mom’s comment that they can make their own pizza, likely covered in vegetables.

“I don’t know what our delivery options will be,” Kristin says, “but sure. We’ll see what we can do.”

Eria squeals. “Yes! Pizza!”

Over her head, Erik and Kristin meet eyes. I love you, he mouths to his wife.

Love you too, she mouths back.

* * *

Around nine, as the family relaxes in front of the living room fire, Eria throws back her head in a massive yawn, which Stephan takes as his cue. “I should get home,” he says, getting to his feet. “See you tomorrow. Six a.m. sharp.” He gives Eria a big hug and tells her to get some sleep for her big trip tomorrow. After Kristin moves in for a hug of her own, Erik walks Stephan to his car.

On the porch, Erik says, “Thanks again for driving us to the airport… and for watching the house while we’re gone.”

Stephan smiles. “I’m only five minutes away. Besides, you have no pets or plants to take care of, so it’s no problem.” He pauses. “Also, you have a better TV than I do.”

Erik snorts and grabs his brother-in-law in a one-armed hug. “See you tomorrow.” He watches Stephan’s car until the red taillights have disappeared. Then, he goes back inside.

In the living room, he picks up his daughter and tells her, “It’s time for bed. We have to wake up super early tomorrow.” He carries her up the long staircase and then sets her down. Eria runs into her room and picks out a book for Erik to read.

After putting Eria to bed, Erik goes up to the attic to get the suitcases for their trip. As he searches for the burgundy luggage set among the dust and sagging cardboard boxes, he notices an old box marked Mom’s Stuff in black Sharpie. Drawn by the lure of memories, he rummages through the box and finds his mother’s old diary. Flipping through the dated pages, he sees an entry from 1977. The penned words detail her feelings of depression and disappointment that they haven’t had any luck getting pregnant. And she wouldn’t until she was forty-seven. Erik shakes his head. The fact of his existence still amazes him.

He also sees a photo album and looks through the decorated pages. There are pictures of Erik from throughout his childhood. He sees himself as a roly-poly toddler and as a lanky elementary schooler. He decides to take the photo album down to show Kristin. As he approaches the stairs, he spots the suitcases full of dust and grabs one of them. This will require a couple of trips, he thinks. He’ll put the photo album back the next time he comes up here.

Erik walks into the living room, where Kristin is in a gold-cushioned armchair, busy typing away on her laptop. She looks up and sees Erik with a photo album in one hand and a suitcase in the other. She shakes her head and says, “Seriously… we don’t have time to look through photo albums. We have to pack.”

“I know, but you have to look at these old pictures. I don’t think you’ve seen them before.”

She smiles and rolls her eyes. “Okay, but only for a few minutes. We still have a lot of work to do before we go to bed.”

Moving to the small antique couch, they put their heads together, looking at the perfectly labeled pictures from Erik’s childhood. “Wow,” Kristin says. “Your mom labeled all of the pictures in this album… that must have taken forever.”

Erik nods. “I remember her sitting at the kitchen table, decorating the photo album when I was a kid. She would write a note under each picture. I never understood why she did it, but now I do.” He thinks about his daughter, and how he wants to remember every precious moment of her life.

Kristin turns the page and immediately snorts with laughter. She points at the picture and says, “I know I haven’t seen this picture before. How old were you?”

“Twelve… I think.”

She gives him a sympathetic pout. “You poor thing. Your hair was so poufy—and that orange shirt!” She shakes her head. “Your pants… they don’t quite reach your shoes.” She turns her head to look at Erik. “Did you have any friends?”

Erik gently elbows Kristin. “Yes… I had friends.”

She laughs. “So… what are you holding in your hand?”

Erik rolls his eyes. “A science fair award.”

She chuckles. “And look at you now.”

The next time Kristin turns the page, she notices a picture of Erik with two other kids. She puts her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God! This picture… I thought you said you were an only child?”

Erik inspects the picture more closely. The three children stand side by side in their swimsuits on a dock by a lake in Minnesota. The caption reads, ‘Erik, Fresler, and Karena at our place, June 8th, 1995’.

“I was… am an only child,” he corrects himself. “Those were childhood friends of mine.”

“Friends?” Kristin turns her head and furrows her brow. “You three look like… siblings for sure, if not triplets! You’re certain you’re not related?”

“No, our parents were friends.” Erik points at the image. “The boy on the right is Fresler. We would see his family once a year, when they visited their vacation cabin in northern Minnesota.”

“What kind of name is… Fresler?” Kristin asks.

Erik shrugs. “Norwegian, I think. I don’t know.”

“Who is she?” Kristin points to the girl in the picture, sandwiched in between Erik and Fresler.

“That’s Karena. Her family would visit every so often. They lived in Sweden.”

Kristin looks from the picture to Erik, then back, shaking her head. “The resemblance is amazing. What were they like?”

“Fresler was probably the nicest person I have ever known. So empathetic and kind… Really shy too.”

Kristin pokes Erik in the ribs. “Hey, wait a minute… I’m not the nicest person you’ve ever known?”

Erik gives his wife a kiss on the cheek. “You know I love you more than life itself, but… no.”

“Wow… now I know how you truly feel,” says Kristin, smiling despite her sarcastic tone. She looks back at the photo album. “What about Karena? Is she the second-kindest person you’ve ever known?”

“No, but she was nice. She was the smartest person I’ve ever known. She was learning multi-variable calculus and quantum mechanics when she was ten.”

Kristin’s eyebrows reach for her hairline. “Impressive. Have you kept in touch? What are they doing now?”

“I last saw Fresler at my mom’s funeral, when we were eighteen.” He leans into Kristin. “It’s hard to believe that was fourteen years ago.”

She kisses his forehead.

He shakes himself back to the present. “Sorry. Fresler and I are friends on Facebook. He doesn’t post much, but he has written several books on the environment. Novels, not nonfiction.”

“What about Karena?”

“I haven’t seen her since that day…” Erik points to the picture, at the three faces smiling out from the past. “Her family stopped visiting, and we fell out of touch. Knowing Karena, she’s probably busy solving one of the Millennium Prize Problems.”

Kristin tilts her head. “The what?”

Erik flips to the last page in the photo album, explaining, “The Clay Mathematics Institute will pay one million dollars to the person that can solve one of seven mathematical problems that they have listed on their website. I think one of them has already been solved.” He studies the last picture in the book, a serious image of himself on the day he started high school. His hair was tidy from a fresh haircut, and he wore a t-shirt for a band that his parents had hated. He can’t remember what their music sounded like anymore, or whether he’d even really liked the band. He’d probably chosen the shirt because his parents disliked the music. He closes the album, feeling pensive.

Kristin rubs his upper arm. “Maybe you should solve one of those impossible math problems, so we can retire.” She stands up and says, “We need to pack.”

Erik tucks the photo album under his arm. “I’ll bring down the rest of the suitcases.” He returns to the attic, where he gently sets his mother’s pictures—and the memories they brought up—back into the dusty cardboard box.

Chapter 3

Erik rolls over, pulled from the warm depths of sleep by his alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. It reads 4:30 a.m. as he flicks it off. Looking to his right, he finds Kristin’s space empty. His wife has always been a morning person. Erik is not.

I need a cup of coffee, he thinks, rubbing his bleary eyes.

Erik walks into Eria’s bedroom and wakes her up by rubbing her back in gentle circular motions. When she stirs, he says, “Rise and shine” in a low voice. He then goes down to the kitchen, where Kristin is making breakfast.

“You’re a saint, to cook at this time of day.” He kisses his wife on the forehead, inhaling the smell of hash browns, and adds, “Good morning. Are you excited for our trip?”

She nods with a grin. “I can’t wait to relax on the beach.”

“Me too. I’m so glad we packed last night.”

Kristin gestures at the ceiling. “Hey, can you make sure that Eria’s bathroom stuff is packed? I don’t want us to forget it.”

“Sure.” He trudges back upstairs to find Eria still asleep. “Should have known.” He shakes her shoulder. “Eria, you have to get up and brush your teeth so we can pack your bathroom bag.”

She slowly gets out of bed and walks into the adjoining bathroom. He hears water run in the sink. The toilet flushes. When she returns to the bedroom, she’s dressed in the outfit Kristin laid out for her last night: black leggings and a t-shirt with her favorite cartoon character. “Here you go.” She hands him her toothpaste and toothbrush. “Can I pack a book for the trip?”

“Sure, pick one out.” They finish packing up her things and walk down to the kitchen to eat breakfast.

Kristin hands both of them plates heaped with scrambled eggs and hash browns. She sets a cup of milk by Eria’s plate and a cup of coffee by Erik’s. Then she takes her own plate to the sink and says, “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

As she leaves the room, Erik puts his hand on Eria’s. “I downloaded some movies to watch on our flight.”

From the stairs, Kristin calls back, “Don’t forget the splitter so you can both listen.”

Erik leans in close to his daughter. “Mommy doesn’t miss a thing, does she?” He raises his voice so Kristin will hear him. “Already packed!”

The minutes tick down to Stephan’s arrival. Erik clears the table and Eria helps him load the dishwasher. When Kristin returns, hair damp, he’s putting all the suitcases by the front door. “I grabbed the extra sunscreen and aloe vera,” he tells her. Thanks to their Nordic heritage, all three of them are prone to sunburns. “I couldn’t find Eria’s sun hat.”

“It’s on the top shelf in the hall closet,” Kristin says.

Through the window, Erik sees headlights in the darkness, coming up their long driveway. “Stephan’s here!” He opens the front door to greet his brother-in-law.

Kristin is darting from room to room, making sure all of the doors and windows are locked and that the thermostat is set to the energy-saving setting they use whenever they’re away. “Eria!” she calls, and the six-year-old runs into the foyer just in time to slam into her uncle’s arms.

“Is everyone ready for their big trip?” Stephan ruffles Eria’s hair.

“Yes!” the girl squeals.

“Great. Let’s get you to the airport.”

* * *

On a Saturday morning at 6:00 a.m., the trip over to the Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport is a quick twenty-minute drive.

Stephan drops them off in front of the Lindbergh terminal, the designated spot for all those flying Delta. He helps Erik pull the luggage from the trunk, then gives everyone a big hug and tells them how much he will miss them. “Have a safe trip. See you in two weeks,” says Stephan. “I won’t throw too many parties in your house while you’re away.”

“Ha, ha.” Kristin hugs her brother. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

They make it through security without incident, and board on time. Before long, Kristin is happily reading People magazine and watching the shifting clouds outside her window. Erik and Eria have their eyes glued to a movie on his iPad, their matching headphones trailing out of the splitter. Eria leans into her dad’s shoulder, her eyelids drooping as the final credits roll.

After six hours in the clouds, they finally arrive at Cyril E. King Airport on St. Thomas. With visions of lounging on the beach, cold drinks in their hands and an island breeze brushing over their bare skin, the family of three rushes to the Red Hook ferry to St. John. There are no airports on St. John that can accommodate commercial airlines, but Erik prefers the leisurely ferry trip with its glittering ocean scenery to a crowded airplane with tiny windows anyway. After the ferry docks, they pick up their rental car and head straight to the rental house where they will be spending the next fourteen days.

They pull up in the steep driveway and Kristin and Eria “ooh” and “ahh” over the large stained-glass window above the beautiful entryway, depicting a red and white sailboat on crystalline waters. The sea is blocked by the front of the house, but the pictures on the internet promised a spectacular ocean view. Excited to see the inside, they leave the luggage in the trunk for later. They rush through the white door and gape at the picturesque scene in front of them. The home’s open floor plan allows a view of the back patio through the wide, sliding glass door. As Eria rushes to claim her own room, Kristin and Erik walk out onto the patio and breathe in the salt air. Erik wraps an arm around Kristin and hugs her tight, drinking in the calm waves lapping the white beach.

Kristin beams up at Erik and says, “This place is amazing!”

Erik runs a thumb over her cheek as he softly kisses her lips. “Yes, it is. Thanks for booking everything. I can’t wait to spend the next fourteen days here… with the love of my life.”

A small wicker and glass patio table with matching chairs faces the short stepping stone walkway down to the beach. Erik thinks to himself that it will be the perfect place to watch the sunset each evening and have breakfast each morning, greeted by the soothing sound of the crashing waves.

Through an open window, Erik hears Eria jumping on her bed and singing a new self-made ditty about having her own beach bedroom. Erik smiles, figuring he’s even more excited than Eria about having separate bedrooms on opposite sides of the house.

“It will be nice to just lie on the beach,” Erik says into Kristin’s hair.

Kristin pokes his chest. “We’re not going to just lounge on the beach each day. I’ve already reserved kayaks and booked a tour of the Annaberg Sugar Plantation.”

Erik rolls his eyes good-naturedly. His wife’s idea of a restful vacation might not be exactly the same as his own, but he trusts her to choose activities they’ll all enjoy.  

“As soon as we finish unpacking,” Kristin tells Erik, “I want to go to the store to get groceries for dinner.” She turns to head back inside, but Erik grabs her hand.

“Can’t it wait?” he pleads, kissing her palm. But he knows that look on her face. Kristin genuinely loves cooking. Plus, as much as she adores the state-of-the-art kitchen they have at home, she also loves the challenge of cooking in a new environment, with new, local ingredients.

Sure enough, Kristin gives him a mischievous smile. “I have an even better idea. Why don’t you two unpack, and I’ll head out to the store.” At Erik’s nod, she hops in the rented convertible Ford Mustang, the top down, her blonde hair twisted into a knot on the back of her head and designer sunglasses perched on her nose. She waves to Erik and Eria as she rolls out of their driveway, eager for the day’s first adventure.

* * *

As Kristin waits in the check-out line, she overhears a tip about a nearby bakery that makes amazing cakes. Even though she plans to make Eria’s birthday cake herself, she’s never one to pass up a good dessert. She decides to take a detour to check it out.

She soon finds herself on a winding, dangerous road. As she turns a corner, the brake lights from the car in front of her force her to a screeching halt, the convertible’s nose an inch from the other car’s bumper. After the initial shock, it takes a few moments for her pulse to slow down. As the delay stretches out, she taps an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel and adjusts her glasses on her face with frustrated huffs. She drives at a crawl for over a mile. The last time they vacationed on St. John, she never saw traffic of any kind, much less bumper-to-bumper. A half hour later, she learns the cause. Red, white, blue, and orange lights signal the presence of an ambulance and three police cars before the wreck comes into view. A mangled car sits in a ditch at the side of the road. The driver’s-side door, wrenched free by the “jaws of life,” lies abandoned against a palm. As Kristin’s car approaches the accident, the ambulance’s back door closes, and the paramedics roar off for the hospital, sirens blaring.

Stressed and itching to get out of the car, Kristin abandons the bakery as a lost cause and heads back to the beach house. When she finally arrives, Erik rushes out the front door, phone clutched tight in his hand and worry scrawled across his face.

“What took so long?” he asks, pulling her into a hug. “I was worried, and when I called your cell there was no reception.”

“Sorry, I ran into some traffic. There was an accident.” Kristin opens the trunk and starts unloading the food she bought.

“That’s unusual on St. John. I hope everyone was alright.” Erik grabs two armfuls of groceries and asks, “Want to head down to the beach? We still have a few hours of daylight left.”

“Sure…” she says, following him through the front door, loaded down with a few bags of her own. “But I want to make some sandwiches first.” She also wants to shake off the anxiety and frustration of the past half-hour. She doesn’t want to start her long-awaited vacation off on a sour note.

She takes her time making snacks, letting the familiar motions calm and rejuvenate her. Then, she collects Erik and Eria and they grab the beach towels, umbrella, and beach chairs that come with the rental house and hop across the stepping stones that lead to the beach. It’s a perfect seventy-two and sunny, with a steady breeze to boot, and they have the whole stretch of beach, as far as the eye can see, to themselves.  

Erik settles into his chair, watching the foam-crested waves beat a steady rhythm on the shore. What a perfect day, he thinks. Then his eyes find Eria playing on her knees, making something that might be a horse, or perhaps a giraffe, out of piles of sand. He pulls out his phone and records her, determined to keep this idyllic memory fresh forever.

But as he watches Eria play in silence, he can’t help feeling something… missing. He shuts off the video and looks over at Kristin as she turns a page in her book. “Do you ever feel guilty that Eria is an only child?”

Kristin places her bookmark and turns to Erik. “We made that decision together… to just have one. The world is over-populated as it is.”

“I know why we decided to have one, but don’t you feel guilty that she doesn’t have any siblings to play with? You and Stephan had each other. I was lonely… I hated being an only child.” He thinks of the photo of himself, Fresler, and Karena that his mother saved in that album in the attic. What would it have been like to have kids close to his own age around all the time, instead of just during those annual visits?

Kristin purses her lips, pondering. “Stephan and I did play a lot together. We’re only a year apart. Don’t get me wrong, he liked to tease me… but… he was a good big brother.” She smiles, thinking fondly of her childhood. “He was so protective of me. He would tease me all the time, but he wouldn’t let anyone else give me a bad time.”

Erik laughs.

“He’s the same way with you,” Kristin says with a smirk.

Erik narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”

She snickers. “If I ever try to complain about you…” She shakes her head. “Oh my God! He will immediately jump down my throat!”

“You complain about me?”

“Never,” Kristin says immediately, her voice still filled with laughter. “You’re perfect.”

“Right.” Erik laughs. “But I know what you mean. When we were rooming together, Stephan wouldn’t let anyone give me a bad time… even if they were just joking around.” Erik’s smile turns pensive. “He was such a great roommate. If it wasn’t for your brother, I don’t know if I would have made it through my freshman year.”

“Yes… I know… you’ve mentioned it many times.”

“But it’s true. I can’t believe how lucky I was that he and I were paired together.”

Kristin pulls her sunglasses slightly down her nose and gives him a piercing look. “Yeah, what are the odds that University Housing would pair two neuroscience majors together… that both happen to be originally from Iceland?” she asks. “On paper, you two have absolutely nothing in common.”

Erik rolls his eyes at the sarcasm. “Well, I’m still glad fate put us together.”

His wife takes his hand and looks over at Eria patting the edges of her sand animal smooth. “Look at her, Erik. She’s thriving. She’s never asked us for a brother or sister. Besides, why would Eria need a sibling when she has you and Stephan at her beck and call?”

Erik’s concerned frown flips into a soft grin. “True… Stephan and I do play with Eria plenty, when we’re not at work.”

“Also, you’re both like big kids,” Kristin teases. “But speaking of how much Eria sees Stephan—I love my big brother, but he is over… all the time! When was the last time he had dinner at his own place?”

“Stop being such a good cook.” With that, Erik scoots off his chair and joins Eria in the sand.

Chapter 4

August 1st, 2017

After a massive dinner of all of Eria’s favorites, Kristin walks out of the kitchen carrying Eria’s homemade, purple-frosted birthday cake. Eria, who had been looking groggy after a whole day of play in the sun, perks up and claps in delight. Her nose and cheeks are pink from a week’s worth of rays, but her thin shoulders are darkening to a lovely buttery tan that sets off her blue eyes. To Erik, she looks absolutely cherubic.

Erik starts up a rousing, off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Kristin joins in, sounding considerably more melodic.

“Make a wish, Eria,” says Kristin, as Erik drags out the last note.

Eria blows out the seven candles. “I can’t tell you what I wished for, or it won’t come true,” she announces. She flashes a missing bottom tooth in a wide grin when she spies a pink-and-silver–wrapped box next to the couch. “Ooh! Can I open my birthday present?”

“Sure,” says Erik.

Eria rushes to the couch and nabs the package. She shifts it from hand to hand, testing its weight. “Is it a cell phone?” 

Kristin rolls her eyes. "Are you kidding me? You know you are too young for a cell phone.”  

Eria rips through the paper, flings off the lid, and discovers only clothes. Her little face droops with disappointment, but she says thank you anyways.

“Wait,” Erik says. “There is one more gift you need to open.” Erik pulls a package from the hallway closet and hands it to Eria. Her tiny, red-painted nails anxiously tear off the wrapping paper, and she starts to scream, “Yes! That’s exactly what I wanted. Thank you so much!" She hugs them both, still clutching the Dell Inspiron laptop she’d been asking for since last Christmas.

Kristin thinks seven is too young for a laptop, but Erik believes Eria is ready. His daughter is so much like him at that age—so precocious. Things come so easily to her that she is bored in school. The computer will give her an outlet.

Kristin, her disapproval of the laptop only hinted at in a subtle line between her eyebrows, opens up the UPS box sitting on the kitchen counter. “These gifts came in the mail today, from Stephan.”

Erik shakes his head and smiles. “Your brother never forgets an anniversary or birthday.”

He and Kristin open up their anniversary gift together on the couch. It’s a gift card to The Capital Grille, one of their favorite restaurants in Minneapolis. Eria opens her gift and discovers it is Super Mario Brothers Kart. She squeals in excitement and holds up the game. “I can’t wait to play it.”

“You’ll have to thank your uncle.”

Eria looks up at Erik with those beautiful blue eyes and asks, “Can we watch a movie before I have to go to bed? Please? We’re on vacation, and it’s my birthday.”

“Okay, since we’re on vacation and it’s your birthday,” Erik says, scooping his baby girl in for a tight hug. “In fact, I will hook up my iPad to the TV, so we can watch your… favorite movie.”

Kristin comes up behind them both and murmurs in Erik’s ear, “You can’t say no to her, can you?”

He shoots his wife an unapologetic grin and walks over to get his iPad. He mumbles to himself, ‘It’s her birthday for God’s sake’. With the movie about to start, they all sink into the couch together. Nice and cozy. Kristin rests her head on Erik’s left shoulder, and he hugs Eria against him on his right.

Kristin looks up at Erik and says, “How many times have we seen this movie?”

Erik just smiles back as Peter Quill, a.k.a., Star-Lord, blares his Walkman over the TV speaker. Erik bobs his head to ‘I’m Not in Love’ by 10cc. Erik doesn’t mind watching the same movie for the hundredth or even thousandth time, when he gets to do it with his two girls. He can’t imagine anywhere else on God’s green earth that he would rather be than sandwiched in between the two loves of his life. This is his idea of heaven.

* * *

Later that evening, after Eria has been put to bed, Kristin wanders onto the patio. The moonlight shines on the ocean waves and illuminates her light hair with a pale glow like a star. The breeze makes Kristin’s flowing white dress flap gently around her knees. One strap falls off her shoulder as she sways to “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers—one of their favorites.

Erik watches her, thinking that this is the perfect setting for their anniversary. Even though it isn’t until tomorrow. He wonders how he got so lucky. She looks stunning in the moonlight.

He comes up behind her and puts his arms around her waist. He whispers how much he loves her in her ear. She turns to run her palms along his chest, and he pulls her into a long kiss. When they come up for air, Erik says, softly, “Bedroom?”

“Bedroom,” Kristin agrees with a sultry smile.

Erik takes her by the hand, leading her inside and across the living area toward the bedroom. Footsteps from their door, he can’t resist pressing her against the wall and running his hands over her body. She moans into his mouth, and he smiles with anticipation. “Kristin—”

“Daddy! Daddy!” Eria runs out of her bedroom, and Erik and Kristin jolt apart. Kristin smooths her dress and Erik takes a moment to collect himself before turning.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you read me one more bedtime story?”

Before Erik can even say anything, Kristin rolls her eyes. “I know you’re a sucker for bedtime stories. Go.”

“Just one story,” Erik warns, crossing the room toward his daughter.

She hops into her twin bed, pulling the covers up to her chest, and hands him the book she had waiting on the nightstand. Erik settles in beside her to recount the story of Little Nutbrown Hare and his attempt to prove that his love for his father, Big Nutbrown Hare, reaches all the way to the moon and back.

Kristin waits for Erik on the couch. Just as she opens her book, a ding from her laptop draws her attention. It’s Stephan on FaceTime. She answers to see Stephan sitting at his kitchen counter.

“Happy anniversary!” he shouts with all the enthusiasm of a child.

“Thanks, Stephan. But you’re a day early.”

“I know, but I also wanted to wish my beautiful niece a happy birthday. Where is she?”

“She’s in her bedroom. Erik is reading her a second bedtime story.”

Stephan makes a face at missing Eria. “Ah well. I can always FaceTime her tomorrow. I also wanted to find out if you would like to go with me to see Mom. Dad can get us a great deal on Icelandair. I can go ahead and book our flights for next month.” 

“How long are you planning to stay?” asks Kristin. 

“About two weeks.” 

“Let me think about it.” Kristin chews at her cheek. She’d like to see her mom, who only seems to be getting worse, but the trip would require a lot of time away from Erik and Eria … and work.

In the bedroom, Erik reads Big Nutbrown Hare’s whispered proof that a father’s love can’t be topped. “I love you right up to the moon and back,” he recites, then kisses Eria on the forehead.

Eria reaches out for Erik. He leans in, letting her wrap her short arms around his neck. “Daddy…” She looks up at Erik, hypnotizing him with those eyes. “Do you love me to the moon and back?”

Erik smiles wide. “Oh… my beautiful Eria.” He kisses her head again and again. “My love for you isn’t limited to the moon and back. It has no limits. You and your mom… you’re the loves of my life.” He stands up and turns off the bedroom light. “Happy birthday, sweetie.”

He shuts the door, already thinking about picking up where he and Kristin left off, but when he enters the living room, he finds Kristin on her laptop, talking to Stephan. Alone time will have to wait a few more minutes. Erik sits next to Kristin on the couch and waves at Stephan.  

“What’s so important that you have to interrupt our vacation?” he chides, knowing Stephan will see right through his supposed indignation. “It’s our anniversary tomorrow, remember?” He pulls Kristin in for a kiss.  

Stephan grins. "Of course I didn’t forget. Happy anniversary, Erik! I’m trying to book a flight to go see Mom. She’s not improving, so I think we should see her.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Erik says, rubbing Kristin’s forearm. “Send us your itinerary and we’ll look into joining you. All of us.”

Kristin’s eyes glisten as she smiles at Erik. “Thanks… I love you.”   

“You know I love visiting your mom. Eria will love the trip too.”

Stephan bobs his head. “Great, I’ll email you my itinerary after I book my flight. I’ll let you get back to your anniversary celebration.”

“Goodnight, Stephan,” Kristin says. “By the way, thanks for the gift card.”

“You’re welcome.” Stephan signs off.

Erik shuts Kristin’s laptop down and grabs her by the hand. “Where were we?" She smiles back at him and lets him lead her to their bedroom.

He locks the door… just in case.

* * *

August 2nd, 2017

Out on the patio in the bright morning light, Kristin can feel the cool ocean breeze blowing off the ocean, ruffling her hair. She takes a sip from her coffee mug as she skims her emails. She set an out-of-office for the trip but figures it can’t hurt to see if anything major has happened at the lab in her absence.

Erik emerges from the bedroom in his workout clothes. He sees Kristin in her sweats, bent over her laptop—a familiar scene with a bright new backdrop. A smile splits his face as he walks outside to greet her with a kiss.

“Good morning. Happy anniversary.”

She stands up to wrap him in a big hug. “Happy anniversary, sweetie.”

“How did you sleep last night?” 

She sits back down, rubbing her slender fingers over her forehead as she looks up at Erik. “Not great. I got up around five and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“Brain buzzing?” Erik asks. It’s the term the two of them use for thoughts that won’t let them rest.

“A bit,” Kristin admits.

“What about?” Erik begins to stretch.

“Nothing in particular. I just feel…” Kristin shrugs.

“Anxious.”

“We’re in paradise,” Erik says. “No anxiety allowed.”

Kristin forces a smile. “Noted. But you can’t tell me that your brain hasn’t been buzzing at all since we’ve been here. That you haven’t been thinking at all about Timothy’s case—about the levitating boulders that supposedly healed him.”

Erik freezes with his head near his knee. “Maybe a little.” Then he relaxes. “But I’m trying not to. That problem will still be there when we get home. In the meantime, I’m going for a run. Let’s go out to Miss Lucy’s for breakfast when I get back.”

“Okay.”

He kisses her again. “Back in an hour,” he says, and takes off.

As soon as his silhouette is a distant dot on the beach, Eria appears, groggy-eyed, at the back door. “Are we going out to eat?” she asks.

“Actually,” Kristin says slowly, “I think I’d rather make Daddy a special breakfast. Do you want to help me?”

“Sure!”  

Kristin smiles at Eria. “Let’s go to the Coral Bay Garden Center down the street. We can get some fresh ingredients to make breakfast for Daddy. If we hurry, we’ll be back before he is finished with his run.” Eria nods through a yawn, and the two of them quickly change clothes and jump into their rental car.

The Garden Center is a bustling farmer’s market, and the crammed stands flaunt the bright colors of fresh produce and lure people in with the scent of freshly baked bread. Kristin and Eria weave between the vegetable stands, with Eria pointing out every unfamiliar ingredient she sees.

After purchasing enough locally grown vegetables for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and leftovers, they get back on the 10 Highway. Kristin cranks the radio, enjoying the wind in her hair. Eria sings along, letting her small hand dangle over the side door and do the wave in the car’s slipstream. Kristin makes the sharp turn around the first bend and lays on her horn, narrowly missing an oncoming car that had drifted into her lane. Eria shrieks, startled by the horn, but quickly resumes her singing, not fully aware of the danger they barely avoided. Kristin tries to calm her frantic heart with long, slow breaths, thinking of the wreck she saw on their first day here. She adjusts her sunglasses and then holds the wheel firm in both hands, glad to have only a mile left to the rental house. Only one more hill, and the road will begin to straighten out.

As she crests the top, she spies a delivery truck headed her way. She moves over toward the shoulder as far as she can, trying to leave the truck space as the road dips.

Just before the truck’s grill passes the front of her car, its right tire blows—a sound like popping a balloon full of explosives. Eria’s scream is high and shrill. Kristin doesn’t have time to make a sound as the truck swerves into her lane. She thrusts out her arm, bracing it across Eria’s chest and pushing her flat against the seat. The truck smashes into the Mustang with the force of a hurricane, and the airbags deploy like the fire of a gun, making Kristin bite through her own tongue as her head slams against the head rest.

The world tips.

Everything goes dark.

Chapter 5

Erik pulls out his earbuds as he comes through the back door, sweaty from his run on the beach. He yells out for Kristin and Eria but gets no response. A peek out the front reveals the rental car is gone. He wonders where they have gone.

They wouldn't go to breakfast without me, would they?

Erik grabs his phone and calls Kristin. No answer. He pulls up the tracking app that lets him glimpse Kristin’s location as a small blue blip on a map. Maybe he can meet the two of them, wherever they are. He’s surprised to see that Kristin’s phone is only a mile away. He refreshes the tracker several times, but the blue dot stays put. The map shows no traffic.

Erik feels the first whispers of worry unfurl inside him. Kristin is less than a mile from home, so he takes off at a full sprint, not bothering with the earbuds, not feeling the heat in his calves, only the hammering of his heart. A wide, smooth, landscaped curve blocks his view of the main road as he hurdles onto the street. His panic builds, his shoes slapping the pavement in rhythm with his pulse. He rounds the bend and nearly collapses.

Their rental car lies twisted, mangled, and overturned in a ditch. Sirens blare and emergency lights flash. Erik stumbles forward, disoriented and trembling all over.

Kristin… Eria…

He wants to shout, but he can’t remember how to make a sound. Nothing feels real. Nothing, aside from the creeping sense of dread in his chest and the ringing in his ears. As he draws nearer to the scene, the sight of paramedics carrying stretchers from the ditch gets his legs back under him, and he runs, praying he’ll see Kristin smiling at him through an oxygen mask, see Eria’s blue eyes find him and her arms reach out for a comforting hug.

But he sees only blank, white sheets. Their faces are covered. The air leaves his body in a whoosh, forcing him to his knees. His eyes burn as he stares at the forms beneath the sheets, the second one oh-so-small, but the shock won’t let the tears fall.

Not until the stretchers are loaded into the back of the ambulance and the sirens are turned off does the cold, choking hand of shock relinquish its grip and free the sobs from his throat.

Erik’s moans of agony at last draw the attention of the police officer interviewing the haggard delivery truck driver. He approaches with pity in his eyes and crouches next to Erik.

“Was that your wife and daughter we pulled from the car?”

Erik looks up at the husky, gray-haired man with bloodshot eyes. He manages a raspy, “Yes.”

The policeman nods slowly and rubs at his thick beard. “I’m so sorry for your loss, sir.” He stands up and stares at Erik for a few moments before continuing. “I need you to come with me to the VIPD. I have a few questions for you and some forms that need to be filled out. Can I give you a ride?"  

Erik nods.

The officer extends his hand and lifts Erik to his feet. The man is surprised to see that Erik towers over him by ten inches. “My name is Michael. What’s your name?”

“Erik Jakobson.”

“Let me put someone else in charge of the scene here,” Michael says, “and then I’ll drive you to the station.”

Erik gets in the back seat of the police car while Michael walks over to one of the other officers. Erik rests his head in his hands and lets the tears flow freely again, his whole body shuddering as he sobs.

My girls are gone.

The thought is a serrated blade, bringing fresh agony ripping through his heart. His silent tears turn into wails as the sun slowly disappears behind the thick, dark clouds. A few moments later, a light rain patters on the front windshield.

Erik chokes off his sobs and wipes away the tears as Michael walks back to the car. He gets in the front seat and looks in his rear-view mirror at Erik. He opens his mouth and then closes it with a sigh.

They sit in silence on the drive over to the Virgin Islands Police Department. No radio. Only the squeaking of the windshield wipers. Erik stares out his window, watching the rain fall as if the sky is mourning his loss.

When they arrive at the station, Michael gets out and opens the door for Erik. “I have something I need to do, but you can wait in my office until I’m finished.”

Erik nods and follows behind the officer with his eyes on his shoes. Michael is greeted by an officer manning the small station’s front desk. He escorts Erik down the long hallway to his office—a cramped cubby hole overlooking the parking lot. Two large windows flank the door in an attempt to make the space feel bigger. Instead, they eliminate privacy. Erik can feel the station staff stealing glances at him.

Erik takes a seat by Michael’s desk.

Michael stands by the entrance and says, “I should be back in about thirty minutes. Do you need anything? Water?”

Erik can only shake his head no.

Michael shuts the door behind him, leaving Erik alone and at the mercy of his thoughts. He glances down to find he is still in his running shorts and t-shirt. A gust of wind drives the rain against the window, demanding his attention, but he turns away. The droplets racing down the glass look too much like tears. He scans Michael’s desk and counts four picture frames. Pictures of Michael with his wife and kids, teenagers it looks like. There is a picture of his family at their son’s high school graduation. Fresh tears sting Erik’s eyes as he realizes Eria will never grow up, never learn how to drive, never go to homecoming or graduate from high school.

Erik sinks deep into the dark chasm of his thoughts, mulling over the sorrow, trying to figure out how this could happen, and unable to find any answers. When he pulls himself out of the abyss, he’s shocked to see forty-five minutes have passed. His thoughts turn to Stephan, and to Stephan and Kristin’s parents, Hanna and Olafur.

I have to call Stephan. How do I tell him that his sister and niece are… gone?

“Sorry that took so long.” Michael enters the room suddenly, shutting the door. “We are still investigating the accident, but it appears that no one is at fault. The driver of the delivery truck that… hit your wife and daughter…” Michael’s voice is gentle and apologetic. “He lost control of his truck after his tire blew. We still have more work to do before we can finalize our report. Unfortunately, you’ll have to ID the bodies. I’m so sorry, Erik." 

Erik nods, a numbness trickling down his spine as he stares at his hands. He clears his throat, trying to speak past the lump lodged there. "I’ll need to make arrangements to have their bodies flown back to the US. Can someone help me with that?" 

"Yes, we have someone here that can help you. Unfortunately, you won't be able to transport them for another two to three days. Do you have a place to stay in the meantime?" 

“Yes, we—” Erik winces so hard it actually hurts and corrects himself. “I have a rental house where I can stay. We’re—I’m—booked through next week.”

“We have these forms for you to fill out.” Michael taps a pen on the papers on his desk. “Do you want to do this tomorrow?”

“No, let’s get this over with.”

“Okay. I can drive you to your rental house after we’re finished.”

Erik nods.

The paperwork takes an hour of mind-numbing recitals of personal information. After they finish, Michael drives Erik back to his house. Erik spends his time in the backseat thinking of a way to tell Stephan the devastating news.

At the rental house, Erik thanks the officer as he slides out of the car. The cruiser drives off, and Erik slowly makes his way to the door. He swings it open and just stands in the entrance, frozen, his mind half expecting Eria to come shooting out of her room. He can’t fully accept that it’ll never happen again. Can’t fully believe any of it. If only this were just a bad dream. He could go to their bedroom, lie down, and wait for it to be over. He walks over the threshold, ready to do just that, but as he crosses the living space, he sees Eria’s new laptop sitting on the kitchen counter, and reality slaps an unforgiving hand across his face. The tears don’t come in a trickle, or a steady stream, but in a raucous, raging flood.

* * *

Five hours slip by in a haze, and the sun sets, leaving Erik sitting in the dark at the kitchen table, staring at Eria’s new laptop. His stomach rumbles at him, trying to pull him back to the moment, reminding him he hasn’t eaten all day. He doesn’t want to eat. Not now. Possibly not ever again.

He rubs a hand over his face and blinks through the dark. He realizes that he still hasn’t called Stephan. He can’t put it off any longer.

He stares at his cell phone for a solid minute before gathering the courage to make the call. As soon as he hits send, he starts to cry. Stephan answers, and Erik doesn’t say a word. He covers the phone with his hand to muffle the sobbing.

“Erik, are you there?” Stephan asks for a third time.

Finally, Erik gathers the strength to say, “Yes, I’m here.”

“What’s up?” his brother-in-law says, through a nervous chuckle.

Erik’s voice cracks as he says, “There was an accident.”

Two heartbeats go by before Stephan asks in a low, urgent voice, “Were Kristin and Eria hurt?”

Erik’s jaw trembles, and then he lets his sobs echo down the line.

Stephan lets out a pained sound, like he was punched in the gut. “Just tell me, Erik,” he manages, his voice already devastated.

Erik struggles to form the words around his cries of sorrow. “They’re… dead.” Stephan lets out a sound like a strangled war cry, and Erik hears a thud on the other end, as if Stephan collapsed into a chair.

A few seconds go by with nothing but tears passing between them. Finally, Stephan asks, “How did it happen?”

Erik struggles to regain his composure, clearing his throat too loud and swiping at his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Kristin was driving with Eria when they were hit head-on by a delivery truck after its tire blew.”

“Oh my God!” Stephan continues to cry. After a few moments he says, “I’ll fly out to St. John right away and help you with the arrangements.”

“No, you stay there. I’ve already begun making arrangements to have their bodies flown back to the US. It can’t happen for a couple days. I’m going to stay here until then. I can’t imagine leaving here without them.”

“Okay, Erik.”

Erik takes a few shuddering breaths to keep himself together. “Can you call Hanna and Olafur for me? I’ll try to call Kristin’s boss… and Terri.”

“Of course. Do you want me to make the… funeral arrangements?”

“Yes,” Erik says, and then pauses. “Kristin wanted to be cremated. Hopefully, I can have both of them cremated here. But if you could plan the service, that would be great.”

“I will. Let me know when you arrive, and I’ll pick you up at the airport. Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“Thanks… Love you, Stephan.”

“Love you too.”

Erik hangs up and looks over at the bedroom where he and Kristin slept side by side for the last seven nights. Exhaustion pulls at his eyelids, and he knows he should rest, but the prospect of crawling into bed without the warmth and weight of Kristin next to him is unbearable. They have shared the same bed for the last eight years. The last time he slept alone was when Kristin visited her mom without him two years ago.

He curls up on the couch, pulling a throw blanket over his body, but he can’t get comfortable. His long body doesn’t fit. After tossing and turning for an hour, he gives in and trudges to the bedroom. He climbs into bed. The right side, by habit. He lies on his back and looks over, imagining Kristin’s long blonde hair sprawled out over her pillow. If she were there, he would scoot close and wrap his arm around her and melt into the warmth of her body. They fit so perfectly together.

His aching throat constricts as all he sees now is a cold, dark empty bed.

His eyes find the nightstand. He opens the drawer and pulls out a small box covered in wrapping paper. There is a card attached, a card with a sentiment he wrote carefully, wanting to get every word just right. He was planning to give Kristin her anniversary gift when they were alone.

He never got the chance.

Chapter 6

August 5th, 2017

On the patio, an unseasonably chilly wind bringing color to his cheeks, Erik looks at his cell phone. He opens up his Delta App to check his boarding pass. August 5th.

I can’t believe it has been three days since...

He clicks away into his favorites and dials Stephan.

“Erik,” his brother-in-law says in a low soft tone.

“Stephan… hi. My flight should arrive around two-thirty.”

“Okay. I’ll be there to pick you up.” Stephan hesitates, and then asks, “How are you doing?”

Erik rubs his eyes. “I haven’t slept at all. I thought I would never experience anything more painful than the death of my parents.” Erik’s dad, Joe, lost his battle with Leukemia in August of 2003, the year Erik graduated from high school. Within a month of Joe’s death, his mom, Glendoris, took her own life. “That was awful,” Erik says, his voice ragged. “This is worse.”

“We’ll get through this together.”

The sincerity in the other man’s voice, grief-stricken as he is, nearly bowls Erik over. “Thanks, Stephan.”

Erik hangs up and allows himself to be hypnotized by the ocean waves crashing on the shore. The pain is so intense, so overwhelming, that he can’t think about anything but his cold new reality—he will never see, touch, or talk to his wife and daughter again.

Erik looks at his watch.

The taxi should be here in a couple of hours. I need to pack.

He gets to work piling all of Eria’s clothes into her suitcase. His hand pauses, hovering over the book that he read to her on her birthday: Guess how much I love you. He holds the book against his chest as the tears take hold of him again. Each time, he thinks he won’t be able to make any more tears, and each time, his grief proves him wrong.

He moves into the master bedroom and collects Kristin’s belongings. In a drawer, buried beneath pajamas, he finds the anniversary gift she was planning to give him, along with a card. He stares at them for a few moments, then packs the box and envelope unopened. He can’t bring himself to open the gift or read her words in the card. Not yet.

Finished, he wanders aimlessly around the house until his ride pulls up in the driveway. He grabs the suitcases and puts them in the taxi. The taxi driver smiles at Erik and says, “Wow, you pack a lot when you go on vacation.”

Erik bites his tongue and gets in the back without a word.

* * *

Erik is unbearably tired, but when he closes his eyes, he doesn’t see sun or lush clouds. All he sees is death, destruction, and sorrow. The mangled car, windshield smashed from the roll-over, the doors dented and twisted. The stretchers and the white-shrouded forms—one big, one oh-so-small.

He shifts his restless legs, trying to get comfortable and slip into the deep sleep he craves, but the hulking gentleman to his left is slowly encroaching further into his space. With the last-minute change to his flight arrangements, there was no way to book his customary exit row seat, and his long legs are starting to cramp.

Erik pulls out his phone and starts to watch the video of Eria playing on the beach, but a loud scream across the aisle distracts him. He glances over to see a young mother and father with their heads bent together, trying desperately to comfort their fussy one-year old. He thinks to himself how happy he was when Eria got past that stage in her life. Now, he would give anything to go back.

When Erik’s flight finally lands in Minneapolis, he heads to the baggage claim to retrieve his three checked suitcases, acutely aware of his “party of one” status. He walks alone. Checks the flight numbers posted above the claim conveyor belts, alone. Hauls the suitcases off by himself and has no one to pass them to. No one to talk to.

All around him, families move together. A father holds his infant daughter, patting her on her back. A mother ruffles her son’s hair and hands him his rolling suitcase.

Do they understand how lucky they are to have each other?

While Erik tries to wrangle the three suitcases, a dark figure catches his eye. The older woman’s eyes are concealed by a black lace veil, but he’s certain she’s staring at him. She looks horribly out of place in her long, plain black dress and fancy button-lined gloves. Erik looks away, uncomfortable, but then he wonders if she too is in mourning, so he glances back, thinking of her as a kindred spirit. She is still staring. Her mouth is a hard, blank line.

A strange, cold feeling washes over Erik as he realizes something: he’s seen this woman before. But where—and when? The memory is palpable but elusive, slipping in and out of his grasp like thick fog in the air. He squints, aiming all of his concentration at her until a crowd of people blocks her from view, and the ding of his phone pulls his eyes downward. It’s Stephan, letting him know he’s arrived at the airport.

When Erik looks up again, the woman in black is gone. With a sigh, he grabs a cart and plops the suitcases on top of it before heading to the exit. Stephan is parked out in front and is leaning against his car. As their eyes lock, they both start to tear up. Stephan greets Erik with a hug before helping him toss the suitcases in the trunk.

As they pull away, Stephan asks, “How are you holding up?”

“Not good. You?”

Stephan shakes his head. “I’m struggling. I can’t… focus.”

“Have you been to work?”

“No.”

They get in the car in silence. Stephan navigates to the 494 freeway. “Do you want to talk about the funeral arrangements?” he finally asks.

“Okay.”

“The services will be on August 10th at 2:00 p.m. I’ve spoken with a minister who can give the eulogies, unless you had someone specific in mind.”

Erik shakes his head.

“Since they were cremated, there’s no viewing, but we can have time for family and close friends before the larger gathering.”

“Okay.”

Stephan gives Erik a long look. “You know what? We can discuss this more later. After you’ve gotten some rest.”

Erik doesn’t bother telling his brother-in-law that he doesn’t know how to rest anymore. “Thanks, Stephan. You’re the only family that I have left.”

“That's not true,” Stephan says immediately. “You know Mom and Dad think of you as their own.”

It’s a nice thing to say, and probably true, but Erik still feels devastatingly alone.

When Stephan pulls into the driveway, Erik blinks at his house. It no longer feels like home. Dread seeps into his bones as he thinks of the empty hallways, Eria’s room with toys still strewn across the floor, and the bed he’ll never again share with Kristin. Now all of the fond memories made in this place will be nothing but a constant reminder of Kristin and Eria, and the fact that they’re no longer here. They purchased the house before Eria was born. He remembers the day they brought her home from the hospital, how flustered and unprepared they’d felt to care for the tiny human who now shared their lives.

Stephan helps Erik bring the bags into the house. Only ten days ago, he’d helped Erik carry the suitcases to the car. Strange how less than two weeks could suddenly become a lifetime.

Stephan drops the suitcases in the living room. “Do you want me to stay for a while?”

“No, you go home. I’ll be ok. Thanks, Stephan,” Erik says, pulling him into a hug.

Stephan holds the hug for a long time before letting go. “See you tomorrow.”

After the front door closes, in the echoing silence of his enormous house, Erik stares at the luggage and thinks to himself, what am I supposed to do with their clothes?

Chapter 7

August 10th, 2017

Erik is lying on cold bedsheets, staring at the ceiling. His hand slides over to the place Kristin should be as he looks at the nightstand. The alarm clock reads 5:30 a.m.

Only eight and a half hours before the funeral services start. Erik closes his eyes, already envisioning the headstones he had placed under a large maple tree by the lake in the backyard, the handcrafted urns that hold his girls’ ashes placed on top. The vision is beautiful and terrible at once, and he feels sick to his stomach.

Erik hauls himself out of bed. When he looks in the bathroom mirror, he hardly recognizes himself. He needs to shave before the services and get dressed in his nice dark navy-blue suit. The one Kristin loved so much. The tears come despite the gritted teeth he tries to use as a barrier to keep them away.

The trek to the kitchen forces him past Eria’s bedroom. Her suitcase sits unpacked on the bed. He shuts her door and goes to make coffee.

Stephan arrives at the house around noon to help Erik prepare for the services. He looks pristine in his black suit and white dress shirt. “Are you going to get dressed soon?” asks Stephan.

Erik just nods.

Stephan looks out the window. “Is everything set up by the lake?”

“Yes,” says Erik, his lips hardly moving. “When do the caterers arrive?”

Stephan looks at his watch. “They should be here by 1:00 p.m.”

“Great.” The word is forced. Nothing about this day is great. Erik sighs. “I’m going to get dressed now.” He heads back to his bedroom, arms heavy at his sides. As he takes his suit from the closet, he hears the back door close downstairs. A glance out the window reveals Stephan walking down to the lake. In his dark suit, surrounded by nothing but pristine nature, Stephan looks every bit as alone as Erik feels.

* * *

The pastor, a thin man with a soft jaw and a receding hairline, arrives at 1:30 p.m. Erik greets him as he treks up the long, paved driveway, past the thirty cars already lining both sides of it. Together, they walk down to the lake, trying to make small talk about the weather before inevitably turning to the eulogy. As they reach the service area, guests are settling into the white foldout chairs facing the maple tree, its thick blanket of red-gold leaves fluttering at the whim of the wind. In front of the maple’s vast trunk sits a plain podium flanked by easels where Kristin and Eria’s faces smile from the center of flower wreaths. The pictures are Erik’s favorites: Kristin’s from their honeymoon, and Eria’s from a day at the park that he now tries to keep on repeat in his mind.

By two o’clock, the guests have found their seats, taking up all but eleven of the seventy-five foldout chairs. Erik scans the crowd and sees mostly colleagues from the University. Professor Ugerbale and his wife are seated in the third row, next to Dzung and her husband. Terri, Eria’s nanny, is in the back row, a tissue already pressed to her eyes. Erik and Stephan take their places in the front row, next to the two empty chairs designated as placeholders for Hanna and Olafur, who were unable to travel due to Hanna’s illness.

The pastor walks up to the podium, looking professionally solemn, and places his bible on it. When he starts to talk, Erik hears only white noise. He locks his eyes onto the sun beams reflected on the lake’s surface. His mind is dreaming up scenarios in which he can talk to Kristin and Eria again, hug them again, kiss them, tell them how badly he misses them. Even if he can’t have them back, he just wants one more moment to hold onto, just wants to say goodbye and to make sure they are not in any pain.

But that’s not possible. Erik will never see them again, as long as he lives.

Erik looks over at Stephan to find him staring at the ground. The pastor says a prayer to close out the eulogy, and Erik drags himself fully back to the present. He told both the pastor and his brother-in-law that he wasn’t interested in speaking today, but for a moment he imagines rushing the podium and pouring out his grief. Would it be cathartic? Or would it make his current hell worse? Before Erik can decide, Stephan is on his feet, walking up to the podium in his place.

“Thank you all for being here,” he says, his voice thick but clear. “There are refreshments back at the house. Please join us.”

Everyone walks back up the small hill to the house, heels sinking in the grass and ties loosening. Their conversations are a low murmur, muted by the lapping waters of the lake behind them.

Erik stays in his seat until he’s sure everyone else has moved on. Then he stands and walks over to the pastor. He has to clear his throat before he can force out a single word. “Thank you for everything. The eulogy was beautiful.”

The other man gives him a sympathetic look. “It was my honor to be here.”

“Do you have a moment?” Erik asks. “I’d like to talk with you… about the afterlife.”

The pastor squeezes Erik’s shoulder and says, “Absolutely. I’d love to go over some scriptures with you. I can’t right now, as I have another appointment to get to, but please do contact me to set something up for later this week. My door is always open.”

Erik nods slowly. “Okay. Sure. Thanks.”

They walk up to the house together, and Erik braces himself as guests flock toward him, offering their condolences one by one. He shakes hands and nods, and an uncomfortable knot forms in his stomach as he tries and fails to find new words to say to each person.

When Professor Ugerbale reaches the front of the receiving line, he says, softly, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Erik nods his thanks. “You take all the time you need, Erik,” his mentor goes on. “Your job is waiting for you when you are ready.”

“Thanks, Professor. I appreciate it.”

Erik gives him a small smile before turning away to look out the front window. Erik’s heart drops farther into his stomach when he sees Terri sitting on the front porch in one of the two custom white rockers where he and Kristin watched the wind blowing through the maple trees and planned out their lives. He moves through the crowd and out into the pleasant breeze to join the woman who cared for his daughter almost as much as he and his wife did.

“Hi, Terri,” he says, voice soft and cautious as he sits beside her. “Thanks for coming.”

She stares out at the maple trees in the distance, the sun kissing their tops as it begins its descent toward the horizon. She at last looks Erik’s way and shakes her head. With tears in her eyes, she says, “I can’t believe they’re gone.” She covers her face with her hands. “My heart is breaking… Eria was only seven years old!” Her voice cracks with emotion, and her shoulders shake.

Erik clears his throat, battling the rock-like lump forming there, and nods, not trusting himself to speak.

Terri puts her hand on his and says, “I’m so sorry, Erik.” Without another word, she leaves the rocker, descends the porch steps, and walks back down to the lake.

* * *

Erik stays on the porch as long as he can, but eventually he forces himself back inside just in time for the guests to line up again, this time to say goodbye to Erik and Stephan. After the last guest closes the door behind him with a small wave, Stephan starts cleaning up in the kitchen, throwing glances at Erik nestled deep in the couch facing the blank TV screen. As he wipes the counter in repetitive circles, Stephan accidently bumps the wireless mouse to Erik’s laptop. The screen illuminates and resolves into an article header titled “Reaching the Afterlife,” with a featured image of clouds.

Stephan starts to read the article, only making it to the second paragraph before Erik reaches around him and slams the laptop shut, startling him.

"That’s private!" Erik yells.

“Whoa.” Stephan studies Erik with surprise and concern. "Why are you researching the afterlife?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It’s absolutely my business,” Stephan argues, “because we’re family. You’re my best friend, and I care about you. And if you need help—if you need to talk to someone about how you’re feeling—”

“I’m fine,” Erik says shortly. “Nothing to worry about. I just—” He looks at the floor as he mutters, “It helps me to think about what comes next. Where Kristin and Eria are now.”

Stephan looks at him for a long time. “If you say so,” he finally sighs. “I should go home. It’s been a long day.” 

Erik feels a pang of regret. Stephan has meant so much to him, over the years, and he’s grieving too. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. Thank you for everything. I love you.”

“Love you too, brother.” Stephan pulls Erik into a one-armed hug before heading out the door with a quick goodbye and a promise to talk soon.

Finally alone, Erik rushes to fetch his anniversary gift from Kristin. It’s time. He sits on the couch and opens the card first.

“August 2, 2004: The best day of my life. The last thirteen years have been an amazing journey, and I can’t wait to see what happens next. I am so thankful that I will be spending the rest of my life with you—waking up next to you each morning, watching our daughter grow up, and of course, growing old with you. I love you more than you could possibly know. xoxo ~Kristin”

The tears blur his vision as he gently opens the box to reveal a gold watch with mother-of-pearl inlays. He has to blink his wet eyes several times before he can read the inscription on the back: August 2, 2004.

He thinks about the reading he’s been doing about the afterlife. I’ll see you again. I will.

A few miles away, Stephan walks through the front door of his single-story brick home and immediately powers up his desktop. He types in “Reaching the Afterlife.” He hadn’t managed to memorize the website name before Erik slammed the laptop closed, so it takes him over an hour to find the article his brother-in-law was reading. He starts to skim, and halfway through, a panic grips him. He sprints out of the house and gets back into his car.  

The trees on the side of the road blur as Stephan presses his foot down hard on the gas pedal, his fingers fidgeting on the wheel. The five-minute drive becomes two minutes, and Stephan skids to a stop at the top of Erik’s driveway. Erik’s car is still in its customary spot. Stephan runs into the house, swinging the door open so violently that it bangs into the side table where the family always sat their mail and keys.

“Erik!” he yells. “Erik!”

No response. Stephan checks every room, heart in his throat. No Erik.

He runs back out the front door, frantic, still yelling Erik’s name but getting no answer. He jogs to both ends of the porch and scans the gathering of trees on either side of the driveway. Suddenly, he remembers the headstones and the urns. He changes course, shoes struggling to gain traction in the fallen, brown leaves as he sprints for the lake.

When he crests the hill looking down on the gravesite, he immediately pulls out his cell phone and dials 911.

Chapter 8

August 11th, 2017

Erik’s head feels heavy, as if it were stuffed with lead. He swallows to try and rid himself of the dry cotton sensation on his tongue, but as he does, a horrible pain shoots up his throat. The skin of his esophagus feels like butchered meat, raw and bloody. To top it all off, he registers a dull throbbing in his abdomen, like someone’s pressing into a bruise.

He slowly opens his eyes. He blinks, his surroundings blurry. Disoriented, he takes in the white-walled room, the plain black and white clock over the door, and the thin mattress he’s lying on. Hospital, he thinks. Sure enough, when he looks down at himself he finds he’s dressed in a baby blue hospital gown. A clip attached to a tube squeezes his right index finger. A finger pulse oximeter. The beeping monitor beside him reads fifty beats per minute.

Still groggy, he turns to his other side and is startled to see Stephan sitting in a chair, eyes glued to his cell phone. He hasn’t yet noticed that Erik is awake.

Erik tries to say something to his brother-in-law, but his words come out silent. He’s as dry as a husk. Water. He needs water. A few more blinks and another sweep of the room reveal the tray with a plastic water pitcher and paper cups beside the bed. With an unsteady hand, he reaches out to pour himself a drink.

The movement makes Stephan look up. His eyes widen with relief. “Oh, thank God.” He puts his phone down, rubbing exhaustion from his face with an open hand. “How are you feeling?”

Erik takes a drink of water and cringes. “Throat hurts,” he says, rubbing at it. “Stomach, too.”

“Well, that’s expected when you’ve had ‘gastric lavage,’” says Stephan, unable to mask his irritation. He looks at Erik as if he’s a misbehaving child.

Erik’s eyebrows rise. “Okay, Dr. Johansson. What’s gastric lavage?”

“You had your stomach pumped, Erik.” Stephan is glaring now. “What were you thinking?”

Erik stares at the ceiling. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Stephan grits his teeth and clenches his fists. “I know how painful this must be for you, but you know Kristin wouldn’t want you to take your own life!” He startles himself with the sudden volume of his own voice and glances at the door and nursing station beyond.

Erik shakes his head. “You have no idea how I’m feeling.”

“You’re right. I didn’t lose my wife and daughter. But I did lose my sister and my niece. And regardless, I know that suicide is not the answer.”

“I wanted to see them again,” Erik mutters after a beat.

Stephan slumps back into his chair. “You do realize that if you commit suicide, you will not be in the Kingdom of Heaven with Kristin and Eria?”  

Erik sighs through his nose.

Silence overtakes the room, and Stephan clicks through his phone with purpose. "I want you to come with me to Iceland to visit Mom and Dad. They desperately want to see you, and to hold a service for Kristin and Eria in Iceland, since they couldn't be here yesterday. The flight leaves in two days. Please tell me you’ll go with me?” 

Erik glances sidelong at his persistent brother-in-law. "Fine. I will. But you have to promise me that you won’t mention…” He gulps, and the pain of it is a cringing reminder of what he doesn’t want to talk about. “…this to Hanna and Olafur."  

Stephan nods. “If that’s what you want.” He begins to type on his phone as though he’s booking the second ticket right away. “By the way, before you’re discharged here, you’ll receive a psychiatric evaluation. I’ve already told them that you’ll be staying with me.”

Erik doesn’t say another word. He only watches the second hand on the clock tick, tick, tick the time away.

* * *

The next morning, Erik stares blankly at his reflection in the hospital bathroom mirror. He is a shadow of his former self, with hollow cheeks and dark purple circles under his red-rimmed eyes. He pulls on the pair of jeans and navy polo shirt Stephan brought him from his house to replace the funeral suit the paramedics had taken off in the ambulance and then sits on his bed in silence, waiting to be discharged.

A few hours later, on the car ride to Stephan’s house, Erik watches the cars and trees pass by with no more interest than he devoted to watching the hospital TV on mute earlier. It took very little prompting to convince Erik to stay with Stephan until their flight. He can’t bear the thought of returning home again to face the memories.

Then again, they live so close to each other that this route and this landscape hold their own memories. Meanwhile, the house he and Kristin decorated together still looms large in his mind. There’s no escape.

“Do you need anything from your house?” says Stephan, as if he could read Erik’s thoughts.

Erik peels his eyes from the window slowly, like gum leaving a hot sidewalk on the bottom of a shoe. “Yeah,” he says reluctantly. “Let’s stop by. I need to grab a suitcase and some clothes. I guess I should pack a suit if we’re going to hold a service in Reykjavik.”

The paved driveway is smooth, but Erik’s stomach feels as queasy as if they were bumping along on a back road. And yet, this unease is nothing compared to what comes next.

Walking into the house is like missing a step on a long, steep stairway. His stomach bottoms out as memories flash in front of his eyes. The empty bottle of sleeping pills rests on its side in the kitchen sink. He goes up to the bedroom, still half-wishing the pills had done their job. He packs his suit, a week’s worth of clothes, and his bathroom supplies as quickly as possible, and throws in his laptop at the last minute.

Stephan waits in the foyer while Erik makes sure that all the windows are shut and the doors are locked. He watches Erik closely, as if afraid his brother-in-law will fade away right in front of his eyes. But he doesn’t speak. He lets Erik do what he needs to do.

“Okay,” Erik finally says, and walks out the front door without looking back.

A few minutes later, they pull into the driveway of Stephan’s brand-new single-story brick home. The three-bedroom home is not nearly as large as Erik’s, but it has everything a single person needs. Erik drops off his luggage in the guest bedroom next to the converted office and notices the nicely folded clean towels on the edge of his bed. Erik shakes his head as a smile flickers across his face. Stephan has always been a great host. Apparently, not even a tragedy can change that part of his nature.

Erik moves the towels to the dresser and collapses onto the bed without even turning down the covers. In this unfamiliar room, away from the constant beeping of hospital machinery and in a bed he’s never once shared with the woman he lost, he’s finally able to let his exhaustion overwhelm him. He slips into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

Six hours later, he wakes up feeling restless and ravenous. He makes his way to the kitchen, where Stephan has left him a smoothie in the fridge. As he lets the icy beverage soothe his still-raw throat, Erik idly scrolls through his work emails … all two hundred of them.

What’s the point?

He is deleting emails indiscriminately when he notices a recent one with the subject heading Timothy Claiborne appointment. He decides to open it and finds an automated reminder to schedule the next appointment with volunteer 132.

For the first time since the worst day of his life, Erik’s mind drifts somewhere other than to his wife and daughter. The meeting he’d had with Timothy, about his miraculous healing. That mysterious cave in Iceland. The levitating rocks. Erik suddenly recalls that Timothy had read somewhere that the cave was a portal to the afterlife.

If there’s a way… a way that doesn’t involve trying again…

Erik opens up his web browser and begins to search for information on Timothy’s cave. Soon, he has not only a detailed description of this cave, but also the name and address of a man named Tahoma who can provide a private tour.

This has to be it.

He bookmarks the website and closes his laptop. He finds Stephan in the living room, listening to a voicemail. When Stephan hangs up, Erik asks, “What time is our flight tomorrow?”

“It’s at ten. We should try to leave here by eight.”

Erik scratches his head, feeling strangely reenergized. “See you in the morning,” he says, and retires to the guest room to learn more about Akureyri.

Chapter 9

August 12th, 2017

It’s been thirty-one days since the iceberg rupture in Antarctica. Twenty-four days since the Department of Defense pulled the object carrying the unknown pathogen from the crack in the ice shelf, and twenty-two days since William received the phone call from the DoD where he discovered that all sixteen individuals that directly handled the object contracted an unknown virus.

Nine days ago, William was informed that all sixteen died. Their internal organs liquefied.

Since he received the news, he has gone to work early, skipped lunch, and stayed late into the night. He’s working late now, his office window a bright spot in the dark Atlanta skyline.

It’s too soon to panic, and anyway, William is not a panicking man. That said, everyone knows time is of the essence. The sooner they’re able to determine what kind of a situation they have on their hands, the sooner they can deal with it. A team of top epidemiologists, led by CDC wunderkind Thomas Murphy, has just been dispatched to Antarctica to study the virus. They’re charged with determining how the virus is transmitted and what effects it has on those infected.

How contagious is it? How deadly?

Although William has many questions beyond those vital two, the DoD is extraordinarily tight-lipped. Men with a much higher security clearance than William have informed him, time and again, that his concern is the virus. Only the virus. Not the object that carried it, not the satellite that found that object, and not the classified operation that unearthed the thing. In twenty-two days, William has only been able to wrench one tiny additional piece of information from his DoD contacts: days before the CDC was looped in, the DoD was running tests on individuals demonstrating inexplicable immunities and so-called “miraculous” recoveries.

He wants to know more. Also, following these leads makes him feel like he’s doing everything he possibly can, in the face of this new and as-yet-unquantified threat.

The desk phone rings, and William answers without hesitation. “This is William Frieden at the Centers for Disease Control.”

“Hi. My name is Dr. Stephan Johansson. I received a message requesting a call-back as soon as possible?”

William runs his finger down the list in front of him until he finds the name. Stephan Johansson is an oncologist practicing in Minneapolis. “Yes, thanks so much for getting back to me. I wanted to ask you some questions about a patient of yours who had an unexplained recovery from… I believe it was both cancer and multiple sclerosis?”

“You have to know that I can’t disclose details about a patient’s medical history, even to the CDC. Not without a court order.”

“That won’t be necessary,” William assures the doctor. “Can you tell me, do you know if this patient was recently contacted by the Department of Defense?”

There’s a long pause. “Why would the DoD want to speak with him?”

“They may have been interested in his…” William pauses, clearing his throat. “Unusual medical history. Which I am aware you are not able to discuss with me.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about it. I can ask—” Stephan lowers his voice. “My brother-in-law is also acquainted with the man in question. But now’s really not a good time. We’re in the middle of a family crisis.”

“How soon can you talk to your brother-in-law?” William asks, putting an asterisk by the doctor’s name on his list.

“He and I are leaving the country tomorrow. I’ll try to be in touch when we’re back.”

“Listen, Dr. Johansson—” William begins, but the other man cuts him off.

“Mr. Frieden, I understand that to you, this is urgent, but I just buried my sister and my niece, and my grieving brother-in-law is in no condition to do an interview with the CDC. We’re flying to Iceland tomorrow to be with my father and my mother, who is currently dying of cancer.” Stephan finishes with a clipped, “We’ll be in touch,” and hangs up.

William stares at the phone for a moment before replacing it in its cradle. He moves on to the next name on his list, a reported faith-healing in Alabama. He sighs, wishing he could pawn the job off onto one of his subordinates but aware that everything related to the virus is need-to-know only.

As for Stephan Johansson’s patient: maybe there’s something there, and maybe there isn’t. Honestly, there probably isn’t. But while his epidemiologists are getting set up in Antarctica, and as they begin their careful study of the unknown pathogen, this feels like the least William can do. It certainly can’t hurt.

Still, something tells him that there will be no easy answer to this problem. No silver bullet. In fact, this may become the biggest fight of his life.

Chapter 10

August 13th, 2017

The ticket agent hands Erik his boarding pass and directs him to concourse G. As they walk to their gate, Erik veers toward Arby’s, one of his favorite spots, for an in-flight snack.

Erik looks over at Stephan. “Want anything?”

“Arby’s?” At Erik’s nod, Stephan shakes his head. He’s happy to see Erik taking an interest in something, even if it is fast food, but he’s not hungry. “No, I’m good.”

An hour later, Stephan and Erik flash their first-class, Saga Gold member tickets and board first. Stephan and Kristin’s father, Olafur, was a pilot for Icelandair for over thirty years, only retiring after his wife was diagnosed with cancer. The family hookup has paid off.

The two men take their seats. After accepting his amenities from the flight attendant, Erik checks the time on his golden, engraved anniversary watch. It’s a six-hour flight, and Iceland is six hours ahead of us, he calculates to himself, so we won’t arrive until 10:00 p.m. local time. Might as well do more research on this portal.

He glances inconspicuously at Stephan, who is busy reading a book on his Kindle.

The flight passes in relative silence, with Erik glued to his computer while Stephan shifts between reading and dozing. As soon as they arrive at the Keflavik International Airport in Reykjavik, they make their way to the ground floor and the baggage claim.

Loaded down with their suitcases and backpacks, they head out the main entrance and find Olafur waiting for them. His eyes light up at the sight of them. Behind him, the bright orange glow of the late sunset provides a beautiful backdrop to the distant mountainside.

“Your dad looks amazing for sixty-seven,” Erik tells Stephan as they move down the walkway. “He’s in such great shape.”

Stephan nods with a light grin. “He’ll probably live to be a hundred.” The grin falls off his face abruptly as he remembers that Erik’s parents both died in their mid-sixties. “I’m sorry, I—”

Erik waves away the apology. “Don’t, please.” He looks at Olafur again. “You and your dad look so much alike. You’re both 6’5” and have red hair. It’s funny, you and your dad look alike and Kristin and Hanna look…” Erik bites his tongue before correcting himself, “…looked alike.”

“True… but dad and I are so different. He’s soft-spoken and has such a gentle soul. I, on the other hand, am loud and obnoxious.” Stephan laughs.

Erik joins him, even though laughing still feels more than a little wrong. “True.”

“Boys! My boys.” Olafur is striding toward them.

Stephan drops his luggage to hug his dad. “Hi, Dad.”

With one arm still around Stephan, Olafur reaches out the other to draw in Erik. He holds him a few seconds longer than usual. “It’s so good to see you, Erik. I’m so sorry...”

Erik nods, swallowing hard, unable to form the right words.

Olafur grabs Erik’s suitcase and says, "Let’s get you home. Hanna can’t wait to see you two."

Half an hour later, as they turn onto the street where Olafur and Hanna live, Erik is taken back to all of the trips made to this home over the years. There are so many great memories. He notices the swing still hanging from the large Birch tree in the front yard. It’s the same swing that Kristin and Stephan played on as kids. Hanna left it up for Eria.

The two-story home sits on a large lot dotted with beautiful Birch trees. The white wrap-around porch is nearly identical to the one at Erik’s home in Minnesota—one of the many similarities that had made Kristin fall in love with the place.

The three men don’t even make it to the front door before Hanna comes out onto the porch, her hands flying to cover her mouth at the sight of them. Stephan runs up the steps and wraps his arms around his mother’s skinny frame.

Erik smiles at Hanna, feeling a familiar warmth in his gut. He has always felt especially close to her. Maybe it’s because his own mom passed away years earlier. Or maybe it’s because Hanna reminds him of an older version of Kristin. He’d always assumed Kristin would look just like her mom one day. Even now, with her already slender body diminished by the cancer, he can see his lost wife in Hanna’s high cheekbones, narrow nose, full lips, and gorgeous hazel eyes.

Erik climbs the steps to the porch and hugs Hanna at the top. Tears wet his cheeks as soon as his arms go around her. He had hoped he would be able to fight them off, but he just can’t. Not around Hanna.

“Thank God you’re here with us,” she says into his shoulder.

For a second, Erik wonders if Stephan betrayed the secret of his attempted suicide. No, he doesn’t think his best friend would do that. It’s more likely that her words come from her own pain.

She leads him into the house by the hand, and her touch brings comfort. He’s suddenly happy he decided to visit—and not only because of the cave.

"I’m going to make my boys something to eat.”  

"Mom,” Stephan says, “it’s almost 11:00 p.m.”

“It’s dinnertime in Minnesota, and you’re bound to be hungry after that long trip. It’s really no bother.” She walks into the kitchen. Stephan just shakes his head, smart enough not to argue, and follows her.

Olafur gestures to the old, trusty leather couch in the living room, and Erik takes a seat beside him, hands on knees. Olafur leans against the back, one arm slung over the top, and looks at Erik. "How have you been?"  

"To be honest… this has been the most difficult time in my life. I’m struggling.”

Olafur puffs his cheeks and lets out a heavy breath, nodding. "I’m worried about you and I don't want to see any harm come to you. Kristin would want you to go on with your life,” he says.

Blood rushes to Erik’s face, heating it like a kettle ready to whistle. He narrows his eyes and glares toward the kitchen, wishing his pupils could shoot lasers through the wall and give Stephan a good zap. So much for best-friend secrecy.

He forces a smile for Olafur. “I’ll be fine. I just miss them.”

A few minutes later, Stephan pokes his head in and announces that sandwiches are ready. They all take a seat around the small kitchen table. Erik bores his eyes into the top of Stephan’s head as they bow for a quick prayer.

They make a bit of small talk, but eventually Hanna broaches the subject of why they’re there. “We’ve made arrangements for services on Thursday,” she tells Erik. “The 17th was the only date we could book the church and banquet hall where you and Kristin celebrated your wedding.”

Erik nods. “Thanks for taking care of it.”

“Of course,” Hanna says, voice thick with emotion.

When the sandwiches are little more than a few crumbs on plates, Erik and Stephan rise to help Hanna clean up. Hanna moves slowly, her feet shuffling across the hardwood floor, her breathing becoming labored as her fatigued body begs for rest. Noticing her discomfort, Olafur takes her gently by the elbow to help her to their bedroom. Hanna turns in the doorway to say goodnight to Erik and Stephan.

The two men silently wash and dry the dishes, and then they retreat to the living room with their laptops. Erik steals glances over the top of his screen at Stephan, the anger building. Unable to hold it in any longer, he says though a clenched jaw, “You promised you wouldn’t tell your parents about my… suicide attempt.”  

Stephan’s shoulders droop, and he can’t quite meet Erik’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I had already told them before you woke up in the hospital—before I promised.”

Erik’s expression doesn’t soften. “Why did you lie to me then? Why not tell me the truth?”

“I was worried you wouldn’t come with me, and I really think this trip will be good for you.”

Chewing it over, Erik is reluctant to feel some of his anger seep out through his pores. He takes a deep breath, extinguishing the flame, though hot embers of betrayal still smolder in his gut. “You still should have told me the truth.”

“You’re right… I’m sorry,” Stephan repeats. “How can I make it up to you? What do you need from me?”

It’s the opening Erik has been waiting for. He lowers his eyes to his screen and, as casually as he can, says, “There is somewhere I want to go while we’re here.”

Relief crosses Stephan’s face, and he relaxes into Olafur’s armchair. “Sure, where?”

“It’s a cave in northern Iceland, near Akureyri.”

Stephan’s forehead creases. “Akureyri? That’s in the middle of nowhere. Why would you want to go see a cave up there?”

“Your patient, Timothy Claiborne… you know, the one you referred to participate in the HCP study?”

“Timothy?” Stephan looks startled. “Funny you should mention him…” He fades off, shaking his head.

“What’s funny?” Erik leans forward, trying to contain the urgency in his voice.

“Nothing. Never mind. Go on.”

Erik gives his brother-in-law a sideways look, but continues, “About a year ago, he actually visited this cave in northern Iceland… and he told me it’s supposed to be a portal to the afterlife. He said he saw levitating rocks at the entrance.”

“A portal,” Stephan says slowly, “to the afterlife?” He frowns and his voice takes on a careful pitch, like a fireman talking down a jumper. “Do you really believe him?”

“No…” Erik says, although in truth, he desperately wants to believe that this portal exists. “But I want to check it out. After Timothy visited this cave, he immediately started to heal. I think that’s worth investigating.”

Stephan works his jaw, thinking. “Sure,” he says at last. “We can go after the services on Thursday. Not like I could persuade you otherwise.”

“You’re right,” says Erik, the hint of a smile brightening his face. “You can’t persuade me otherwise—but I’d be glad to have you with me. How long will it take for us to drive there?”

“Why drive, when we can fly?” asks Stephan.

Erik’s stomach sinks. He hates flying in Stephan’s tiny Cessna. His aversion has nothing to do with Stephan’s piloting skills; Stephan grew up flying, taught by his father at a young age, and he is good enough to be licensed in both Iceland and the US. But riding in the small craft makes Erik dizzy and queasy.

Still, it would be quicker than driving. Reluctantly, Erik says, “Sure, I guess. How long is the flight?”

“Forty-five minutes… versus a five-hour drive. I’ll file a flight plan.”

Erik forces a smile. “Okay… thanks, Stephan.”

“Happy to help, Erik,” Stephan says. “Truly.”

Chapter 11

August 17th, 2017

Erik stands in front of a white oval mirror and brushes lint from the lapel of his charcoal gray suit jacket. Every corner, every shelf, every pastel purple wall of the bedroom reflected behind him invokes memories of Kristin. The ceramic lamp on the bedside table, its stand in the form of a ballerina on tiptoe reaching for the bulb, is one of the many tokens of Kristin’s childhood, but the elegant white throw pillows are a newer addition, meant for visits as an adult. The two of them had laid together, heads propped on elbows as they talked, buried among those pillows when they’d visited six months ago.

Erik is dreading the thought of doing all this again—having strangers line up to tell him how sorry they are for his loss—but he knows he needs to be there to support Olafur and Hanna.

Stephan knocks on Erik’s door and asks him if he is ready to go to the church. Erik responds, “Yes, be out in a minute.”

Erik haphazardly runs a comb through his hair, then joins the others in the living room. Olafur and Stephan are both wearing black suits, while Hanna looks elegant in a knee-length black dress with a lace veil covering her face. The black veil triggers something in Erik’s memory: the woman he saw at the airport, the one he’s sure he recognized from somewhere else. Now that he’s thinking about her again, the memory nags at him. It’s a tickle at the back of his mind—

“You look handsome, Erik.” Hanna straightens Erik’s tie and brushes lint from his shoulder, the top half of her face a dark mirage behind the veil.

He manages a smile. “Thanks.”

She taps his wrist. “I’ve been meaning to ask: is that a new watch?”

“It was my anniversary gift from Kristin.”

Hanna sucks in a sharp breath and then pulls a tissue out of her purse. She slips a hand under her veil to wipe away the tears. “It’s beautiful.”

As they pile into Olafur’s Land Cruiser, Erik’s mind drifts to his trip to Akureyri. He flicks his eyes to Stephan sitting beside him, hoping he bought the idea that the whole thing is about unlocking the answer to Timothy Claiborne’s medical mystery.

They pull into an empty parking lot, the first to arrive. With an hour to kill before the service, they walk into the nave of the church, where the ruddy-faced pastor moves in to greet them with the day’s first condolences. When Erik looks at the vaulted ceiling, the elegant buttresses, and the stained glass behind the altar, he can see Kristin in her beaded wedding gown, her train fanned out behind her. He can hear their wedding vows echoing through the pews.

Stephan pats Erik on the shoulder and says, “Sorry… It must be difficult being here, where you were married.”

Erik lets out a shuddering breath. He meets Stephan’s eyes and says, “I’ll be fine.”

By the time the pastor makes his way to the altar, all of the pews are completely full. Several people stand lined against the entry wall, unable to find seats. In the front, right pew, Erik looks over at Hanna and Olafur and notices that they are holding hands. Hanna’s other diminished, bony hand clutches a tissue that she uses to pat away her tears.

Erik turns around and shakes his head at the sight of so many congregating along the walls. There are twice as many people at this service as there were in Minnesota, and yet here, he only recognizes a fraction of the faces.

The pastor draws his attention back by thanking everyone for coming. “We are here to celebrate the lives of Kristin and Eria,” he says, and Erik winces—the words are like an echo from the past. The same words were spoken at his mom’s funeral.

Erik powers through the eulogy by staring at his hands and trying to anticipate the trip to Akureyri, to imagine what a gateway to the afterlife truly looks like. Will he be able to see the levitating boulders? Will there be anything else supernatural about the place? He can imagine how Hollywood would depict such a portal: a shimmering in the air, a wavering quality to the darkness inside the cave, a hush in the surrounding woods, like the animals are attuned to some wavelength that the human visitors are not. But who’s to say movies are anything like real life?

Is the gateway even real? Erik wants it to be. He’s almost sure it is. Grief and hope swirl together into a convincing cocktail.

When the pastor asks if there are any guests that would like to come up to the altar to share fond memories of Kristin and Eria, Erik perks up. He watches several people make their way up the nave. One by one, they take the microphone. Most are friends with Olafur and Hanna, remembering the child they watched grow into a young woman. But three of Kristin’s friends from compulsory school, Iceland’s version of high school, step up to recount tales of Kristin’s well-earned popularity and the acts of her kind heart. One calls her a magnet, drawing in people of all sorts with her energy, her empathy, and her exceptional beauty.

The last of the three friends shares a story that touches everyone. Jon is a short man, his face open and rounded, a sweet depiction of his disability. A wide smile lights his face as he recounts one of the happiest days of his life. The details come alive as he shares them, and Erik can see the scene as clearly as if he were also there.

He sees Jon laboring for hours in his bedroom, bent over a poster board sign that reads: Kristin, will you go to the dance with me? Erik pictures Jon walking around school at lunch, headed for the cafeteria toting the sign. He imagines frowning at the large gaggle of students who trail behind, pointing and laughing. He watches with bated breath as Jon spots Kristin sitting with her friends and his hands begin to shake, making his poster board slip through his fingers twice. He hears the renewed snickers.

Erik can see a teenaged Kristin perfectly in his mind’s eye, front and center, glowing like an angel, her head turning to smile at Jon as he approaches. He sees her lush lips pulled down in a frown at her giggling friends, silencing them with a glare before returning kind eyes on the boy and his sign.

Jon had stood in front of Kristin with his head down, trying his best to gather the courage to ask her to the school dance. He’d taken a deep breath and exhaled. “Kristin, would… would you…” the boy had stuttered, but before he could finish, she had stood up and given him a big hug, saying loud enough for all the students to hear, “Yes, I would love to be your date.” The cafeteria had clapped.

The man’s eyes fill with tears now as he says it was the… second happiest moment of his life, the first being when she’d actually danced with him.

Kristin never mentioned this story to Erik, and hearing it brings a fresh flood of tears. Not only because the memory reinforces how special Kristin was, how pure her heart had truly been. Erik knew that already. But as Jon returns to his pew, Erik is floored to realize how many stories she’ll never get to tell him. He knew her so well, and yet he didn’t know everything. He always thought they’d have a lifetime to get closer and closer. Knowing they don’t… hurts. Everywhere. At the same time, to learn something new about his wife, after her death, is a joy and a blessing. He’s grateful to Jon, and he tries to cling to his gratitude as the tears slowly dry.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Erik feels lighter as he makes his way into his in-laws’ kitchen, his suit exchanged for a polo shirt and jeans. He drops his backpack into a chair and stuffs two water bottles in the mesh sides. At the counter, Hanna is piling ham and cheese onto lightly toasted bread.

“For your trip,” she says with a smile when she catches him drooling over the sandwich.

“Maybe I should go with you, if sandwiches are included,” Olafur pipes up from his seat at the table.

Stephan enters in jeans and a t-shirt, and Olafur beckons him into a hug.

“Have a safe trip,” he says, patting his son’s back.

Hanna moves in for a hug of her own and then turns to Erik with arms open. “When do you think you’ll be back?”

Stephan scratches his chin. “Sunday… at the latest.” He picks up his backpack and turns toward the front door.

Hanna grabs his arm. Her lips brush his ear as she whispers, “Be safe.”

He flashes her a reassuring smile as he nods, but his eyes are on Erik.

They throw their backpacks in the back seat of Hanna’s car and drive to the Reykjavik airport.

As soon as they arrive, Stephan checks the logbooks and weather outlook, Erik is hanging back and taking in the small Cessna T206H. He thinks to himself that it looks like an awkward baby goose. The top and bottom are painted sky blue, leaving a white, wavy strip in the middle. When the plane’s fuel, weight and balance calculations have been completed, Stephan waves at Erik to follow him onboard before using the grips on the double doors to hoist himself inside the cabin.

Erik jiggles his knee nervously in the copilot seat while Stephan performs his pre-flight check. As they wait to be cleared for takeoff, Erik wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. He can feel his pulse quicken as a bored voice crackles over the radio. “You are cleared for take-off.” His stomach lurches, and he groans quietly.

Stephan looks over at Erik and chuckles. “Relax,” he says, gripping Erik’s shoulder and giving it a friendly shake. “You’re in good hands. I’ve never once been in an accident.”

Erik glares at Stephan. “That’s not funny.”

“Trust me,” Stephan says, giving his best friend a sympathetic look. “I know what I’m doing.” He takes the small plane down the runway. As it slowly lifts off the ground, Erik grips the side of his seat and closes his eyes.

Once the plane reaches eight thousand feet and he can feel the wings level out, Erik looks out the window and notices the amazing view of the Iceland landscape—waterfalls, volcanoes, and hot springs reduced to glittering snakes and obsidian flowers amid a blanket of greenery.

After a short forty-five–minute flight, they land at the Akureyri airport and pick up their rental car. It’s a little after 7 p.m. when they finally arrive at their hotel.

The hotel clerk, a petite woman with wild red hair tied back with a scarf, hands them a chunky brass key for their room and chuckles at their shocked expressions. “No fancy plastic cards here, boys,” she says.

In fact, nothing about the place is remotely fancy. Their room’s most prominent feature is the dark, dingy brown carpet, and a worrisome, circular black stain in the far corner. Two twin beds and a small projection tube television sitting on a nightstand are the only amenities. The room is freezing, and when Stephan kicks on the heater, it groans like a milk cow and sends a musty smell into the air. The scent makes Erik think of his and Kristin’s crappy first apartment, and just like that, he misses her so much it takes his breath away.

He turns so that Stephan doesn’t see him clutch his chest. “Let’s go straight to Tahoma’s place,” he says, voice tight. “We can eat afterwards.”

“If that’s what you want to do…” Stephan replies, his tone wary. On the drive to the hotel, Erik explained that Tahoma is the tour guide who runs the website that he found, describing the cave. Stephan mostly grunted through the whole tale, and Erik got the distinct impression he thinks Tahoma is a scam artist. But because the website lists an address, but no phone number, they have no choice but to drive there and inquire about setting up a tour in person.

“It is what I want to do,” Erik says firmly, and grabs his backpack. Stephan follows him out the door.

A map from the hotel clerk leads them down a short dirt drive, and then to a tiny red home. Stephan parks, skepticism in every line of his face, and says, “Are you sure you have the correct address? This is just a house.”

Erik eyes the house through slitted eyes. “This is the address on the website.”

Stephan exhales through pursed lips, making a sound like a horse. “Okay.”

They walk up to the little single-story number, painted bright red from its brick foundations to its tin roof, and knock on the front door.

A woman in her thirties answers. “Can I help you?” she barks, positioning her body as if to bar the door.

Erik, who had expected to be invited in, stutters a moment, trying to figure out how to start his request. “Uh… well… we’re looking for a man named Tahoma. We were told he lives here.”

She tilts her head. “How do you know Tahoma?”  

Erik stares at the woman’s nose ring and at her multi-dimensional hair, streaked with strands of blue and purple. "His contact information was on the website.”

“Website?” Her eyebrow arches. “What website?”

Erik’s forehead creases. “There’s a website with Tahoma’s name and this address…” He clears his throat before continuing, “And pictures of the cave with levitating boulders.”

“The cave with what? What are you talking about? What is your business with Tahoma?"

Worried he has the wrong house, but desperate to get some answers, Erik plows on. “I lost my wife and child recently—his sister and niece”—he points at Stephan, who is standing behind him, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else—“and I was hoping Tahoma could take us to this cave.”

The woman has clearly had enough. She leans back into the house to yell, “Uriel! There’s someone here that wants to speak with your dad!”

A short, thin man, about the same age as the woman, brushes his long, black hair from his face as he comes to the door. His short-sleeved white shirt does little to hide the tattoos covering his arms and neck. “Can I help you with something?” he asks as the woman walks back into the living room.

"We’re looking for Tahoma. I was hoping to visit the cave with the levitating boulders.”

Uriel looks Erik over, sizing him up. He nods his head slowly and says, “Tahoma was my father, but he passed away last year.”

Erik’s gut drops. All this way for nothing. He runs a hand over his face and shakes his head. As a last resort, he asks, "Did your father ever mention the cave with the levitating boulders?"

“Sure,” Uriel says cautiously.

A small spark of hope relieves some of the pressure in Erik’s pounding head. "Do you know how to get to this place?”

“I do, but it’s an eight-hour hike from here. You can’t drive there.”

Stephan groans loudly.

Erik elbows Stephan, eyes on Uriel. “Ignore him.” He flicks a thumb at Stephan. “Can you take us there?”

“No, I have to work tomorrow.”

“Fifteen-thousand Krona,” Erik says immediately, ignoring Stephan’s look of alarm. “I’ll give you fifteen-thousand Krona if you ditch work and take us there tomorrow.” He doesn’t know the current exchange rate off the top of his head, but that should be more than a hundred US dollars. He hopes Uriel doesn’t have a job that pays more than that.

Uriel narrows his eyes, but after studying Erik’s face, a grin brightens his expression and he nods in agreement. “Okay, make sure you’re here at my house tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m. sharp with your hiking gear. We’ll have to camp overnight, since we can’t make the round trip in one day. I have tents but be sure to bring warm clothes. It can get cold at night.”

“Thanks,” Erik says, so relieved he feels as though he might cry. He manages to hold himself together. “We’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

* * *

Before returning to their hotel, Stephan and Erik decide to stop for a late dinner at one of the local diners. They eat in an uncomfortable silence, made all the more awkward by the fact that the two men have been at ease around each other practically since the moment they met. Stephan is stewing, and Erik doesn’t want to say anything to make his brother-in-law abandon this trip, so the silence grows.

After dinner, a gift shop full of local souvenirs catches Stephan’s eye as they head down the sidewalk on the way to their car. “Let’s check it out,” he says.

Erik is relieved that Stephan isn’t barraging him with questions or pointing out all of the worrisome things Erik has done today—visiting strange homes and throwing money at strange expeditions with potentially untrustworthy strangers. He lets Stephan lead him inside the shop. Stephan stops at the lava stones on display—porous, jet black rocks formed by the volcanos on the island. He picks several up, one after another, and turns them over and over in his hand.

“Are you planning to buy a lava stone?” Erik finally asks.

Stephan shrugs. “Maybe. It is my dad’s birthday in a couple of days.”

Erik shakes his head as the memory of Stephan’s package of gifts arriving in St. John slams into him. “You never forget a birthday.” Reeling a bit, Erik leaves Stephan behind to do his birthday shopping and walks down the street to a small market to pick up a few things for their journey tomorrow.

An hour later, they are both back in the hotel room. Stephan turns on the TV while Erik pulls out his laptop and decides to surf the internet. He returns to the site where he found Tahoma’s information. He reads and rereads until he feels as though he might burst with questions. “What do you think the odds are, that the boulders actually levitate?” he asks Stephan.

Stephan looks over at Erik and mutes the TV. Erik waits for his best friend to find words, but in the end, Stephan just shakes his head.

Chapter 12

August 18th, 2017

Erik looks at his watch, making sure it’s precisely 10:00 a.m. before he knocks on Uriel’s red front door. Erik’s knuckles have barely left the wood before Uriel answers, his hair in a ponytail and a light jacket covering his tattoos.

“You ready?” asks Uriel.

Erik nods enthusiastically, and Stephan mumbles, “I guess.”

“Great… let’s get going.” Uriel locks the front door and then leads them around the little red house and across the backyard, heading south-east. The conditions are perfect for hiking. The temperature is a cool forty-eight degrees, and the terrain is mercifully flat.

Erik looks over at Stephan and smiles, knowing full well that he’s only along for the trip because he’s scared to leave Erik alone. Stephan doesn’t smile back, but he nods at Erik as if to say, I’m not going anywhere.

A four-hour trek brings them to a roaring white waterfall set in a moss-covered cliff, and they decide to rest with its cool, misty spray on their sweaty faces. Erik and Stephan lean against a boulder, snacking on packaged crackers while they watch the fall fill a pool below and create rapids in the connecting stream. The sound of the water crashing against the rocks makes it difficult to hold a conversation. After Erik takes a sip from his water bottle, he raises his voice to say, “This view is incredible.”

Stephan shouts back, “I’ve never been to this part of the island before. I agree… it’s beautiful.”

Uriel walks over to the two men and says, “We’re at the halfway point so we should arrive around six.”

Stephan raises his water bottle in a salute.

With snack bags crumpled in their packs and Uriel back at the head of the party, they start hiking again. Within an hour, they reach the first of several small hills, and Erik and Stephan begin to huff and puff, their calves burning and lungs protesting. They’re both in good shape, but thanks to their hectic work schedules, they’re unused to such prolonged exercise. Uriel pulls far ahead, oblivious to the fact that his customers aren’t blessed with his lean, bikers’ leg muscles.

Three hours later, Uriel at last points ahead at an almost perfectly circular cave mouth carved into the base of a rocky crag. Erik sends up a whoop of triumph and picks up the pace. When they reach the cave entrance, Stephan drops his backpack and collapses in complete exhaustion. Uriel starts to unpack and set up his tent, but Erik is eager to get inside and see the levitating boulders at the entrance to this gateway.

Erik leans back to try and take in the full height of the mountain and nearly cricks his neck. Two large boulders flank the cave entrance like rounded doors, with smaller boulders scattered around them like children. It looks just like the pictures on the website—but the boulders sit securely on the ground.

Wondering what might make the boulders rise into the air, Erik strides forward. After a moment, Stephan stands and follows him into the cave. Immediately, the men’s jaws drop. Stephan runs a hand along the silky-smooth wall. The sunlight filtering through the opening reveals a deep gray, smooth rock that holds a burnt-orange tint if the men shift their heads from side to side. These lava tubes were formed thousands of years ago by vitrified magma and basalt. Stalagmites and stalactites cut the tunnel into segments, jutting up from the floor and dangling like fat icicles from the ceiling. A soft dripping echoes throughout the dark, damp cave. The moisture and dirt mingle to create a musty smell that reminds Erik of their hotel room.

He pushes the association, and the painful memories that come with it, aside and tries to focus on the present.

Uriel catches up to the two men, and Erik asks him, voice echoing in the hollow space, "Have you ever seen the stones levitate?" 

"Yes,” Uriel says, after a pause. “Once, when I was a teenager.”

“What happened?”

“It was strange… the boulders were floating a few feet off the ground, while this older woman stood right there.” Uriel points to the entrance. “She passed out, and when she woke up… she didn’t remember a thing.”

“But you remembered,” Erik points out. “Why?”

Uriel shrugs.

“It’s real.” Erik’s smile is manic, tugging at his cheeks. “I can’t believe it’s real.” He looks to Stephan, but his brother-in-law just rolls his eyes. “Can I look around?” Erik asks Uriel.

“Of course.” Uriel hands Erik a flashlight.

A few hours pass in the blink of an eye. The sun has already begun its descent when Erik is forced to join the others in setting up their tents and making a fire.

When the fire is at last crackling and burning strong, sending tendrils of smoke into the crystal-clear night sky dotted with stars, Uriel regales Stephan and Erik with tales of other portals on Earth. “It is believed that there are thirteen gateways on Earth. One of them, in Ireland, is called St. Patrick's purgatory. It’s considered the gateway to hell.”

“That doesn’t sound very pleasant,” Erik muses.

“We have our own gateway to hell here in Iceland,” Uriel laughs. “About six hundred miles from here, there is a volcano called Mt. Hekla. In Benedeit's 1120 Anglo-Norman poem, ‘Voyage of St. Brendan,’ it mentions Mt. Hekla as the prison of Judas, the apostle who betrayed Jesus. That reputation continued with further eruptions; after the 1341 eruption, there was a report that sailors saw birds flying by the lava. They thought they were swarming souls.”

Stephan chuckles and shakes his head. "I’ve heard people talk about Mt. Hekla. It’s folklore.” He stands up and looks over at Erik. “I’m going to get some sleep. See you in the morning."

Stephan climbs into his tent, but Uriel and Erik decide to stay up a little longer.

"Tell me again how you found my dad’s contact information?” asks Uriel.

“It was on your dad’s website.”

“His website?” Uriel’s laugh is incredulous. “My dad didn’t have a website.”

“I was looking at it yesterday… there’s a picture of that cave.” Erik points to the entrance. “It had his address—your address—listed to schedule tours.”

“My dad hated technology,” Uriel says firmly. “Besides… he would never have taken a picture of the cave, let alone posted it on a website. He would have considered it sacrilegious.”

Erik pulls out his phone. “I’ll show you.” He immediately sees that he has no reception. “Damn… I guess I’ll have to show you when we get back.”

Uriel scratches at his five o’clock shadow, concern darkening his deep-set eyes. “Now that I think of it, you’re not the first person to mention a website. I met a man last year that said the same thing.”

Erik’s eyes go wide. “Really? Was his name Timothy?”

Uriel nods. “How did you know?”

“He’s a volunteer for a study I’m doing. He’s the one who told me about this cave.”

Uriel nods. “And then you went online to learn more. That makes sense… even if my father creating a website doesn’t.”

Erik takes a drink of water, then looks over at Uriel. “Did you see Timothy enter the portal? Were the boulders levitating?”

“I didn’t see him, no. And he never let on to me that he’d seen anything at all.”

“That’s strange,” Erik says. “He told me that he saw the boulders levitating.”

Uriel just shrugs and pokes at the fire with the stick he has been holding.

“So… why did your dad feel it was sacrilegious to take a picture of the cave?”

Uriel flicks his eyes up from the fire. “My dad was a very… spiritual man. He believed that… we are one… connected with the earth. He thought the cave was a gateway to the spirits.”

“The spirits?” Erik furrows his brows. “Was your dad Native American?”

“Yeah… He was Navajo.”

Erik tilts his head. “I hope it’s all right for me to say that… well, you look Asian.”

Uriel smiles to show that he hasn’t taken offense. “My mom was Korean.”

“How is it that a Native American decided to live in northern Iceland?”

“My dad grew up in Phoenix, Arizona. The day he turned eighteen, he enlisted in the army. He felt it was his duty to serve his country.” Uriel pauses for a moment. “He wanted to be a pilot. He loved the idea of soaring above the clouds, like an eagle.”

The wind shifts, sending a plume of smoke into Erik’s face. He coughs and waves it away from his eyes as he says, “If he wanted to be a pilot, then why did he enlist in the Army? Why didn’t he enlist in the Air Force or Navy?”

“The Department of the Air Force didn’t exist back then. It wasn’t a separate branch of the armed services until 1947. Before that, it was called the US Army Air Forces. It was a combat arm of the Army.”

“1947?” Erik’s eyes go wide. “How old was your dad when he passed away?”

Uriel looks up at the sky. “He was ninety.”

“Ninety? Wow… Wait. How old are you?”

“I’m fifty-one.”

Erik’s jaw drops. “That’s amazing. You look like you’re in your thirties.”

Uriel grins. “Thanks.”

“So, did your dad serve in World War II?”

Uriel nods. “Yes, but only for a year. He didn’t turn eighteen until 1944.”

“That still doesn’t explain how he ended up in Iceland.”

“He was stationed in Reykjavik in 1944. The army actually built the Keflavik airport in 1942 to use as a refueling point for aircraft delivery and cargo flights. It was a very strategic location during the war.”

Erik purses his lips and nods, intrigued. “I had no idea.”

Uriel continues, “Although he was only stationed here for a year, he fell in love with the natural beauty of this island. Especially northern Iceland, where he could see the northern lights. My dad didn’t believe in science.” At Erik’s surprised look, he clarifies, “You and I know that the Aurora Borealis is the result of collisions between gaseous particles in the Earth’s atmosphere, with charged particles released from the sun’s atmosphere. But Dad felt that a phenomenon like that was more spiritual than scientific. This place…” Uriel looks around. “It called to him.”

“Your knowledge of the northern lights… It’s impressive.” Erik watches the fire as it crackles and pops. “So how did he meet your mom?”

“After the war, he became a pilot and was later stationed in Korea. In fact, he flew missions during the Korean Conflict from 1951 through 1953. That’s when he met my mom.” He stares at the fire, lost in thought. “After Korea, he was stationed at Mather Air Force base in California. We lived there until he retired in 1974. I was eight when we moved from the US to Iceland.”

“Was your mom okay with moving to Iceland?”

Uriel shakes his head. “No, she hated it here. My sister hated it even more.”

Erik leans forward. “You have a sister?”

“Yes, but I never see her. The day she turned eighteen, she left home. She came back for my dad’s services when he passed away, but I haven’t seen her since.”

“Where is she now?”

Uriel sighs and watches the hypnotic dance of the fire. “She’s living in Paris.”

“What happened to your mom?”

“She passed away a year after we moved here.”

Erik blinks. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah… so my dad basically raised us. He didn’t believe in technology, so we didn’t have a TV or a radio growing up. He thought we should be more in tune with nature. My sister…” He shakes his head and smiles. “…she hated him.”

“That’s too bad. Even though I’m a scientist, I can see the appeal of living a life like that. Untethered to technology.” Erik is quiet for a moment. “Do you share your father’s beliefs?”

Uriel scrunches his face. “Yes… to a certain degree.” He stares at Erik for a moment before inquiring, “Do you mind me asking you… what you’re hoping to find in this gateway?"

Erik looks in the direction of the cave. “I’m not sure. I hope...” He fades off, unable or unwilling to verbalize the rest of that sentence.

But Uriel doesn’t let him off the hook. “What are you hoping for?”

Erik looks up at the sky. He takes several deep, calming breaths. Finally, he murmurs, “To see them again.”

Uriel scratches the back of his head. “My father once said that the people that enter the gateway seek closure. A chance to say goodbye.”

Erik knows that he should feel comforted by that. He’s not alone. Other people have made this same pilgrimage. But the words still ring hollow. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. He wants to say so much more.

* * *

Around midnight, Uriel retreats into his tent, stifling a yawn as he goes. Erik is left staring between the stars and the dark cave entrance, praying for a miracle. He strains his eyes trying to make out the boulders’ shapes in the dim glow of the firelight. They are still nothing but lifeless rocks at the mercy of gravity.

Hours pass. Erik’s eyelids—and his spirits—begin to droop.

I can’t believe I dragged Stephan out here, to the middle of nowhere, hoping to see some boulders levitating.   

He taps down the last tiny flames in the hot embers, covering them with handfuls of dirt, and then heads for his tent. He doesn’t want to give up hope, but this is starting to seem like such a waste of time. On hands and knees in front of the orange nylon tent’s zippered opening, he takes one last look up at the stars, as if they might spell out answers. A soft gasp escapes his lips. Looping and waving between the stars are vibrant trails of purple, green, and pink. The northern lights. How odd to see them in August.

Could this be a sign?

A buzzing catches his attention. He swivels his head, searching for the source. He decides to wake Stephan, but before he can crawl the few feet to Stephan’s neighboring tent, the buzzing reaches a new pitch, incessant and gnawing at his brain. Erik stands up and turns toward the cave, like a marionette at the mercy of a puppet master. As he gets closer, he is certain the noise is coming from the circular cave mouth, and his heart starts to race. He squints through the dark and nearly drops to his knees. The two giant boulders flanking the entrance are hovering five feet above the ground, their smaller counterparts orbiting around them.

Erik chokes out a giddy laugh and sprints toward the cave, heart pumping as fast as a hummingbird’s wing, making him feel slightly queasy.

He skids to a halt between the levitating boulders. He reaches out with a shaking hand to touch them and then draws back, worried he’ll break the spell. What he’s seeing completely defies logic and science. It flies in the face of everything he’s ever stood for or studied. But he couldn’t care less. The cave mouth is lit by a fuzzy gray light that washes out his skin. He looks back at Stephan’s tent, but the light draws him back.

What if the gateway closes before I can wake him? Can’t risk it.

He spins on the spot, taking it all in, the wonder of it. Hope swells in his chest. It’s all real, everything extraordinary that he’s been told about this place, and that means …

Erik steps further into the light.

Chapter 13

Erik wakes to the sound of Stephan shouting his name: “Erik! Erik, wake up!”

“I—” Erik blinks a couple of times, disoriented. “I’m awake.”

Stephan is on his knees beside Erik, who is sprawled on the ground in front of the cave’s entrance. Uriel stands behind Stephan, wearing a concerned frown.

“Are you all right?” Stephan loops Erik’s arm over his shoulder and helps him to his feet.

Erik turns his eyes toward the cave, where the stones are once again planted firmly on the ground. “I’m fine.” He shakes his head to clear the fog from his brain. “I must have passed out. How many hours was I out?”

Stephan pulls a puzzled face and says, “You were only out for a few seconds. When I unzipped my tent, I saw you standing at the cave entrance… and then you fell to the ground. I ran over to see if you were alright.”

“Really?” Erik looks at his surroundings. The sky is still black. The stars are still bright. “It felt like… hours.” He scratches his head and finds his hair is damp with sweat. “Did you see the stones levitating?”

Stephan shares a look with Uriel. “No, Erik… the stones weren’t levitating.”

Erik grits his teeth and glares at Stephan. “I don’t understand. If you saw me standing at the entrance just now, and I could see the stones floating, then you had to have seen them too!”

Stephan shakes his head and says, “I’m sorry. I saw you fall to the ground. That’s it.”

Erik steadies himself. He brushes past Stephan and Uriel with a scowl, retreating into his tent. He doesn’t look back.

* * *

Erik wakes to the smell of dew-laden morning air tinged with the acrid scent of smoke from the campfire. He unzips his tent and silently takes a seat by the fire, where Uriel is cooking something in a tin can nestled in the embers. He looks up at the sky and can see the sun rising above the distant mountain.

“How did you sleep, Erik?” asked Uriel.

“Not well.” Erik stares sullenly at the fire.

“Did you want to head back today?”

Erik nods, rubbing at the scratchy beard forming on his jaw. “There’s no point in staying here any longer. I obviously didn’t enter a gateway. In fact, maybe I didn’t see anything at all. Maybe I was sleep-walking.” Erik shakes his head and throws a stick at the fire.

The other man doesn’t flinch at Erik’s harsh tone. “I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for.”

As soon as Stephan wakes up and they scarf down the beans and jerky from Uriel’s supplies, they pack up and hike back to Akureyri. After a brief goodbye and an informal exchange of money, they thank Uriel and head back to the hotel, reaching their destination by early afternoon. They check out and drive back to the airport to drop off the rental car. Stephan is keeping silent about the boulders and Erik’s fainting spell, and Erik is not offering any insight.

They have to spend a few hours at the airport before they are cleared for takeoff. Erik groans at the delay, eager to put the whole episode behind him as soon as possible. But Stephan coaxes him into buying some sandwiches and whiling away the time with casual, mindless conversation about sports and the weather.

Erik and Stephan don’t arrive in Reykjavik until 5:00 p.m. They fall silent again on the drive back to Olafur and Hanna’s house, all gateway-free conversation expended. As soon as they walk through the front door, Olafur greets them with open arms and questions about how the trip went.

Erik skirts past Olafur, not wanting to look his father-in-law in the eye as he says, “It was a waste of time.” He goes straight upstairs and shuts his door.

* * *

The first thing he does is book a return flight to the US, departing tomorrow.

I’m leaving a week early, but they’ll understand, he rationalizes to himself. Especially if I tell them that I’m ready to go back to work. They don’t need to know the truth.

Erik runs a hand over the comforter of Kristin’s childhood bed, trying to feel her presence, some leftover bit of her soul. He looks over at the dresser and sees a picture of Kristin with her high school buddies. He picks it up and studies it, tracing a finger over Kristin’s beaming face.

It won’t be long.

He puts the photo back on the dresser and walks downstairs. He greets Olafur with an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry for being so rude. I’m just disappointed.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Olafur says gently.

“Thanks.” Erik hesitates, and then decides to deliver the bad news all at once. “I was able to book a last-minute flight back to the US tomorrow. I need to get back to work, and to get on with my life.”

Stephan gives Erik a curious look, but says, “I’m so glad to hear you say that, Erik.”

Hanna walks into the room, dismay written across her face. “What’s this I hear? You’re leaving us already?”

Erik hugs Hanna and says, “Yes, I’m flying back tomorrow.”

She takes Erik’s hand, looking searchingly into his eyes. “I wish you could stay longer, but if you feel that it’s best for you to get back to your routine, I understand.”

“I can go with you,” Stephan says. “What’s your flight number?”

“No, no. I’ll be fine.” Erik forces a smile. “Really, Stephan. You’ve done so much for me already. Stay with your family.”

“You’re my family too, you know,” Stephan grumbles. When Erik doesn’t relent, he goes on, “At least let me drive you to the airport?”

“Sounds good, thanks,” Erik says, even though he’d been hoping to call a cab.

He lingers in his in-laws’ company in the living room as long as he can manage, but retreats to his room before dinner, shutting himself away with his thoughts.

The next morning, as Erik stands in the entryway, waiting on Stephan, Hanna shuffles in for a farewell hug. Erik returns her gentle squeeze with tears in his eyes, trying to say what he can’t speak in the pressure of his arms, the warmth of his body, and the touch of his cheek against her hair. He can feel the frailty in her bones and knows that this will be the last time he sees her alive.

Another loss. So much loss.

Blinking away tears, he slaps Olafur’s back in a strong embrace and then heads out with Stephan.

At the airport, Stephan walks Erik to the ticket counter where he checks his bag and gets his boarding pass. Before he reaches the line for airport security, Erik gives Stephan a hug.

Stephan returns the hug with a fierce squeeze. “I’m going to miss you, Erik,” he says. “But I’m so glad you’re ready to start working again… to get on with your life.” His keen gaze in that moment is so much like his mother’s that Erik has to look away.

“I am,” he murmurs. “Life goes on.”

“By the way,” Stephan says, on a slightly ragged inhale, “happy birthday, Erik.” He hands Erik a present in a small red bag with crumpled white paper poking out the top like a withering flower. “This is a little something to remind you of our journey. You can open it on the plane.”

“Thanks, but my birthday is June 21st.” Erik narrows his eyes and tilts his head. “You know that, because you always remember a birthday. In fact, you got me that Oliver Sacks book, remember?”

Stephan gives Erik a wistful smile but doesn’t respond.

Erik narrows his eyes at Stephan. “Goodbye,” Erik says, and the two men exchange one more hug before Erik heads for airport security.

On the flight back to Minneapolis, Erik watches the video of Eria in St. John on repeat, drinking in the way her hair falls in front of her beautiful face, trying not to cry at the sound of her voice. Sniffing back his sorrow, he picks up the present on his tray table.

He digs into the bag and pulls out a pitch-black lava stone. He turns it over and sees an engraving that reads, ‘Happy Birthday.’ It brings a smile to his forlorn face, and a pang of regret shoots through his chest for lying to Stephan about moving on with his life.

* * *

At the baggage claim, Erik’s mind drifts again to the woman in black. He scans the room. No sign of her today.

The carousel starts up, and Erik’s suitcase is among the first to arrive. He grabs it and heads for the escalator—and freezes.

There she is.

The woman in black stands stoically at the top of the escalator. People brush by her, barely missing her and making her long dress shift around her ankles. Erik can’t see her eyes behind the veil, but once again, he is certain that she’s staring at him.

Why is she here? Does she know him? How? And what does she want from him?

He takes a step forward, determined to confront her, and then is hit with a memory so strong and so strange that it almost bowls him over. This woman… he remembers her from…

His mother’s funeral. That’s it. He talked to her at his mother’s funeral. He still remembers their conversation.

Except she hadn’t really been there. He’d had a temporary break with reality.

Which means I must be hallucinating now. Right?

Staggering slightly, Erik pulls out his cell phone and starts to record the woman in black. Pulling his suitcase behind him in one hand and raising the phone up with the other, he heads for the escalator.

A young man in a beanie starts to pass by Erik, and he nudges the man with an elbow. The man looks back, annoyed, and Erik asks, “Sorry, but do you see that woman at the top of the escalator. The one in the black veil?”

The man glances at the escalator and then gives Erik a strange look. “Dude, are you high?” He rushes forward at a fast clip, trying to put distance between them.

Erik is jostled by another man to his right and fumbles his phone. When he looks back toward the woman in black, she’s gone. He hauls his suitcase onto the escalator, and at the top, he looks around for a black dress in the crowd, but the woman is nowhere in sight.

Heart pounding, he steps to one side of the terminal and plays back the video. He watches it once, twice, three times, and each time there she is, standing like a statue, head pointed toward him. He can almost feel her stern gaze through the screen.

I guess I’m not hallucinating after all.

Chapter 14

Erik’s taxi pulls into the long, maple-lined driveway that leads to his house. He gets out and pays the driver. As the car drives off, crushing loneliness settles into Erik’s bones, making him feel heavy. He stares at the front door, knowing that when he opens it, no one will greet him.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. It’s not until he puts a foot on the first porch step that he notices the front window is open.

He’s positive that he shut all the windows and locked the front door before he left. As he reaches into his pocket for his cell phone, he hears a noise from inside. It sounds like dishes clanking. He braces himself to confront the intruder, hovering his thumb over the button to call 9-1-1.

Cautiously, he turns the knob and finds it unlocked. He cracks the door. The smell of cooking fish greets his nostrils. His first response is utter confusion. Why would someone break into my house to cook fish? He quietly makes his way to the kitchen. As he turns the corner, his heart nearly stops.

“Hi sweetie,” Kristin says calmly, turning from the stove with a smile on her face and a spatula in her hand. “How was your trip?”

Erik doesn’t know whether to burst with joy or drop to his knees and shrivel up. He can’t move. Can’t breathe. He can only stare.

He saw the paramedics wheeling his wife’s lifeless body away from the mangled rental car. He identified her at the morgue. Her ashes are in the urn by the lake, along with their daughter’s.

This can’t be happening.

“Erik, are you okay?” Kristin steps toward him, brows furrowing with concern.

He finally remembers how to breathe. And then he’s hyperventilating. He gasps like a drowning man breaching the surface. He dissolves into sobs, struggling to remain upright. He stumbles to Kristin and throws his arms around her. She looks up at him from the circle of his arms. Before she can open her mouth, he kisses her hard, his hand resting against her soft cheek.

"What’s wrong?” asks Kristin when he pulls himself back.

With tears in his eyes, he says, "I thought you died in a car accident.”

Kristin eyes go wide. "Why would you think that?"

Before Erik can answer, he hears Eria yell out, “Daddy, I missed you!” She runs into the kitchen and he bends down with open arms, snatching her up and spinning her around, her legs flying through the air. He crushes her in a hug as the tears soak his cheeks. “I missed you too. I can’t believe you’re both here with me.”

Kristin is still giving him a funny look. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asks. “You need to pull yourself together. We’re having two special guests over for the birthday celebration.”

Erik wipes away the tears with the back of his hand. “Birthday? Whose birthday?”

“Yours, silly!” Eria squeals.

Erik’s stomach does a somersault. “And the special guests?”

Kristin smiles. “It’s a surprise.”

The doorbell rings as if on cue, and Erik has a horrible feeling this is all a cruel, vivid dream—a play with talented actors, and the curtain could close at any moment.

“Go on,” says Kristin, pointing the spatula to the hall. “Go greet your guests.”

Mind jumbled and heart racing, Erik does as he’s told. When he opens the front door, his jaw threatens to hit the floor. He steadies himself in the doorway.

Maybe I really did enter a portal to the afterlife. There’s no other explanation. Unless I’ve completely lost my mind.

Standing in front of Erik are his parents, Joe and Glendoris, dead since Erik was eighteen—years before he even met Kristin. His mother is wearing her favorite red dress, her blonde bangs perfectly coifed and her lips painted scarlet. His father’s thinning black hair is combed to the right, and his mustache is perfectly trimmed. Erik takes them into his arms, afraid to let go and have them vanish.

“Erik, is everything alright?” asks Glendoris as he cries into her hair.

“Yes, I’m just so happy to see you.”

She hands Erik a small box with a bow on top. “Happy birthday, Sweetie. I love you.” She kisses him on the cheek.

“Love you too, Mom.”

He watches as she quickly walks past him, headed toward the kitchen as if on a mission. “Where is that beautiful granddaughter of mine?” she shouts, and he hears Eria squeal with glee.

Erik shakes his head and raises his voice. “Mom… it’s not my birthday.” His parents should know his birthday, right? He thinks of the gift Stephan gave him and his head swims.

He looks back at his dad, who is wearing a goofy smile. “Come along,” Joe says, taking Erik by the shoulder. They follow Glendoris into the kitchen.

Eria is giggling uncontrollably as Glendoris alternates between kissing and tickling her. “Grandma, Grandma!”

Erik stares, loving the image but also frightened by it. Eria never met Glendoris.

Joe pats Erik on the shoulder and says, “Happy birthday, Erik.”

Erik stares at his dad, who is seven inches shorter than him. He starts to correct the man but stops himself. What’s the point?

Kristin is busy setting the table. Eria and Glendoris are laughing at a secret joke as they take their seats. Joe is poking his head into the fridge, likely looking for a cold beer. Erik watches the scene play out, unsure whether to participate.

Kristin makes his decision for him. “Sit, Erik,” she says, gesturing at the table. “Dinner is ready.”

Erik sits at the head of the table, opposite Kristin. She looks up from placing her napkin in her lap and smiles at him. Eria and his mother grin at him from his right and his father tucks his napkin into his collared shirt on his left.

So, this is what the afterlife is like, Erik thinks, before another thought occurs to him. But if I’m in the afterlife, then why did I see Stephan, Hanna, and Olafur? They’re not dead.

“Open your present, Daddy!” Eria shrieks. Presents are her favorite part of every celebration. She pushes a wrapped box toward him. “This one’s from Grandma and Grandpa.”

Feeling like he’s had two gallons of coffee, Erik shakily opens the birthday gift. He gapes at the gold watch.

Oh my God, it looks just like the watch Kristin got me for our anniversary.

He looks down at his wrist and finds that his anniversary watch is no longer there. He turns the new watch over in his hand. He rubs at his eyes, but the inscription on the back stays intact: ‘August 2, 2004.’ It’s the exact same watch.

He looks at his wrist again.

I know I was wearing it when I woke up this morning.

He looks over at his mom and holds up the watch. “Mom, where did you get this watch?” She ignores him, continuing to talk with Kristin and Joe. Erik raises his voice. “Mom! Look at me!”

No one’s head turns. They’re all leaning over the table, chatting happily with each other, but he can’t make out their words. They’re too jumbled together.

Why are they ignoring me?

He stands up, waving his arms, and immediately feels light-headed. He reaches for the table to brace himself, but his hand slips through it. He tumbles toward the floor in slow motion, the room going fuzzy and gray around him.

He feels nothing as his shoulder hits the floor, and he struggles to keep his eyes open.

His family’s voices are distant hums and the kitchen swims before his eyes like a mirage. From amid the chaos, an unfamiliar voice shouts, "Erik!”

Chapter 15

August 19th, 2017

Erik wakes with bleary eyes and a heavy head, as though he took an extra dose of Nyquil and woke too early. The lights above his bed are too bright for his dilated eyes, and he turns his head into his pillow.

A slight sinking of the bed at his feet draws his eyes open again. Keeping his cheek pressed into the soft down pillow, he takes in the sparse white room. A set of cabinets is pressed against the back wall, but there is no decoration or seating… or monitors. Not a hospital, then, he thinks.

Erik rolls over to find a pale stranger at the foot of his bed. He squints at the bald man in his mauve turtleneck and slacks. The man folds his impeccably clean, manicured hands, and smiles at Erik.

“Where am I?” Erik asks.

“You’re in our evaluation center, Erik,” says the man, rising from his chair. He is tall and slender, and the wear of his face suggests he’s in his forties.

Erik’s eyebrows furrow. “Who are you?”

“My name is Reshal.”

No Icelandic or Norwegian accent. Erik puts a hand to his head, trying to remember where he should be. Memories of the trip back to the US trickle slowly at first, until he blinks and sees Kristin’s face. After that, the euphoria he experienced comes crashing back in all at once.

“How did I get here?” he asks, shaking his head. “I was with Kristin, Eria, and my parents… having dinner. It was… my birthday?”

No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t real. You’re delusional. The euphoria fades. In its place, confusion reigns.

The man nods as if he can read every conflicted emotion on Erik’s face. “Follow me. There’s something I need to show you.”

Erik swings his legs out of the bed and is startled to see that he’s wearing unfamiliar white slacks. He looks down at himself. He’s also in a turtleneck like Reshal’s, but his is white. He runs a hand over the thick fabric. “Where are the clothes I was wearing? Where’s my cell phone?”

“They’re in your room.”

Erik tilts his head. “Room? This room?” Reshal doesn’t clarify. Erik pinches the bridge of his nose and looks at the floor, trying to concentrate. He notices a pair of slip-on shoes and slides his feet inside. He follows the other man into the hallway. “Do you work here?”

Reshal looks over his shoulder with a smile. “I’m the director of this evaluation center.”

The ten-foot-wide hallway winds left and then right, but no matter how far they walk, the walls remain free of blemish or adornment. Erik reaches out a tentative hand and slides it along the cool, smooth, white surface. It feels like marble, and Erik wonders at how expensive that might be.

At last, Reshal stops at one of the many identical doors. The thin metal door slides into the wall with one gentle touch of Reshal’s open hand. He motions Erik inside with a polite inclination of the head. Erik immediately notices what looks like a large screen fixed into the wall at the back of the room. But as he walks further into the dim space, he realizes that he was mistaken. It’s not a screen; it’s a hundred-foot-long window. The swirling colors are not a hypnotic screen saver, but the world outside this odd building.

Erik stumbles forward, heart racing. “Am I hallucinating?”

* * *

The black night before him is filled with shimmering crystals of all sizes and all hues of blue. They fill the sky like a blanket of dazzling fog.

Reshal shakes his head. “No, you’re not hallucinating. What you’re looking at is the icy debris from the Oort Cloud.”

Erik puts a hand to the window, transfixed. “The what?”

“The Oort Cloud,” Reshal repeats. “It’s a cluster of icy planetesimals located over four hundred and sixty-six billion miles from Earth. This is considered the outer limits of Earth’s solar system.”

Erik staggers back with a strangled sound, whipping around to gape at Reshal. “Space! We’re in space!” He runs a distressed hand through his blond hair. Suddenly the blue crystalline beauty outside the window is a dangerous swirling mass inside a malignant black void. “How did I get here?”

“You entered… what people on Earth refer to as an Einstein-Rosen bridge. It’s a wormhole or portal, in this instance running from Earth’s surface to this space station.”

Erik shakes his head. “But I never entered a portal. I just passed out at the entrance of a cave in Iceland.”

Reshal gives Erik a sympathetic look, reaching to place a hand on his shoulder. “You did enter, Erik. As soon as you crossed the threshold, you were brought here. The experience put you into a deep state of unconsciousness.”

“No…” says Erik, shirking off Reshal’s touch and holding the sides of his head, eyes scrunched closed. “I was having dinner with my family. It was real.”

It wasn’t real.

“I’m sure it seemed real,” says Reshal, affecting the mellow, explanatory, and yet somehow still condescending tones of a doctor. “The comatic state you were in stimulates extremely vivid dreams.”

Erik’s shoulders sag. “So… everything that happened after I walked through the portal… was a dream? I was never with my wife and daughter?”

Reshal nods. “Whatever you saw, it was just a dream.”

Erik looks out the window and shakes his head. “To be honest, I’m not sure what is real anymore.”

“I can only assure you that this is real.”

Erik turns to Reshal with something between a scoff and a chuckle. “When I was eighteen, I saw this… woman… after my mom’s funeral.” The memory that was so fuzzy and unreachable before is suddenly clear and close enough to touch. “I had a conversation with her in my backyard. She seemed real, but as it turned out… she was just a figment of my imagination.”

Reshal looks interested. “How do you know she didn’t exist?”

“Someone at the reception walked outside to ask me who I was talking to. They couldn’t see her… Only I could.” Eric pauses, his eyes again drawn to the window, calmed and mesmerized once more by the swirling, floating ice crystals. “I hadn’t thought about that incident in years. I think I… blocked it out, somehow. But then I saw the same woman a few weeks ago at the airport.” He turns to look Reshal in the eyes. “No one else saw her. What does that say about my mental health?”

Reshal shakes his head. “I’m not sure what you saw… but I’m absolutely certain that you do not suffer from any mental disorders.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

Reshal gives Erik a guilty, crooked smile and says, “When you entered our evaluation center, we performed a neuroimaging exam.”

Erik’s forehead creases. “You mean an MRI or CT?”

Reshal nods slowly with lids lowered, like an ancient master breaking in an amateur. “Yes, but much more comprehensive than an MRI or CT. Erik, I’m certain you’re not delusional.”

Erik is only slightly reassured. He’s also growing frustrated with Reshal’s reticence. He gestures with both arms at the space station. “Why am I here? Why is there a portal to this place?”

“The purpose of this vessel is to observe and evaluate the planet Earth and the humans that inhabit it. We established portals on Earth’s surface over two thousand years ago so we could perform neurological and genealogical DNA exams on the humans that enter our portal. It allows us to track your evolutionary progress. This helps us to learn more about human existence and how we are all connected.”

“So… you’re human?”

Reshal nods. “Yes.”

“Where are you from? Are you from Earth?”

“No… I… we are from Sjel,” says Reshal, smiling out into space. “It’s a planet located over one hundred million light years from Earth. Our culture has been in existence for over ten million years.”

Erik’s jaw drops. “Ten million? We’ve only been in existence for two hundred thousand years.”

Reshal raises a finger. “That’s true, but the first tangible link to humanity on Earth started around six million years ago.”

“How is it possible that humans can be transported billions of miles… through a wormhole?”

“We discovered how to manipulate space-time and gravity in order to create a link—a shortcut through space.”

Erik blinks, certain Reshal and this whole place will soon dissolve away like sand in the wind, driven off by his waking mind. Surely this is the dream, and his dinner with his family is the reality. Except that his whole family is dead. He knows that.

He tries to focus on what’s right in front of him. “How does the wormhole remain open long enough to travel through?”

“We discovered how to stabilize the passageway using exotic matter.”

Erik lets out a choked laugh. “Amazing… We’ve only been able to theorize about the existence of Einstein-Rosen bridges… but you can actually create them.” Erik pauses for a moment. “The people that are brought here… are they returned to Earth?”

“Yes.”

Erik’s eyes narrow. “I don’t understand. Wouldn’t they remember this place?”

“The people we evaluate are unconscious the entire time they’re with us. They leave with no memory of this place.”

“But… what about missing time?”

Reshal points out the window. “Due to the gravitational time dilation between both entry points, we have a twenty-two-minute window to perform our evaluation so there isn’t any missing time. The subjects are returned to Earth at the exact moment they entered the portal. It looks as if the person merely collapsed to the ground.”

Erik rubs his brow, nursing a throbbing headache. “Why wasn’t I returned to Earth?”

Reshal sighs heavily, studying his soft brown slip-ons. “We’ve never had anyone enter this space station with such a deep understanding of the human brain. We know you are managing a project that involves mapping neural pathways. We believe that this is a great opportunity for us to learn more about the people from Earth.”

“How do you know about the Human Connectome Project?”

Reshal meets Erik’s eyes and admits, “We monitor all electronic communications on Earth.”

Erik’s mind boggles at that idea. “How is that possible? There must be billions of electronic messages transmitted every day.”

“Actually, there are trillions. Our technology is far superior to that on Earth. We have been developing our technology for millions of years. We use something similar to what you call ‘artificial intelligence’ to analyze and store every single transmission.”

Erik pauses for a long moment, looking out the window, wondering how far off in that dark void Earth might lie. Fear and regret assault his heart as his family’s faces flash behind his eyes. “What if I don’t want to stay here?”

Reshal smiles at Erik. “You can return to Earth at any time.”

Return to Earth? Erik opens his mouth and then shuts it. What is really waiting for him? What he’d thought had been his last joyous moments at home had actually been a coma-induced dream. Who did he have anymore? Stephan, Hanna, and Olafur. But they didn’t need him. They had each other.

Returning to Earth would mean returning to what he’d lost. Returning to painful memories—the ghosts of his wife and daughter lingering in every room. Erik didn’t think he could stand the constant pinpricks of memory, the pitying looks from friends and colleagues, the worry etched in Stephan’s face.

Erik nods to show Reshal he understands, but he keeps his mouth a thin line.

Reshal gestures toward the door. “The leader of this space station is looking forward to meeting you. Follow me.”

Erik allows Reshal to lead him back into the wide hallway, and he studies the ceiling as they walk. It is the same white marble as the walls, and yet something inside it glows, illuminating the space. He wonders what these people use as a power source, adding it to his ever-lengthening list of questions.

But he picks the most pressing question first, increasing his pace to walk beside Reshal. “How is it that you speak perfect English? I’m assuming that Sjelians have their own language.”

Reshal chuckles, and the normality of the sound is reassuring. Erik’s addled brain had half expected a supervillain cackle. “Yes, we have our own language,” Reshal tells him, “but everyone on this station can speak English. In fact, we can speak all of Earth’s major dialects.”

Erik’s brows raise. “Really? There are thousands of languages on Earth.”

“Actually, there are six thousand, nine hundred and nine distinct dialects.”

Erik shakes his head to clear it. The monotony of the hallway, segmented at even intervals with metal doors, is starting to make him feel as though he isn’t moving forward at all, or that the corridor is an endless loop. “I don’t understand. How is that possible, that you can speak so many languages?”

“All will become clear, if you decide to stay with us.” Reshal stops at a sliding door no different from its brethren, and Erik wonders how Reshal knows where he is. “Here we are.”

He steps aside for Erik to enter first. It looks like a standard small conference room, with a large oval table that takes up most of the space and a ring of chairs around its perimeter. But the seats themselves are some sort of tan netting slung between four metal poles.

“Hello, Erik,” a tenor voice says to his right, making him jump.

The pale, bald man staring amiably at him is even taller than Reshal, and Erik has to tilt his head to look him in his dark eyes—something he isn’t used to doing. The man’s turtleneck and slacks are a muted gold.

“My name is Theran,” he says, standing with arms folded and face serene. “I’m the executive leader of this space station.”

Erik nods, his heartbeat returning to normal. “Hello.”

Theran gestures for Erik to take a seat. Erik carefully lowers himself into the strange netting and then lets out a soft sigh as the material curls around the contours of his back and buttocks, offering both support and cushion, though the material is incredibly thin.

Theran sits at the head of the table. “I hope Reshal has explained where you are, and how you got here.”

“He did,” says Erik, craning his neck to try and get a better look at the seat’s design. “He also said that I can return to Earth at any time.”

“Yes,” Theran says with a smile, “but we’re hoping that you’ll agree to stay with us. I’ve asked our lead neuroscientist to join us. She will be your assigned counselor while you’re here.”

Erik sits up in his chair. “Counselor?”

“Yes, someone to help you acclimate to this station.” Theran folds his hands on the table and nods to Reshal. “Send her in please.”

With a small bow, Reshal turns and raps twice on the door. A tall woman with noticeable hips and a slender waist walks purposefully into the room, her head held high and her long brown hair clipped away from her face to waterfall down her back. Her swan-like neck is not obscured by her long-sleeved, white crew-cut shirt. Her crystalline blue eyes resemble the swirling debris outside the space station, and when she turns those cool eyes toward Erik, blood from his trotting heart rushes to his cheeks. A stab of guilt pierces his chest. Kristin, he reminds himself. Think of Kristin. But he can’t take his eyes off of this woman. He drinks in her full lips, high cheek bones, and perfectly symmetrical button nose. She’s perfect in every way.

She’s not the woman you love, his inner voice chides.

“Hello, Erik,” she says in a rich, low voice. Her smile flashes movie star teeth and lights her expressive eyes. “My name is Aleria.”

He shoots to his feet and holds out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Aleria.”

She takes his hand and looks him directly in the eye as she gives it a gentle shake. The confidence and proximity of her gaze make him avert his eyes, not wanting her to scrutinize him too closely.

Theran stands with fingertips pressed down on the table. “Aleria will show you around this space station.”

“Follow me,” she says, and he does.

* * *

Theran holds his smile until the door whooshes closed behind Aleria and Erik. Then, as if at the flick of a switch, the corners of his mouth turn down in a scowl. “Why didn’t you contact me before you decided to break a fundamental tenet?” he demands, voice as stern as his jaw, looking at Reshal through narrowed eyes.

Reshal shakes his head. “I didn’t go to Earth’s surface. I didn’t change or modify Erik’s DNA. I didn’t communicate with Erik while he was on Earth.”

Theran’s scowl deepens, and he bangs a fist on the table. “When you decided to bring Erik out of his state of unconsciousness instead of returning him, you broke a fundamental tenet.”

Reshal gives his commander a shrewd look. “The tenet doesn’t state that we can’t communicate with someone… from Earth. It only states we can’t communicate with someone… on Earth. Erik wasn’t on Earth when I communicated with him.”

Theran closes his eyes and breathes sharply through his nose. “Semantics. We’ll see if the General Council agrees with you. If they don’t, you could face… isolation.”

Worry flickers across Reshal’s normally calm, sculpturesque face. “I know the punishment for violating a fundamental tenet.”

“You should… since you’ve already violated one.” Theran pauses when Reshal hangs his head. “Is Erik one of the three?”

“Yes,” Reshal tells the floor before daring to meet Theran’s gaze.

Theran rubs his eye, his palm lifting his cheek. “Why would you bring him here? It’s only a matter of time before someone finds out he has Sjelian DNA.”

“No one will find out,” Reshal says quickly. “I altered his neuroimaging and DNA results.”

Theran shakes his head. “If someone performs a duplicate test, they’ll find out the truth.”

Reshal makes his face as blank as the walls, masking his emotion. “Why would someone perform a duplicate test?”

“I don’t know why someone would…” Theran says slowly, “But it could happen. You put yourself at risk—and me as well—by doing this. Why would you risk everything?”

Reshal rubs at his shiny pate, the mask of serenity beginning to crack. “You have a daughter. Imagine if you couldn’t see her or even meet her. You know how painful that would be? Erik, Fresler, and Karena are my only offspring.”

The stern set of Theran’s jaw softens and he heaves a sigh, rubbing at his clean-shaven cheek. “How did you get Erik to walk through that portal? I know it didn’t happen by chance.”

Reshal chews at the inside of his lip, eyes locked with Theran’s for five heartbeats before saying, “There is a man, related to Erik by marriage. A close friend. He’s a medical doctor on Earth. He had a patient that was terminally ill. I…” Reshal’s voice lowers to a whisper. “I altered communications so that this patient would find our portal last year. When he entered it, I modified his DNA, giving him the ability to heal himself from his diseases. After the medical doctor informed Erik of his patient’s ability to heal, the patient became a volunteer in Erik’s study, the Human Connectome Project. The patient told Erik about the portal, and when Erik researched the cave, I once again altered communications to ensure that Erik would find the portal.”

“You altered communications on Earth and modified someone’s DNA,” says Theran, voice like a thunder crack.

“I did not alter Erik’s DNA,” Reshal says weakly.

Theran ignores him. “You have violated our tenets multiple times.”

Reshal clears his throat. “I realize that—”

“When you impregnated those women,” Theran snarls, “I should have notified the General Council. I didn’t. Now, I’m culpable.”

“I am sorry, Theran. I never meant to involve you.” Reshal shakes his head. “Why didn’t you notify the General Council thirty-three years ago?”

Theran leans on the table with his fists, his eyes sad. “You’re my closest friend, and I know you were trying to save lives.”

Reshal throws up his hands and then lets them fall against his thighs with an audible smack. “I’m sorry, Theran. You’re probably right… it’s just a matter of time before someone finds out that Erik has Sjelian DNA. I never should have brought him here.”

“And yet you did.” Theran tilts his head. “This isn’t only about a familial reconciliation. The stakes are too high. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Yes…” says Reshal, scratching at the back of his head. “Erik saw a woman after his mother passed away. No one else could see her. He saw her again recently. I’m assuming this was after the deaths of his wife and child, although he has not yet mentioned their loss to me directly.”

“You learned of this by monitoring his communications on Earth?” Theran asks.

“Yes. Their unfortunate deaths set Erik on the path to the portal more quickly than I’d anticipated.”

“And the woman he saw?”

“He thinks she is a delusion, but…”

Theran covers his eyes and forehead with a hand and shakes his head. “He has your ability.” He brings his eyes to Reshal’s, letting the gravity of the situation sink in. “He has telepathic perception. If Erik mentions this to anyone, they’ll know he is Sjelian.”

Chapter 16

Earth year 1984 - Sjel’s capital, Lender

In a white, domed chamber that serves as both the assembly hall and courtroom of the capital building, all thirteen members of the General Council are seated at a long, semi-circular steel table. The ceiling above allows the light of the nearest blazing star through a single, circular glass panel at the top of the dome. The white-hooded councilmembers scroll through the blue text on the screens built into the table, skimming the reports that have brought them here today. Theran, Reshal, and Akril stand at the base of the hall’s two thousand seats in front of the elevated stage on which the table sits, waiting for permission to speak.

Arwed, the lead councilmember, eyes them from the center of the table. His prominent bone structure and long, sharp nose, hooked slightly in the middle, make him look like a bird of prey. He turns left and right to nod at his fellow councilmembers before lifting his chin and addressing the scientists before him. “Twenty thousand years ago, our General Council was faced with a difficult decision. To save a planet from extinction… or do nothing. We are faced with this same decision today.”

Arwed taps his screen and flips through a few digital pages of notes before looking up at Theran. “Based on your station’s research, the accumulation of water vapor, carbon dioxide, methane, and nitrous oxide into Earth’s atmosphere will result in the melting of the arctic permafrost by the year 2053. Is this correct?”

Theran nods. “Yes, it is.”

Arwed looks back down at his notes. “Trapped in this arctic permafrost is 1.8 billion tons of carbon. If the people of Earth do not stop releasing these gases into Earth’s atmosphere by the year 2025, then it will be too late to stop the melting of the arctic permafrost. As a result, the carbon will evaporate into methane… which is thirty-four times more powerful than carbon dioxide.” Arwed looks to Theran. “Earth will be uninhabitable by the year 2132. Do you agree?”

“Yes, I agree.”

Arwed turns again to his fellow councilmembers, his hood sliding back toward his bald crown. “Based on this research, it is the decision of this Council to send two capsules to the surface of Earth.”

Reshal audibly grinds his teeth. Though his head is lowered in appropriate deference, his eyes are lifted to glare at the faces assembled at the table.

Arwed flicks his eyes toward Reshal, but ignores him, looking to Theran instead as he continues, “One capsule will be placed in the Larsen C ice shelf of Antarctica, and the other in the northeastern Greenland ice sheet. If the people of Earth continue to release nitrous oxide, methane, and carbon dioxide into Earth’s atmosphere, the global temperatures will rise, resulting in the calving of these two ice sheets. When these sheets break, the capsules will be exposed to the sun. As a result, morphons will be released into neighboring ice sheets. Within five years, these morphons will reach warmer temperatures and begin infecting humans. The resulting pandemic will kill most of the population.”

Theran studies Arwed, his face unreadable, and asks, “So... the Council has agreed that there should be survivors?”

Arwed nods, causing his hood to fall onto his back. “Yes, but it was not a unanimous decision. Six of our members believe that there should not be any survivors. I had to cast the deciding vote. I believe there should be survivors. Therefore, the morphons will be altered so that they will be dormant in freezing temperatures. We believe this will result in at least… four million survivors.”

“Only four million will survive?” Reshal shouts, unable to control himself a moment longer. His normally serene face is ablaze, his fury creating new lines in his forehead. “This Council will be killing billions of humans. That’s genocide!”

Arwed turns slowly to Reshal, observing him with indifference down his long nose. “I understand your… fondness for these humans, but we believe that they control their own fate. If they stop releasing these gases into their atmosphere, then the ice sheets will not melt, and the morphons will stay frozen. No one on Earth will die at our hand. However, if they continue to release these gases into their atmosphere, then many will perish. It’s up to them.”

“How is it up to them?” Reshal demands, his tenor voice reaching a new octave. “Sending those capsules into the ice sheets doesn’t mean that you are not responsible for killing billions of humans. It is your decision, not theirs. It’s not like you’re warning them of the consequences.”

Arwed’s thick black brows pull together in a rare show of emotion as he glares at Reshal. “If we do nothing, not only will every living soul on Earth perish, but the planet will die as well. The morphons will save the planet and its inhabitants.”

Reshal snorts. “You are not saving people… you’re murdering them. We need to give them a chance to save their planet. I implore you… do not send those capsules to the surface… they will discover a way to reverse the effects before it is too late. I have faith in the people of Earth.”

Arwed leans forward and says, “We don’t. The Council’s decision is final.”

Reshal marches to the edge of the stage and points a finger up at Arwed. “Then we need to send a third capsule to Earth after the initial outbreak! There have to be more than four million survivors. If we provide them with a vaccine, the survival rate could rise as high as three hundred million!”

Arwed looks past Reshal at Akril, who brushes a strand of her short blonde hair from her forehead as she stands at attention.

“Akril, we haven’t heard from you yet. What is your opinion? Should we provide the people of Earth with a vaccine?”

Reshal retreats from the stage, looking back at Akril with a plea in his eyes, but Akril doesn’t spare him a glance. Her petite features are childish, but her eyes hold no child-like sense of wonder, only cold logic. “I disagree with Reshal… and I disagree with you, Arwed. There shouldn’t be any survivors. If there is even one survivor, then a hundred or a thousand years from now, we will be right back here… faced with the same decision. The Earth-humans’ technological advancements have far outpaced their emotional evolution.”

Theran steps forward, shooting a warning glance at Reshal, who had opened his mouth for an angry retort. “What is your concern with providing a vaccine, Arwed?”

“If there are three hundred million survivors, then we believe”—Arwed gestures at the table at large—“that within one hundred years, they will start releasing these gases into their environment again. If only four million survive, it could take hundreds, if not thousands, of years before that happens, and by then they will have evolved emotionally. The people on Earth have made remarkable advancements in technology. We feel that they are not ready for this technology. Eventually they will be… but not until they evolve emotionally.”

Reshal shakes his head. His face has regained its usual composure, but his hands are clenched in fists at his sides. “I completely disagree.”

Arwed nods to Reshal. “I understand… but the decision of this General Council is final. We will not provide a vaccine.” Arwed stands up. “You are not to discuss this with anyone outside this room. The capsules will be sent from the space station two weeks from today. Thank you for your time.”

The hooded councilmembers rise as one and move in a slow line down from the stage, some of them nodding to the three scientists as they make their way out of the assembly hall. Akril huffs as she adjusts her white coat and brushes past Reshal on her way out.

Reshal looks skyward at the blue and orange star through the dome window. “I can’t believe she wants to kill everyone on Earth.”

Theran puts his hand on Reshal’s shoulder. “You have to understand… it’s her job to study Earth itself, not the humans that live on it. She looks at things much differently than you do. She sees Earth as a living, breathing entity, and she thinks the humans are destroying it.”

“She’s wrong. If we give them time, they will figure out a way to save their planet.” Reshal looks at Theran with fierce determination. “If we can’t send a third capsule to the surface, then we have to figure out another way to save them.”

Theran grabs both of Reshal’s shoulders and gives him a slight shake. “No… we can’t! The Council’s decision is final. If you disobey their order, you could face isolation.”

Reshal’s eyes narrow and his mouth sets into a thin, hard line. “That’s a risk I’ll have to take.”

Chapter 17

As he follows her down the long hallway that leads to the evaluation center, Erik keeps his eyes on Aleria’s swishing hair. He does his best not to let his eyes wander lower, but there honestly isn’t much else to look at besides his lovely guide. All of the corridors in this space station look exactly the same. Without Aleria in front of him, Erik would be horribly lost.

Aleria pauses in front of a metal door, and it slides open for her. Erik follows her into the warehouse-sized room, its blank walls lined with glass doors that peer into forty private offices. Inside are plain metal desks and more mesh chairs. But here, at least, some decorations line the outer edges of desks. Erik sees thin picture frames that move through slideshows and strange trinkets he has no name for. All of the offices are empty, and the lights are dimmed.

“Where is everyone?” Erik asks.

“We don’t work past a certain time in the evening.”

Erik pauses by the three large holographic screens at the center of the room. He imagines the occupants of those forty offices standing around these screens, deep in discussion about… what, exactly? He has no idea. He decides to fish for information. “Theran said that you were the lead neuroscientist on board this station,” he says to Aleria, and she nods in response. “I’m also a neuroscientist. I’m working on a project to map all of the neural pathways in the brain.”

Aleria tucks a stray baby hair behind her ear. “Reshal mentioned that you were working on the Human Connectome Project. It seems as though you’re off to a good start.”

“A good start,” Erik echoes, thinking of the groundbreaking progress he’s made with his team. He suddenly feels a little sheepish. “I suppose that Sjelians have already mapped all the neural pathways and synaptic connections of the human brain?”

Aleria smiles, but not condescendingly. “Yes… long ago.”

“I’d love to hear more about your research,” Erik says genuinely.

“All in good time. For now, step into my office.”

She leads him to a door across the room, at the very center of the back wall. As they enter, the lights flicker on and a holographic screen illuminates, projected from a tiny hole at the center of her desk. Another physical screen is set into the right-hand side of the desk. “Let me show you a map of this space station.” She touches the holographic screen, and in an instant, the square frame is replaced by a 3D holographic image of the space station. It resembles a hammerhead shark with an extra pectoral fin on each side and a raised square segment on its back in place of a dorsal fin.

Erik skirts around her for a better look. “Remarkable. It looks so real.” He waves his hand through the image, making it shimmer like a mirage.

“There are four sections to this vessel,” says Aleria, stepping forward. She brushes against him and Erik backs out of her way, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Aleria doesn’t seem affected by their moment of contact. She points at the image without touching it. “We’re located here, near the rear of the vessel.” She indicates the center portion next. “These are the living quarters. There are one hundred and twenty rooms, but only one hundred and twelve Sjelians currently live here. At the front of the vessel is the operations section.” She then points to the left side of the ship. “And this is where the Setustofa rooms are located.”

Erik smiles at the strange word. “The Setustofa rooms?”

“This larger room is for socialization,” Aleria explains, “while the smaller space next door is a fitness room.”

Erik raises an eyebrow. “Sjelians socialize?” Everyone he’s met so far seems so stoic and… well, centered. He can’t picture what they might consider a fun, wild gathering.

Aleria stares at Erik for a few seconds, face calm as a wade pool. The only indication of her confusion is the tiniest tilt of her head. “Yes, Sjelians socialize. I don’t spend a lot of time in that room myself, but I do use the fitness room.”

“What about a place to eat? Is there a cafeteria?”

“No… there are no cafeterias.”

“Don’t Sjelians eat food?” says Erik, his own stomach rumbling at the thought.

Aleria’s calm veneer finally cracks. Her chuckle is a honey-thick sound that bubbles up from her gut and makes Erik smile. “Yes… we eat food. When I show you your room, I’ll explain everything.”

Erik looks back out at the empty office space. “How many people work in this evaluation center?”

“Thirty-five people work here,” Aleria says as Erik circles her desk, hands clasped behind his back, taking in the holographic space ship from all angles. “The evaluation center is divided into two sections. Reshal is the director of human evaluation and our colleague Akril is the director of planetary evaluation. She studies Earth’s environment, while he studies its inhabitants. The human evaluation section consists of neurology and genetics. I’m the lead for the neurological exams, and Lina is the lead for the genealogical DNA exams. I’m sure you’ll meet her soon enough.”

Erik glances up from the hologram and says, “Reshal mentioned that the people that enter the portal are tested without their knowledge. On Earth, that would be considered immoral. Every person we study as part of the HCP is there voluntarily.”

Aleria’s eyebrows reach for her hairline. “We don’t alter or modify the people that come through the portal. They are returned to Earth without any missing time or knowledge of this place.”

“Just because they are not aware of this place doesn’t make what you do to them okay.”

“Your planet has a long history of these, as you say, immoral studies.” Aleria speaks like a teacher explaining the necessity of sharing to a small child. “It’s easier for the people who visit us to retain no memories of what happened.”

“Easier, maybe,” Erik acknowledges. “But that still doesn’t make it right.”

“I understand,” Aleria says, though her tone of voice remains placid. “Let me show you your living quarters. Follow me.” She curls two fingers in a “hurry along” gesture and heads out the glass door.

As Aleria leads Erik out of the research area and through two enormous metal doors marked by words that he cannot translate, he eagerly peers around her shoulder, expecting the central portion of the vessel to have some sort of decoration or personality. After all, it is the living space. But yet again, he is greeted by blank white surfaces on all sides—the monotony broken only by evenly spaced rectangles of metal painted with room numbers.

Aleria stops in front of room number one hundred and twenty and says, "If you decide to stay with us, this will be your living quarters.”

She hands Erik a slim white wristband with a small touchscreen on the top. “This is a personalized access device, or a PAD. It’ll give you access to your room and other parts of this vessel. You can also use it to communicate with anyone on this vessel.” She puts the PAD on his extended wrist and clicks the screen to life, popping up a mini holographic screen with a search bar and a circular button to start a call. “My PAD code is sixty-four, but you can also just type in my name.” She clicks an x in the screen’s top right-hand corner and the hologram vanishes. “Now, go ahead and wave it in front of your door.”

Erik waves his right arm, his wrist crossing in front of a six-inch-square access panel. The door slides open with a soft whoosh.

Erik twists the PAD this way and that in front of his wide eyes. “That’s better than a key card.”

Aleria steps in first, shifting into the corner to let him wander in after her. When Erik enters, he gapes at the fifty-foot-wide window into outer space that runs the length of the back wall. After several moments, he tears his eyes away from the void outside to examine the rest of the room. The king-sized bed sits perpendicular to the window against the left wall, while a small couch that looks more like a hammock faces the window, for a perfect view. Off the main living area is a pristine bathroom with a standing shower.

“Everything in your room is voice-activated,” Aleria informs him. “The window also doubles as a computer screen. You can set the room temperature and even the temperature of the water.” She turns to her right and points to what looks like a microwave set into the wall above a long, low metal wardrobe. “This is your food and water dispenser. It’s programed specifically for your body’s needs.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We each require different levels of nutrients and calories. Your food dispenser was programmed based on your body’s specific nutritional requirements.”

“How were you able to determine my nutritional needs?” he says, turning to her with an accusatory look.

“The calculations are based on your blood test.”

Feeling a tad violated, Erik opens the dispenser and sees what looks like blocks of gray sponges. He picks one up and smells it. He wrinkles his nose at the scent: sharp and mineral, with just a hint of cardboard. “I’m supposed to eat this?” His upper lip curls involuntarily.

“You’ll get used to the taste,” Aleria says, that wry smile flickering across her face again.

Erik puts the unappetizing sponge back inside the dispenser and shuts the door. “Sjelians don’t eat together… in social settings?”

“No… your room is the only place where you can get food. Eating for Sjelians is like exercising or bathing. It’s something that we need to do each day, but we don’t feel it’s necessary to do publicly.”

Erik’s eyebrows draw together. “So… there are no restaurants or cafeterias on Sjel.”

“No,” Aleria confirms.

“But there is food that tastes better than that stuff smells?”

“Food is for nourishment, not pleasure,” Aleria says. “But yes, on Sjel we do have more options.”

Erik looks at his PAD. “Can I explore this station on my own?"

“Yes, your band will give you access to certain rooms, although some areas of the station will be off-limits. Why don't you wait until tomorrow to explore? It’s late.” She heads for his door but stops short and looks back. “I’ll show you around tomorrow.”

Erik nods. “Sounds good.” The door swishes open, but he stops her by saying, “By the way, where’s my cell phone?”

Aleria walks over to the low wardrobe across from the bed and opens the top drawer. “Your clothes and phone are in here. You can actually download your music, pictures, and videos onto your room’s computer.” She points at the giant window where ice crystals swirl in uninhabited space. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, finally making her exit.

Erik stares at the door a moment after she’s gone. He lets the burst of hysterical laughter he’s been holding inside bubble to the surface. I’m in space! he thinks, barely able to believe it. He saunters across the room to plop down on the couch, made of that same tan mesh material slung between strong poles. “Computer, please show me the planet Sjel.” A three-dimensional picture of the blue-green planet appears on the giant screen. Erik is amazed by how real it looks and is infected with the same child-like wonder that overcame him in Aleria’s office. He reaches out to touch it, knowing what will happen even before his hand falls straight through the picture, but unable to resist the attempt.

“Computer,” he goes on, “show me the surface of Sjel.”

A cool female voice responds, “What specific location do you want displayed?"

"I don't know. Show me somewhere interesting.”

"That is not a location that I can display."

Erik rolls his eyes. Voice commands are a pain no matter what planet you’re from. “Display the largest city on Sjel.”

“Define largest.”

Erik groans in frustration and says, “The most populated!”

“The most populated city on Sjel is Lendar."

“Computer, show me the city of Lendar.”

The planet disappears and the screen fills with a street view of a distinctly human city, but the natural beauty on Lendar peeks through the industry far more than on Earth. It looks more like a beautiful suburb than a bustling metropolis. None of the buildings stand over two stories high, and familiar plants dot all available space—grass, flowers, and trees, all startlingly vibrant. Abstract sculptures, fountains, and engineered waterfalls liven up the more open, public spaces.

The strangest thing about it is that it doesn’t look alien at all—which gives Erik pause.

Is this real? Am I really on a space ship that is billions of miles from Earth? How would I know one way or the other?

Erik thinks hard for a second, and then the lightbulb blinks on in his brain.

Reshal said that everything that happened after I walked through the portal was a dream. If that’s true, then the video I took of that woman at the airport when I returned from Iceland won’t be on my phone.

Erik retrieves his cell from the wardrobe and accesses his recent videos. The treasured clip of Eria in St. John is there, along with the video he took of the cave in Akureyri when they’d first arrived… but that’s it.

There are no other videos.

This is actually happening.

Chapter 18

Erik wakes to the sensation of his right wrist vibrating. Still groggy even after an eight-hour sleep, he rubs at his eyes and tries to focus on the lights flashing from his PAD. A few more rapid blinks solidify the holographic image of Aleria’s face, smooth and expressionless. He clicks the floating image and the photo is replaced by a 3D replica of Aleria from the waist up, smiling at him.

“Good morning, Erik. Are you ready for your tour of the station?”

He stretches his arms out like Frankenstein’s monster and sits up. “Yes… just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

“I’ll stop by your room in fifteen minutes,” she says with a small inclination of the head.

“Great, thanks.” Erik gets out of bed and heads for the shower. “Computer, activate the shower.”

“What temperature would you like the water to be?” asks the simulated voice from speakers he cannot see. The voice comes from everywhere, making it feel as though he’s living inside the belly of the computer woman. That thought gives him the heebie-jeebies.

Erik puts a hand to his chin, pondering what the ideal temperature might be. “Eighty-six degrees.”

The water flows like April rain from four different spouts—two in the ceiling and two in the walls at chest height. He sets the PAD on the counter, unsure if it’s waterproof, then steps in the shower and immediately jumps out, dancing on the balls of his feet and shaking water from his arms. “Shit that’s cold! Computer, please set the temperature to one hundred degrees.” He steps one leg back in cautiously. “Much better,” he says, bringing the rest of his body inside and closing the glass door.

After his shower, he decides to wear the Sjelian clothes, abandoning his polo shirt and jeans for now. Once dressed, he opens the food and water dispenser and pulls out a spongy block of food. He looks it over and takes a small bite. The texture is the first problem. It’s like a fuzzy mushroom, sticking to his tongue and teeth. “God, this sucks!” He swallows the rest quickly, barely bothering to chew, and then runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth, trying to rid himself of the odd, medicinal taste.

The PAD buzzes from the bathroom, and Erik quickly retrieves it. Aleria again. This time, a typed message. I’m here. He waves his PAD to open his door and is greeted by her face, a half-smile tugging gently at the corners of her mouth. “How did you sleep?”

“I haven’t slept that well in…” He fades off, knowing precisely the last time he slept so soundly: the last night his wife and daughter were alive. Grief stabs at him like a sharp knife, and it’s all he can do not to clutch at his side to stanch the bleeding. He blinks, trying to maintain his composure, and tells Aleria, “The bed is amazing.” He frowns as he adds, “But the food sucks.”

Her peal of laughter brightens his spirits a bit. “You’ll get used to it. I’d like to introduce you to some of the key members of our crew, in addition to showing you around. Are you ready?”

“I am.” He thinks he would agree to anything she proposed right now—whatever will distract him from the pain of his loss. “Lead the way.”

Aleria brings him to another set of double doors and uses her PAD to open it. The white halls here are shorter and branch off of each other every few feet. The doors are more scattered and, Aleria tells him, each room’s purpose is painted across the top. Unfortunately, he doesn’t recognize the words.

“This is where our engineers work,” she says as she waves her PAD to gain entrance.

The control center looks much like Aleria’s lab—a wide room with offices lining the outside and a series of busy, flashing screens in the center. Additionally, a horseshoe-shaped panel with hundreds of buttons and levers sits in front of a huge window at the back of the room. Though the scenery outside the few windows hasn’t changed, it is morning according to the ship’s clock, and work has just begun for the day. Every office is filled. Bald men and striking women bend over metal desks, fingers busy at their double screens.

Erik looks around to realize Aleria is already halfway across the room and jogs to catch up with her. She knocks at an unmarked office, and the bald man inside looks up and waves them inside.

“Kralo, I would like to introduce you to Erik,” says Aleria.

Kralo stands and approaches Erik and Aleria with an extended hand. His big cheeks and narrow nose remind Erik of Stephan. His skin is fresh, ruddy, and smooth, making Erik guess he is a great deal younger than Theran and Reshal. None of the men on this ship have even the slightest hint of facial hair. Kralo’s forearms are exposed by his rolled-up sleeves, and even they are baby-smooth and clear.

Kralo smiles as he shakes Erik’s hand once, his grip soft. “Nice to meet you, Erik. I never thought I would get the chance to meet someone from Earth.”

Aleria nods her head as if to say, “Likewise.”

Unsure how to respond, Erik shrugs with a bashful look and asks, “What’s your role on this vessel, Kralo?”

“I’m the head of operations. It’s my responsibility to make sure that all of the station’s systems are performing efficiently—especially life support.” Kralo smiles at Aleria with a familiarity that Erik instantly covets. “Since this vessel is permanently docked, I don’t have to pilot it, but normally that would be my responsibility as well.”

Erik is impressed. “A pilot! Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

Kralo holds out both hands, as if to say, go ahead.

“I was told that Sjel is millions of light years away from Earth,” Erik says, and Aleria and Kralo both nod. “Do you travel through wormholes or portals, similar to the one I traveled through to get here?”

Kralo’s eyes flick to Aleria’s before he says bluntly, “Yes.”

He says the word as though it closes the subject for good, but Erik opens his mouth to press.

Aleria cuts over him, saying, “I told Mandal that we would stop by in a few minutes. We should get going. Thanks, Kralo.”

Another quick look passes between Aleria and Kralo, and Erik stiffens his jaw, wondering what it’s all about. Is there something they don’t want him to know? Or have they simply known each other long enough to be able to communicate without words?

A jolt of homesickness pushes its way through the excitement of new discovery. He is a stranger here on this ship and probably always will be. As Aleria leads him out of the control center and into another blank hallway, Erik finds himself longing for color, for expression, for variety and even for extreme emotion. If he were to share his grief, to really let himself be vulnerable with these people… would they understand?

He tries to box off the part of him that’s hurting. The part of him that’s missing Earth—the good and the bad parts alike. There is so much to see here, so much to learn, so many questions to ask. He needs to stay present.

Aleria opens another door, and Erik perks up. This room is different—much smaller and set up like a dentist’s office. A blonde woman sits at a counter in a waiting area, but when she sees Aleria, she waves them toward the door to her right with a gentle smile. Aleria knocks on an office door, and a feminine voice says, “Come in.”

The woman at the desk crammed into the tiny office is obscured by her holographic screen, but she turns it off by holding an open palm in front of it and closing her hand quickly into a fist. Her shoulder-length hair is tied back in a tight ponytail that pulls the skin around her face taut. She looks middle-aged, but her dark eyes are youthful.

“Hi, Mandal. I wanted to introduce you to Erik,” says Aleria.

Mandal stands up, but stays behind her desk as she tips her head to Erik, “Hello.”

“Mandal is the director of microbiology and medicine on this vessel,” says Aleria.

Erik raises his eyebrows. “That’s impressive. Are you the only medical doctor on this vessel?”

“No, there are three of us.”

“My brother-in-law is a medical doctor on Earth.”

Mandal smiles brighter than any Sjelian Erik has seen yet, looking genuinely interested as she gestures for him to sit at the one spare chair in front of her desk. “What does he specialize in?”

“He’s an oncologist,” says Erik, sitting down.

Mandal looks over at Aleria and narrows her eyes, and once again, Erik feels like an intruder, or perhaps a specimen in a cage, watching its captors decide its fate. He tries to shake the feeling as Mandal turns back to him and says, “There’s been significant progress on Earth in the treatment of cancer, but unfortunately… there’s still no cure.”

Erik looks down at his feet and shakes his head. “My dad died from cancer when I was eighteen and my mother-in-law is currently battling cancer.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Erik.”

He nods, not possessing the energy to thank Mandal for the condolence. He’s heard one too many lately. “Have Sjelians developed a cure for cancer?”

She smiles gently. “We eliminated all genetic diseases millions of years ago.”

Erik’s forehead creases. “So… there’s no cancer on Sjel.”

“No.”

Erik’s heart canters in his chest, but he tries to keep his face serene like Reshal’s. “If someone were to develop cancer, would you be able to cure them?”

“Of course.” Mandal squeezes past her chair and pulls a vial of liquid out of the floor-to-ceiling medicine cabinet that takes up most of the office space. “It would be as simple as taking this.”

Erik leans forward and unabashedly puts his hands on her desk to get a closer look at the clear substance held aloft in her hand. “What is it?”

“It is a specifically designed Macrophage that can seek out and destroy any foreign organism, including cancerous cells.”

Erik’s eyes are wide. “Why do you need that, if there are no genetic diseases on Sjel?”

“There are some illnesses that are not genetic. Those, we haven’t been able to eliminate.”

“If you were treating someone on Earth for cancer, would you give them that… Macrophage?”

Mandal glances at Aleria before answering. “Yes… it would cure them of cancer. We could also alter the connection between their splenic nerve and vagus nerve. That’s the connection between your spleen and nervous system.”

“What would that do?” Erik asks urgently.

“It would allow your immune system to fight most diseases on Earth.”

Erik leans back in the chair and runs a hand through his blond hair. “That’s amazing. Could this procedure… cure someone of multiple sclerosis?”

“Yes, among other diseases.”

Timothy Claiborne, Erik thinks. He must have come here, through the portal.

“Thanks, Mandal.” Aleria interrupts his thoughts, pulling open the office door. “We should get going. I have work to do.”

Erik rises but keeps his eyes on the vial until Aleria taps her shoe, hurrying him along.

* * *

Back at Aleria’s office in the evaluation center, Erik sits in one of two chairs in front of her desk. His mind is still on the Macrophage, wondering if it could be replicated by scientists on Earth.

“There is something that I wanted to show you,” says Aleria, startling him out of his thoughts. She taps on the thin screen built into her desk, and the holographic screen at the center of the room shifts into an image of a brain.

“This is an image of someone from Earth that lived over two thousand years ago.” She pulls up another image and uses a wave of two fingers to display them side by side. “This is an image of an Earth inhabitant’s brain taken a year ago. Do you see the difference?”

Erik sits up straighter. At last, something familiar. “Yes, there are more neural pathways in this image.” Erik points to the more recent brain scan on the right.

She smiles and nods, and Erik half expects her to take on a babyish voice and say, “Good job!” But instead, she pulls up a third image and centers it above the previous two. “This is my scan.”

Erik’s jaw drops. “Oh, my God. There are twice as many neural pathways in this image.”

Aleria interlaces her fingers with forearms resting on her desk. “Actually, there are three times as many pathways and synaptic connections. This is the result of millions of years of evolution. Eventually, the people of Earth will have these same connections.”

Erik shakes his head with mouth gaping like a fish. “Incredible. How do these connections make us different?”

“Let me show you an example. Do you see this pathway?” With a touch of her finger, Aleria highlights the Limbic system on her own brain scan in red. Spreading her index finger and thumb, she zooms in on a neural pathway and traces it with a fingernail. “It extends from the amygdala to the prefrontal cortex.”

Erik nods. “Yes.” He points to the present-day Earth scan. “It doesn’t exist here.”

“Not yet. But one day, people on Earth will have that same connection.”

“Why is it important?”

“It allows us to think before we react. Because of these connections, we have evolved into a non-violent race.”

“I don’t understand. There’s no violence on Sjel? At all?”

“There hasn’t been an act of violence on Sjel in millions of years.”

Erik brings his brows together in suspicion. “Don’t Sjelians get mad or angry? Don’t they argue?”

“Yes, Sjelians have the same emotions as the people on Earth. We get angry, but we don’t act out in violence.”

Erik studies her face. “Not everyone on Earth is violent.”

“That’s true,” Aleria says with a knowing grin, as if she senses that Erik is speaking partly about himself. “But some… many are.” She points to the brain scan and says, “Someday… no one on Earth will be capable of violence.”

Aleria’s PAD vibrates. She studies the screen where Erik can see small text, but he can’t make out the words. They don’t look to be English. “Sorry… I have some work to do,” says Aleria, standing up and moving around him to open her door. “Can you find your way back to your room?” She steps aside and gestures toward the exit of the evaluation center.

“I think so,” he says, taking the cue and standing as well. But then he thinks of the vial and pauses, a hand on the back of the chair. “Actually, can I stay and look at some of your research?”

“I would say yes,” Aleria says with what seems to be genuine regret, “but the research is written in our language, so it wouldn’t be of any use to you. If you decide to stay with us, you’ll need to learn our language and customs. Once you do, you’ll be able to access our research, our historical records—whatever you’d like to study.”

“Are there any programs that I could use to learn the Sjelian language?”

“You can access them on your computer in your room.”

He takes the hint. “Thanks for the tour,” he says, and departs for the labyrinth of white hallways and metal doors.

* * *

Aleria watches Erik walk the length of the evaluation center and use his PAD to exit into the hallway. When the doors close behind him, she leaves her office and heads two doors down. Lina looks up with a friendly smile as Aleria lets herself in and takes a seat by her desk. Lina is rather petite for a Sjelian, and her chair is set higher than Aleria’s so that she can properly utilize her holographic computer. Today her wavy auburn hair is only half tied back, the top pulled into a braided bun and the rest falling below her shoulders.

“Did you review Erik’s genetic tests?” Aleria asks her younger friend.

Lina blinks at her abruptness, but she nods her head casually. “Yes, and I didn’t see anything unusual.”

Aleria shakes her head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Lina shrugs, tapping at her desk screen. “What doesn’t make sense?”

“Why wasn’t Erik returned to Earth? Why would Theran and Reshal let him stay?”

“His knowledge of neuroscience and his involvement with the Human Connectome Project.”

Aleria presses her fingers to her full bottom lip. “No, that’s not it. We’re so much more advanced that his presence honestly wouldn’t be of much help. There has to be another reason. When I talked with Theran and Reshal about it, I could sense they weren’t being truthful.”

At that, Lina gives Aleria her full attention, eyes narrowed. “Did Erik’s neuroimaging exam show any anomalies?”

“No…” Aleria pauses, drumming on Lina’s desk absentmindedly. Her fingers freeze as something else occurs to her. “We typically look over the test results before Reshal sees them,” she says slowly, “but in this case, he asked to see Erik’s results first.”

“He’s done that in the past.”

“True. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything’s amiss.” But Aleria still has a wrinkle between her eyebrows.

Lina’s eyes follow someone walking past her transparent door. When the footsteps become distant, she looks back at Aleria. “Has Erik decided if he is going to return to Earth?”

“No… not yet.”

“He’ll have to decide soon.”

Aleria responds, “I know. The exploration vessel docks here in a month.”

Lina leans back in her chair and appraises Aleria. “Will Erik be allowed to travel on the exploration vessel?”

Aleria gives Lina a meaningful look. “Yes, Theran has decided to let Erik travel with us, if he chooses.”

Lina rests her chin on the back of her hand, elbow propped on her desk. “The General Council gave their approval?”

“That’s what Theran told me.” She waits a beat. “Do you see why I’m intrigued?”

The other woman nods. “Remaining on this station is one thing. But why would Erik be allowed to go on an exploration vessel?”

Aleria intertwines her fingers on her lap and looks at the ceiling with a slight shake of her head. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

Chapter 19

Erik rubs at his forehead and then his eyes, suffering from information overload. The wall-length computer is alight, ready to continue the same Sjelian puzzles, games, and call-and-response lessons that Erik has been trying to absorb for the past few hours. The Sjelian language is like nothing he’s ever seen. The verb isn’t at the end, as with many romance languages, nor is it directly after the subject, as in English. Instead, it’s at the opening of the sentence. It seems that Sjelians like to get right to the point. Meanwhile, the words themselves are hardly pronounceable, much less readable.

Erik sighs and lies down on the couch, giving up. He pulls his phone out and watches Eria play in the sand for the thousandth time. Here on a space station, God knows how far from Earth, his daughter seems like a distant memory. She’s been gone less than three weeks, and already he finds it hard to remember exactly what she felt like in his arms, the exact weight of her, and the exact place where her hands reached on his back when she reached up to hug him. But he refuses to forget what her voice sounds like, the color of her eyes, or the curve of her smile. He plans to hold onto every crisp detail the video can provide for the rest of his life—no matter how far from home this journey takes him.

When the video ends, he plays it again immediately. A sob claws its way out of him, and the tears follow. He greets them as old friends.

Erik’s PAD vibrates. Another call from Aleria. Erik closes the video and wipes away his tears before pressing the button that makes Aleria materialize in miniature before his eyes.

“I’m finished with work,” she says. “Do you want to see the Setustofa room?”

Erik clears his throat, hoping she won’t hear the emotion in his voice. “That would be great.”

“I’ll be by shortly.” She signs off, her hologram blinking away into nothing.

Erik throws some sink water on his face and brushes his hair. When Aleria knocks softly several minutes later, he glances in the mirror one last time. The redness in his eyes has gone down, although they’re still a bit puffy. He looks… fine. Normal.

And yet, when he opens the door, Aleria blinks, leans forward, and says, “Erik, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he lies. “Just tired. But ready to socialize. Lead the way.”

She gives him one more funny look, but she doesn’t push him.

They make the quick two-minute trek to the mysterious social room. The door is nothing new, so when it opens, Erik’s jaw drops. “Wow, this place is so much bigger than I thought it would be.”

Erik steps inside, amazed by the beauty. There are no white walls here. Instead they are painted with vibrant, realistic murals of space and landmarks of Sjel, some of which Erik recognizes from his time spent on the computer in his room. There is a jungle scene filled with giant purple flowers the size of a man, a mountain range with a pink-toned rock, and a creature that looks a lot like a tiger, but with strange insect-like feelers on its head and white stripes instead of black. The room is furnished not only with circular tables and close-set couches, but also with fountains and even a waterfall that springs out of a small crag in the jungle scene. Sculptures of a man and woman in uniform, with plaques at their feet written in Sjelian, stand at the heart of the room, as if keeping an eye on things. Erik looks all around, even at the ceiling, and lets out a wonderstruck laugh at the hyper-realistic depiction above his head. “It looks like the night sky,” he says, and then feels foolish, realizing Aleria sees this every day.

Erik heads for a chair near the jungle scene waterfall. This seat looks more like a fancy recliner from Earth. When he sits on it, it feels like memory foam but better, even more comfortable than the sling chairs. The covering doesn’t feel like typical leather, but rather a cross between leather and velvet. He settles in with a contended sigh and watches pale blue and green strobe lights dance across the waterfall.

Aleria sits on a couch nearby and gives Erik a tentative smile. “What do you think?”

“This place is not what I expected. It’s… beautiful.” He watches a group of Sjelians talking a few feet away, each with a glass in their hand. Erik perks up when he sees the light blue liquid through the clear cups. “I thought you said Sjelians don’t eat or drink in public.” He points at the glasses.

Aleria shakes her head. “I didn’t say anything about drinks.”

“What are they drinking?” Erik licks his lips at the prospect of consuming something more enjoyable than the food cubes in his room.

"It is called Slak. There is a substance in the drink that helps Sjelians relax.”

Erik chuckles. "Sounds a lot like… alcohol."

Aleria narrows her eyes. "No. It’s not like alcohol,” she says sharply, obviously offended. “It doesn’t impair motor skills or cognitive functions, and it’s not addictive.”

Erik raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything.” His eyes drift to a man nearby sipping a cup of his own. It almost looks like blue Gatorade, Erik’s favorite, and the sense of familiarity is irresistible. “Can I try it?”

"Certainly.” Aleria looks over her shoulder. “But first, there is someone else I want you to meet.” She gestures at Erik to follow her, and Erik reluctantly peels himself out of his comfortable seat. They walk to the far corner of the room, where a blonde woman sits by herself.

“Akril,” Aleria says, alerting the woman to their approach. “I’d like to introduce you to Erik.”

Akril, whose short-cropped hair is almost as severe as her face, looks at Erik without even the shadow of a smile. “You’re from Earth.”

Erik struggles to keep his smile in place as she fixes him with cold eyes. “Yes, and I believe I recognize your name. You’re… the director of planetary evaluation. You study Earth’s atmosphere.”

Akril stands up, and Erik has to tilt his head down to hold her gaze. Her puffy cheeks and petite nose and chin should make her look sweet and friendly, but her well-defined jaw and the harsh look in her deep-set brown eyes are all the more startling in their contrast. She nods, glaring at Erik as if he has insulted her simply by knowing about her work.

Erik resists the urge to look to Aleria for support. After all, if he means to stay here, he has to learn to stand on his own two feet. He tries one more time to get a genial response out of Akril. “I have a friend on Earth…” He pauses, wondering what he and his childhood friend Fresler are to each other these days. Acquaintances, at most. “This man has written several books on the environment. He believes that our environment is being destroyed because of corporate greed.”

Akril’s face smooths and her right eyebrow raises just a hair. “I would love to meet this friend of yours. He sounds brilliant.”

“Unfortunately, unless he walks through a portal, I doubt you’ll get the chance.” Since Akril seems to have softened a little, Erik continues, “I would love to hear your thoughts on my planet—what exactly you study, and what conclusions you’ve drawn.”

Akril’s eyes narrow again. “Conclusions,” she repeats. “I have concluded that the people of Earth are not ready for the technology they’ve developed.”

Erik tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“The human brain is continually evolving. There will be a point when the people of Earth will no longer be driven by power and greed. Eventually, there won’t be any violence on Earth. Until that happens, the technology you possess is inevitably going to be used for destructive purposes. War. Violence.”

Erik tightens his jaw to match hers. “As a scientist whose life has been dedicated to using technology for the greater good, I disagree.”

Akril forces a smile that looks more like a sneer. “How many weapons do you have on Earth?”

Erik shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Millions.” Akril scoffs, almost too soft to hear. “On Sjel, we have none. Every single day, thousands of people die from violence on Earth. That is not the case on Sjel.”

“I don’t disagree that there is violence, but not everyone on Earth is violent.”

“Perhaps, but your leaders certainly are. You cannot trust your leaders to make decisions that are in the best interest of everyone on Earth.” Akril puts a fist on her hip and looks Erik over like a specimen under a microscope. “Your technological developments have far outpaced your evolution.”

Erik glares right back at her. “What does that even mean?”

Aleria brushes Erik’s arm with a finger, drawing his eyes to her. “Sjelians didn’t develop technology until we had been in existence for over a million years. The humans on Earth have only been in existence for two hundred thousand years. Your kind has advanced at a much quicker rate. At two hundred thousand years old, Sjelians would have been considered primitive, as compared to the people of Earth now.”

“Why did it take Sjelians so long to develop technology?” asks Erik, sidetracked by the unexpected revelation.

Akril cuts over Aleria. “There are different theories. Most believe it has to do with the differences between our two planets.”

“Which are…?” Erik asks.

“Sjel would be considered a paradise, in comparison to Earth,” Akril says as though it should be obvious. “On Sjel, over eighty percent of the planet has ideal weather. The temperatures do not vary by more than twenty degrees. The majority of your planet has freezing temperatures at some point during the year, but on Sjel the temperatures don’t drop below sixty-five degrees. Your ancestors had to think of ways to stay warm just to survive. We never had to worry about surviving harsh summers or winters. There was also an abundance of food and water on Sjel. We never had to be innovative or creative in order to make sure we could feed ourselves. The people of Earth were forced to use their cognitive abilities early on in order to survive. This led to technological developments. Sjelians were never forced to develop technology to survive, so we didn’t develop it until much later…” She pauses for dramatic effect. “After we’d evolved emotionally.”

“Interesting theory,” Erik says, meaning it. “But I’m not sure it proves your point.”

Akril’s eyes spark with anger, and she opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, Aleria clears her throat.

“Erik, you said that you wanted to try some Slak?”

“I did.” Erik spares Akril a glance and tries to sound genuine as he says, “It was nice meeting you, Akril.”

She gives a curt nod in return, her mouth a hard line.

As Erik and Aleria walk to the large drink table set up against the back wall, Erik observes, “I get the feeling that Akril is not a fan of the people of Earth.”

“Don’t take it personally.” Aleria smiles. “Akril is not… warm.”

Erik barks out a surprised laugh. “I’d say not. Well, after that conversation, I definitely need to try some Slak.”

They approach the tall drink dispenser and grab glasses from the table. Erik holds his glass under the dispenser and watches it fill with the blue liquid. Aleria then fills her glass and starts to raise it to her mouth, but Erik stops her by gently placing his hand on her arm.

“Wait… it’s an Earth custom to toast before drinking.”

Aleria nods. “I am aware of that custom, although it’s not something that Sjelians do. What do you want to toast to?”

Erik pauses for a moment, then lifts his glass and says, “To us.” He flushes as he realizes how intimate that sounds, and amends, “To learning more about each other.” Not much better. “The people of Earth, and Sjel, I mean.” To his relief, Aleria simply nods and clinks her glass against his.

Erik takes a sip, and then a wide-eyed gulp, forgetting his embarrassment. “This is incredible. I had low expectations, considering how bad the food tastes… but this is amazing!”

Aleria laughs harder than Erik would have imagined she could, covering her mouth as she throws back her head. Despite the fact that he can still hear Kristin’s voice in his ears and see his daughter’s beautiful face in his mind’s eye, Erik is captivated by Aleria’s laughter. He can’t help but join her.

Chapter 20

August 21st, 2017

Erik steps out of the shower, dripping onto the bath mat, and takes note of his rumbling stomach as he snatches up an impossibly soft towel. He begrudgingly heads for the food dispenser. He holds a ration in front of his wrinkled nose before taking a reluctant bite of the gray so-called food and shaking his head.

This sucks.

After he eats his cube, he heads out to meet Aleria in the evaluation center, making his way there on his own this time—he only takes two wrong turns. As Erik enters her office, she looks up and says, “How did you sleep?”

Erik gives her a thumbs up. “Sleep isn’t the issue… it’s the food.”

“As I said… you’ll get used to it.”

Erik rolls his eyes. “If you say so.”

“Have you started accessing the language program, so you can learn Sjelian?”

Erik nods, dropping into a chair across from her. “I spent a few hours looking it over yesterday and then a little more this morning. I think I finally figured out the key. The conjugation was throwing me off, because I was looking at it wrong, but now I’ve got it. It won’t take me much longer to start chatting with you in your native tongue.”

She smiles playfully at Erik, clearly not convinced. “Really? We have found that it takes years for the people of Earth to learn a new language. Your Broca’s area of the brain is underdeveloped.”

Erik chuckles. “That may be true for some, but I have always had the ability to pick things up quickly. I learned how to speak fluent Spanish in less than two months.”

Aleria’s brows narrow. “That’s impossible.” She shakes her head. “Sjelians could learn a language in that time, but we also have an advantage: millions of years of evolution. It’s simply not possible for you to learn our language that quickly.”

Erik extends his hand over her desk. “Okay… I’ll bet you that I can speak the Sjelian language in less than two months.”

She stares at his hand, keeping her own on her lap. “I’m not going to place a bet, because what you propose can’t be done.”

Erik just smiles and says, “We’ll see.”

She squints at him like he’s a puzzle with missing pieces and, without looking at her virtual keyboard, enters in a few commands on her computer. A holographic picture of a planet appears on her computer screen. “I wanted to talk with you about this planet.”

Erik rises up out of his chair, leaning over the desk with interest and excitement. “It looks like Earth… except it has more land.”

“That’s not surprising, considering it’s a lot like Earth. Our probes discovered it two years ago. We believe that humans inhabit this planet.”

Erik’s jaw drops. “That’s amazing,” he says through a giddy laugh. “How did you discover it?”

“We have millions of probes searching different galaxies for signs of life. Every year, we receive multiple messages from these probes indicating that a planet has the potential to sustain human life. We then send out exploratory vessels to these planets to confirm that there is indeed life present. Unfortunately, each time the results are the same. The planet’s environment is just too harsh to sustain human life.”

“How do you know this will be any different?” Erik points to the image of the planet.

“This probe sent back an electronic message that emanated from the planet. This is the first time our probes have received an electronic message. We are extremely excited. In one month, an exploratory vessel will be docking with this space station. Fifty-two of us will be boarding the vessel to begin a four-year mission to determine if there is human life on this planet.” She smiles at the holographic picture, and her expression is loving and full of wonder, like a mother looking at an ultrasound of her child. “If there is, then we’ll need to decide if an observation station like this one should be established.”

“That’s exciting.” Erik smiles at Aleria, suddenly very conscious of how close their faces are. A familiar heat warms his chest—attraction. Guilt follows swiftly behind, hitting Erik like a needle jab to the heart. He moves away fast, landing back in his seat with an oof. To cover his awkward behavior, he says, “It sounds like you’re planning to go.”

She nods. “Yes, I am. Theran will be leading the mission. Many of the other people you’ve met will also be participating.”

“Will I be assigned another counselor while you’re gone?”

Aleria studies Erik with a hopeful expression. “Have you decided to stay with us… or will you return to Earth?”

The question fills Erik with turmoil. He’s not yet ready to deal with the slew of warring emotions inside him. “I’m not sure…”

“This may impact your decision: the General Council has agreed to allow you to join us on this mission.”

Erik feels sucker-punched. He points to his chest. “Me? Why would they allow me to go?”

Aleria takes a deep breath and lets it out in a puff that vibrates her pouting lips. “I don’t know. We were all surprised by their decision.” Her expression turns sly. “None more than Akril.”

Erik chuckles but then furrows his brow. “What is the General Council?”

“The General Council governs our planet. They create our tenets—our laws—and they execute them. There are thirteen members on the Council. Akril’s mother is a current councilmember.”

“Are they elected?”

Aleria shakes her head. “No. Sjel is not a democracy.”

“Then who decides who leads?”

“When someone on the Council steps down and leaves an opening, the remaining members choose the most qualified candidate to fill the vacancy.”

“How do they decide who’s qualified?”

“When a Sjelian reaches the age of fifty, they are allowed to take a comprehensive set of exams designed to test their intelligence, judgment, and common sense. There is also a required neuroimaging exam. Only the most qualified candidates are interviewed by the Council. Typically, there are between one and two hundred candidates in the running.”

“Hmm.” Erik leans back in his seat, hands folded over his stomach. “That’s interesting. There isn’t a single country on Earth that has a form of government like that.”

“Sjel itself is a single nation.”

Erik blinks. “The whole planet?”

“Yes. Once, there were competing nations on Sjel. They were all democracies.”

Erik perks up like a hunting dog on point. “Competing nations? As in, at war with one another? I thought Sjelians had eliminated war and violence.”

“Your planet has one hundred and ninety-five separate countries. All of them compete for Earth’s limited resources, and many have different political and religious beliefs. This has led to thousands of conflicts. Before we formed a single nation on Sjel, the situation was similar.”

Erik nods. “So… you believe that war could be eliminated if there is a single nation?”

“We believe that removing competition between nations is one factor that eliminated war on Sjel,” Aleria corrects him gently. “War won’t be eliminated on Earth until the people of Earth evolve emotionally.”

“Well,” Erik concedes, “it’s a nice theory. But we’ll never know for certain because there will never be just one nation on Earth.”

“Perhaps not soon,” Aleria says. “But one day.” She taps her desk, pulling his attention back to the image of the Earth-like planet. “Let me tell you more about our exploratory mission.”

Chapter 21

September 4th, 2017

Stephan walks down the stairs of his childhood home, his hand light on the old, familiar railing. He and Kristin used to race to the top of the stairs and then jump on this railing, sliding down with thighs clenched tight around the polished wood. As he reaches the bottom three steps and glances into the living room, he sees his parents on the couch, whispering to each other. At the sound of his feet on the bottom step, they grow silent.

Stephan twists his lips into a smile and says, “I’m leaving now. I should be back by Wednesday.”

Olafur stands up as Stephan draws closer. He puts his hand on Stephan’s shoulder and says, “Your mother and I would like to talk with you before you leave.”

Stephan takes a seat on the couch next to his mom, worried it may be a conversation about her health. “Is everything okay?”

Hanna glances at her husband and then gives Stephan a tight smile. “Yes… your father and I are… concerned about you. Ever since Erik passed away—.”

Stephan’s hand shoots up like a traffic conductor. “No!” He checks himself, taking a long breath, and then lowers his voice. “Erik is not dead. He’s… missing. I need to keep looking for him.”

Olafur and Hanna share another glance, and Stephan is transported back to his teen years when he asked for a motorcycle instead of a car. They’d sat him down in the kitchen and given their refusal speech in between glances just like that.

“It has been more than two weeks since he… disappeared,” says Olafur. “The Akureyri police haven’t found any signs of him in that cave, or in the surrounding wilderness.”

Stephan puts a hand to his face with a sigh, leaning his elbow on his thigh as he discreetly wipes away the tear forming in the corner of his eye. “That’s exactly why I have to keep looking. If I have to… I’ll fly out there every single day until he is found.”

Olafur shakes his head. “He didn’t take his backpack. It was still in his tent. He left everything behind, and he didn’t say good-bye. That is not a man who wants to be found.”

“I don’t care. I need to keep looking for him.”

“You might not like what you find,” Hanna says in a low voice. Her statement sucks the air from the cozy room. Stephan gasps like he’s been stabbed in the side. After a beat, Hanna puts her hand on her son’s knee. “Stephan, we love you more than you could ever know. We want you to move on with your life. You have a wonderful career back in the US.”

Stephan stares at the ceiling, hands dangling dejectedly between his legs as he tries to blink back the tears. But the pain is too strong, and they stream down his cheeks. He tucks his chin to his chest, leans into hands, and covers his face. “I miss them all… so much,” he chokes out, back shuddering with the force of his sobs.

Olafur puts his arm around Stephan. “So do we, son. So do we.” He looks across the couch at Hanna. “But we don’t want to lose you, too. And that’s what this search could become. You could get lost in it.”

Hanna sighs deeply, eyes swimming with her own grief. “We want what’s best for you, Stephan. But… if you feel you need more time, then you can stay as long as you want.”

“Thank you,” Stephan manages. He lets his parents hold him as his tears slowly dry.

Chapter 22

September 4th, 2017

Erik leans against the arm of his comfortable chair in the Setustofa room. With a fountain gurgling pleasantly beside him and a cup of Slak in one hand, he feels… content. Not at home—and certainly not at peace. But happy enough. Just over two weeks into his time with the Sjelians, and just over a month since the worst day of his life, happy enough is, well, enough.

He uses his free hand to animate a story of his childhood to Aleria, who listens with a gentle smile. He has just gotten to the part where a friend was creamed with a dodge ball when Kralo appears at his shoulder. “Hello, Erik.”

Erik tries to suppress his laughter at his own story as he looks over and says, “Hi, Kralo.”

Aleria’s brow is furrowed at the mildly violent twist to Erik’s story. Clearly, she doesn’t find throwing balls at other people to be a laughing matter. Stephan would have laughed with me, Erik thinks, his chest tightening. Of everything he left behind, he misses his outgoing best friend the most. He wonders how Stephan is doing, in his absence. He hopes he’s moving on with his life.

“Only fourteen days before the exploration vessel docks.” Kralo looks at Erik. “Are you planning to join us?”

Aleria tilts her head, fixing Erik with a thoughtful look that makes him flush. “Have you decided, Erik?”

Erik looks between them, and then says, in Sjelian, “Yes. I would like to join the mission. It sounds… exciting.”

Kralo lets out a surprised bark of a laugh, brows jumping. He responds back in Sjelian, “Wow. I’m impressed. Can you also read Sjelian?”

Erik holds out a hand and tilts it side to side. “A little.”

Aleria stares at Erik, hardly blinking. Three faint lines crease her forehead like miniature streams. “How many hours each day are you studying our language?”

“Eight hours a day.” Erik shrugs, switching to English. “I can’t do much else around here until I understand the language, right?”

“Your progress is remarkable,” Aleria observes.

Erik smiles wide. “Thanks,” he says in Sjelian, and then drops into English again. “So… how long will it take for us to travel to this planet?”

Kralo responds, “A little less than three years.”

“How many miles is it from here?”

“It’s five hundred million light years.”

Erik gapes. “It’s so hard to believe that we can reach this planet in less than three years, when we can’t travel the speed of light. It seems impossible.”

Kralo nods, hands thrust in his pockets. “We’ve already established two portals that we’ll use to traverse the distance.”

Aleria stands up abruptly. “I’m going to get another drink.” Her heels tap a rapid rhythm on the floor as she walks away.

Kralo watches Aleria leave, sorrow flickering across his smooth face.

Erik studies Kralo’s expression and then looks over his shoulder at Aleria. “What’s wrong? Is she upset?”

“Her life partner died while traveling through a portal.”

“Her life partner?”

“We don’t enter into legal marriages on Sjel.”

Erik chews his lip as he realizes that he and Aleria have more in common than he could have imagined. “He died while traveling through a portal? They’re not safe?”

“There’s always a small risk that the portal will collapse. It’s rare… but it does happen.”

As Aleria rejoins them and settles into her chair, Erik quickly changes the subject. He certainly understands not wanting to talk about something painful. “What will happen when we reach this planet?”

Kralo doesn’t miss a beat, acting as if this was their topic of discussion all along. “When we arrive at the edge of its solar system, we’ll launch several probes toward the planet to gather information. We’ll need to determine if there are humans inhabiting the planet, and how advanced they are.”

“How long will it take us to get to the edge of the solar system?”

“It will take twenty-nine days to reach the first portal. We will then travel for 549 days before we reach the second portal. After that, it will take an additional 430 days before we reach the planet’s solar system.”

Erik does the calculations in his head. “That’s almost three years. If the observation portion of the mission is supposed to last four years, we won’t be back here for… nine and a half years.”

Kralo nods.

Erik tilts his head. “Why are there two portals? Can’t we make the complete jump through one? After all, I only came through one portal to get here.”

“There are limitations on—” Kralo begins, but Aleria cuts him off.

“It’s late.” She jumps to her feet so quickly that her drink sloshes over the edge of her cup. “I’m going to get some sleep.” She looks at Erik, not sparing a glance at the minor spill on the floor. “Are you going to stay?”

He studies her. He’s begun to learn the subtle variations of her moods over the past two weeks, but he’s never seen her this visibly agitated. It worries him. “No,” he says, with an apologetic glance at Kralo. “I’ll go with you back to the living quarters.”

They walk side by side through the blank, empty hallways. Erik spends the walk trying to figure out how to ask her if she’s all right without revealing that he knows about her life partner. When they reach Aleria’s door, Erik begins, “Aleria—”

“Good night, Erik.” With a sharp nod of her chin, Aleria shuts the door in his face.

Chapter 23

September 20th, 2017

Aleria stands perfectly straight in the doorway to Erik’s room, waiting for him to get ready. Though her face is relaxed, she does not lean against the wall or recline in a seat. Sjelians never seem to rest—or even begin to indulge in laziness—outside of the Setustofa room.

“Just make sure that you pack everything in that bag,” she says, pointing a pristinely manicured fingernail at the small leather pouch on his bed.

“I don’t have much to pack.” Erik looks around the room with a shrug that is sadder than he’d intended. He has only the rumpled clothes he was wearing when he came through the portal, two pairs of the space station uniform (one turtleneck in white and one in navy), his PAD, his cell phone, and the watch Kristin gave him. A few days ago, Aleria asked him why he still wore the gold wristwatch, when the PAD tells the time. He shrugged it off as an old habit. The truth is, he wears the watch much like a talisman. He only takes it off to shower, and many mornings he wakes with the impression of its circular face on his cheek.

Erik is still not ready to open up to anyone on board about Kristin and Eria. Their memory is sacred to him, and although he now knows that Aleria lost someone close to her as well, he can’t help but cling tightly to his own secrets.

But soon, perhaps. He’ll know when the time is right.

“We’ll need to check you in at the docking station before noon and get your room assignment,” Aleria says now, a hint of impatience in her voice.

“What about you?”

“I’ve already checked in.”

Erik stuffs his second pair of slacks into the modest pouch and then slings it over his shoulder. “When will the exploration vessel depart?”

“Not until 8 p.m. Theran will give his presentation to the crew immediately before the vessel leaves the docking station.”

Erik follows Aleria into the hall and turns back for one last look at the resort-like room, with its hidden oddities and advancements.

I can’t believe I spent the last thirty-one days in that room.

Despite his relatively short stay there, it already feels like someone else’s life, or perhaps like something he read once, long ago. The sensation is not unfamiliar—he feels much the same about the life he had on Earth, before tragedy struck. But in this case, he marvels at how quickly he developed a strange affinity for the space, like a favorite reading nook in a well-loved summer home. He fears that nothing will ever feel like that again.

“Will I be able to access the same programs?” he asks, trying to keep all traces of anxiety out of his voice. “All of my videos and pictures were downloaded onto that computer.”

Aleria smiles that warm, gentle smile he’s grown so accustomed to. It makes this clinical, alien place feel strikingly more human. “Yes, everything will be transferred to your new room,” she says gently, and looks at him in that intent way she sometimes does, as though she can sense every emotion he’s trying to hide.

Aleria leads the way, as usual. Erik has memorized a few routes through the vessel, like the paths to Aleria’s office and the Setustofa room, but any new or forgotten turn in the monotonous halls still spells instant confusion and a quick SOS call to Aleria.

As she heads for the docking station, Erik feels a spark of excitement ignite in his chest. It has been flickering for days now, but finally the moment has come, and the fire of curiosity and exploration warms him with its strong blaze. This is why he became a researcher, instead of a physician like his brother-in-law. He craves the new. He thrives on explaining the inexplicable. He leans in toward Aleria with a child-like, unabashed grin. “I can’t believe we are going to board an exploration vessel that will be traveling millions of light-years… to a planet that humans inhabit.”

“We can’t be certain that we’ll find a human civilization,” says Aleria, voice like a patient kindergarten teacher.

Erik sighs. “You know what I mean.” It’s like pulling teeth getting any emotion other than “calm and collected” out of these people. Genuine, spontaneous excitement? Forget it.

Aleria turns abruptly into a wide room with one of the space station’s customary wall-length windows at the back. This one shows not only the terrifying beauty of open space, but also a thin landing strip sticking out into the void. Made of the same, marble-like material, it looks like one of the white space station walls has fallen out into space. Dozens of people, tiny at this distance, walk along the landing strip. They wear silvery space suits, complete with sleek metallic helmets, and are shuttling luggage and other supplies to a vessel that looks like the space station in miniature.

Aleria taps Erik’s shoulder to get his attention, and it is only then that he realizes he’s gawking. Clearing his throat in mild embarrassment, he follows her to one of the long, white marble check-in tables lined up in the center of the room.

A shiny-pated Sjelian with silvery eyebrows looks at them with a mildly bored expression as they approach. In one hand, he clutches a slender, rectangular scanning device. He holds out his other hand and blinks expectantly at Erik from behind the holographic screen that’s painting blue Sjelian words and numbers across his face.

Aleria nudges Erik. “Hand him your PAD.” She gestures like a mother coaxing her shy three-year-old to say hello to another child at the park.

Erik hands it over, with flashbacks of Earth airport security rolling through his mind. Thinking of the airport makes him think of the veiled woman. He hasn’t thought about her in weeks. It’s like his mind keeps nudging him away from the memory. He shivers, and his shoulders twitch. Aleria gives him a concerned look as the man scans the PAD and consults his holographic screen. He then reaches into a metal bin lined with black, spongy packing and pulls out another PAD. He hands Erik the new and the old wristbands, and then waves the two of them out of the way for his next guest.

“Why do I get two PADs?” Erik asks Aleria, holding them at shoulder height and flicking his eyes between them to try and discern a difference.

“You probably won’t need it, but just in case you lose this one or it malfunctions, you’ll have a spare.” She grabs his spare PAD and examines it for a moment. “Let me see what room you have.” She smiles. “Good, it’s close to mine. Let’s go to our rooms.”

Erik looks out the window to see that the vessel has left the landing strip and is now docked parallel to the space station, its sides gently bumping a long tunnel that leads from the check-in room to the vessel’s main door. Following Aleria’s example, Erik scans his pad at the sleek door in the back corner of the check-in room, and they are admitted into the boarding tunnel. There is no gap between the tunnel and the vessel, and the only discernable marker between the white tunnel floor and the white ship floor is a strip of blinking blue lights set into the threshold. Crossing over the blinking line, Erik pauses to look back, though there is really nothing to see.

He shakes his head and says, “It’s hard to believe I entered that station through a wormhole.”

Erik follows Aleria through a new white maze that he will have to memorize. They take one of the two main hallways leading to the center of the vessel. The haze of white and silver ends at room number sixty-four.

“This is your room, Erik. Mine is sixty-two.” She points to the adjacent door. Erik waves his PAD by the access panel and the door opens.

He blinks at it a moment, brow furrowed. “It looks exactly the same.” Erik walks in, drops his bag on the floor, and looks around. He opens the food dispenser. “Food looks the same.” He rolls his eyes.

“All of the rooms are identical,” says Aleria, “but there are only seventy rooms on this vessel.”

“How many people will board?”

“Fifty-two.”

Erik nods, poking out his bottom lip. How strange, he thinks, smiling at his previous sentimentality. It’s like I didn’t go anywhere new at all. Just did a lap around the ship.

“Let’s go to the evaluation center,” Aleria says, smiling. “I have a surprise for you.”

Erik’s brows rise, but he waits patiently as Aleria quickly drops her things off in her room. Though one of the turns is different, Erik recognizes the path they’re taking by the room numbers and door labels they’re passing. The evaluation center is the same as in the larger station, just slightly shrunken. Erik heads straight for the center office on the back wall but stops halfway when he realizes Aleria is no longer next to him. He turns in a half circle and finds her leaning against another office door on the left wall, arms crossed and mouth upturned in a grin. He changes direction and joins her.

“Wave your PAD by the access panel,” she says.

Erik looks at her sideways as he waves his PAD. The door slides open, and Aleria steps aside for him. He studies her amused, expectant expression.

“This is my office?”

She nods and a soft laugh, almost a giggle, escapes through her lips.

He steps inside with his mouth slightly ajar and eyes alight, like a child stepping through the gates of the county fair. “How did you arrange this?”

“I talked to Theran, and he agreed that you should have your own office. If you can master our language by the time we reach the planet, you can help us analyze the data we receive from the surface. The General Council believes that your insight may be helpful. That is why they wanted you to be part of this mission. You bring a unique experience that none of us have.”

“Because I’m not Sjelian?”

“Indeed. Because you are not Sjelian.” She blinks as she says it, and Erik recognizes one of her emotional “tells.” There’s something she’s not saying.

“That’s the only reason they agreed to let me join the mission?” Erik prods.

“That, and your training as a neuroscientist,” Aleria confirms.

Erik is not entirely sure he believes her. “Well, thank you for the office.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s see what the Setustofa room looks like.”

They walk out of the evaluation center, nearly colliding with Akril as she turns the corner.

“Hello, Akril.” Erik tries a friendly smile, hoping to thaw the ice in her eyes, but she just glares at him and doesn’t say a word as she passes them by. Erik follows her with his eyes, shaking his head. “She clearly hates me.”

“She doesn’t know you well enough to hate you.” Aleria puts a hand on her hip and sighs. “She’s upset with the General Council, more than anything else.”

“For letting me join the mission?” Erik asks.

Aleria’s silence is enough of an answer, so Erik lets it go. They retrace Akril’s steps down the hall, away from the living quarters. They turn a corner and continue along a corridor that feels familiar—except that there’s an additional door. On the space station, there were only two doors in this half of the hallway.

Erik tries to decipher the writing on the doorway. “What’s in there?”

“That’s where Theran stores his relics.”

“Relics?”

Aleria opens the door with her PAD. Erik lets out a soft chuckle as he steps into what looks like an eccentric collector’s garage, or maybe a cluttered warehouse.

“This place is amazing,” he says, feeling a sudden rush of nostalgia.

There are toy cars with clunky remotes laid against their shiny sides. Real cars from multiple eras—a souped-up ’20s Ford Coupe next to a 2015 Corvette Stingray. Statues of all shapes and sizes—a young boy blowing into a pan flute atop a tall rock, and an old fat man bending to pat a dog’s head. A Victorian dress complete with a corset and fanned-out skirt stands on a manikin next to a purple leisure suit and a snazzy, tailored black three-piece. A boom box sits next to a surround-sound system, and TVs of all sizes rest silently in a row in a testament to the advancement of both technology and time.

“I thought that Sjelians weren’t allowed to visit Earth’s surface,” says Erik.

“They’re not.”

“Then… how did Theran get these things?” He waves his arms to indicate the jumbled collection.

“He had them made,” says Aleria with a wistful smile. “They are exact replicas.”

Erik’s brows raise. “Why?”

Aleria blinks—there’s that “tell” again. “I’m not sure.”

Erik steps further into the room, his fingers fanned out at his sides to brush against the familiar objects. He picks up an old CD player and puts on the headphones, but when he pops open the disc holder there is nothing inside. He sets it down and then points at the statue of the barefooted boy drawing fairies, children, and animals to his rock with his pan flute. “I recognize that… the statue. It’s the Peter Pan Statue in Kensington Gardens.” He crouches beside an older-model TV and recalls watching VHS movies in his youth. He goes deeper still and freezes when he sees an overstuffed bookshelf. It reminds him of his daughter’s bookshelf. Of reading her favorite stories to her at bedtime. Guess how much I love you, he thinks.

He takes in a ragged breath. Eria…

From behind him, Aleria says, “Erik?”

“I’m fine,” he says, voice tight. He turns to meet Aleria’s concerned eyes.

“Let’s go,” she says. “We can come back another time.”

* * *

After a shower, an unsatisfactory meal, and a few hours of self-imposed Sjelian lessons, Erik joins Aleria and the rest of the crew in the operations room near the front of the vessel. It looks like a large conference room, with its rows of long tables lined with mesh chairs, but a platform at the front looks more like a theatre stage. Theran and the other directors stand on the platform, talking amongst themselves behind a podium. Behind them, the two-hundred-foot window provides a view of the space station as an impressive backdrop. Aleria and Erik settle near the head of the center table, toward the front of the room and the platform.

Aleria leans in to talk softly at Erik’s ear. “Theran will be giving his presentation to the crew in a few minutes.” She purses her lips. “Sorry, but it will be in Sjelian.”

“I think I’ll understand most of what he says,” Erik says, hoping his confidence is warranted. Other than a few practice conversations with Aleria, Kralo, and a few other crew members, Erik hasn’t had much opportunity to put his Sjelian knowledge to use.

Aleria gives him a close-lipped grin.

The lights blink off and on again, and Aleria looks up as the chatter around the table dies down. “He’s going to speak now.”

Theran steps to the podium. Erik cannot see a microphone, but when Theran begins speaking in Sjelian, his voice is loud and clear, bouncing off the back wall. “It has been exactly seven hundred and thirty days since our probes first detected an electronic message emanating from a planet located in a quadrant of the universe that we have never explored before,” he says, and Erik feels a thrill when he realizes he’s able to comprehend every word. “We are all excited to make this journey,” Theran continues, “and are hopeful that we will discover human life. Since we have started traveling outside our own solar system, we have discovered thousands of planets capable of sustaining human life, but only two”—his eyes flicker toward Erik—“have had the perfect environment needed for humans to thrive. Hopefully this will be the third, and hopefully it will provide us with the answers that we all seek about the universe… and the reason for our existence.”

Theran pauses for a moment, looking out at the crew with a fatherly expression, full of both pride and concern. “We all know how dangerous this journey will be. We will be traveling through two portals and into uncharted territories. We don’t know what to expect, so I wanted to tell each and every one of you how proud I am that you volunteered to be part of this mission. I know you are sacrificing a lot to be here, especially those of you that have loved ones back on Sjel. As you know, you won’t be able to communicate with them for nine and a half years.” He lets a beat pass before finishing, “I believe the sacrifice will be worth it, and that this will be a rewarding experience for all of us. Thank you.”

Aleria turns to Erik. “Sorry… I’m sure you couldn’t understand what he was saying.”

“You still doubt me?” Erik smiles at Aleria. “I understood everything he said. Seven hundred and thirty days since the probe. Answers about the universe and the reason for our existence. No one will be able to communicate with their loved ones for over nine years. That’s going to be difficult…” He looks at his hands folded on the table. “For those with family.”

Aleria gapes at him in disbelief, leaning away from him in her chair like he might have something contagious. “How is it possible that you could understand what he was saying? You first boarded the space station thirty-one days ago.”

Erik chuckles. “I told you that I could learn this language in less than two months.”

Aleria looks back up at the platform. “I don’t understand,” she murmurs.

“I’m good at languages. What is there to understand?” Erik touches Aleria’s shoulder. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

She shakes her head without looking at him.

Erik decides to change the subject. He stares out the window at the space station. “Are we going to stay and watch as this vessel leaves the docking station?”

“If you’d like.”

“I would.” Erik gets to his feet and walks to the stage. After a moment, Aleria follows him. From this angle, Erik can see the massive mechanical arms locking the vessel onto the space station. He puts a hand on the glass. “This is all so surreal. I am billions of miles from Earth, on board an exploration vessel that will be traveling millions of light years to a planet that could sustain human life... and I’m looking at a space station that I traveled to… through a worm hole.” He lets his hand fall away from the window. “I keep thinking that I’m dreaming and will wake up soon.” He looks over at Aleria. “Is this real?”

Aleria tilts her head. “Erik, you’ve been here for thirty-one days. At this point, why would you question whether this is real?”

Erik stares at the docking station. “Because…” He heaves a sigh that sags his shoulders, his mind flickering again to the woman in black. “I’ve had trouble distinguishing reality from imagination in the past.”

Aleria gently pushes him back from the window so that she can look him in the eyes, blocking his view of the station. “What do you mean?”

“When I was eighteen, after my mom passed away, I saw a woman that didn’t exist. I had a conversation with her.” He swallows hard. “I saw her again a few weeks ago.”

“How do you know she didn’t exist?”

“Funny, that’s the same question that Reshal asked me when I told him about it.”

Aleria’s brows raise. “You mentioned this to Reshal?”

“Yes… after I boarded. The woman was also in the dream I had before I woke up in the evaluation center, so it was fresh on my mind.”

“What did you tell Reshal?”

“That I think I’m delusional. I know the woman didn’t exist, because when I saw her, no one else could see or interact with her.”

Aleria opens her mouth to respond but closes it again as a loud voice comes over invisible speakers. “We will be leaving the docking station in fifty seconds,” intones the pleasant female voice.

The floor vibrates the soles of Erik’s shoes, tickling his feet. A deep, rhythmic hum fills the room, and Erik imagines the vessel is a giant, gentle beast waking from hibernation with a long yawn. More crew members join Aleria and Erik near the window to watch as the long connection arm emanating from the space station starts to lift off from the exploration vessel’s docking base. After the connection arm has cleared, the exploration vessel starts to move sideways, like a boat leaving the dock of a lake. Once the exploration vessel is at a safe distance from the space station, the vibrating stops. Erik lingers at the window as the rest of the crew strolls leisurely toward the exit. With a low rumble, the vessel accelerates, and the space station vanishes in a blink, left far behind in an instant.

“Are we—we’re moving forward now?” Erik asks. At Aleria’s nod, he marvels, “I didn’t feel a thing. How fast are we going?”

“We’re probably going about two hundred times the speed of sound.”

Erik’s jaw nearly touches his chest. “Two hundred times faster than sound?”

She smiles but seems a little distracted. “Yes. Eventually we will increase our speed to seven hundred thousand times the speed of sound.” She touches his upper arm. “Can you find your way back to your office and room on your own? I need to stop by my office to check on something.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks.” As Aleria walks away, Erik goes over to sit in the chair closest to the window. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he stares out into the vastness of the sky. Two months ago, he was in St. John. Two months ago, all of this would have been a fantasy.

But as Aleria said, it’s very real.

* * *

Aleria leans forward over her desk, squinting at Erik’s neuroimaging results. Lina does the same on the other side of the desk.

Aleria points to the left inferior frontal cortex of the holographic brain, just above and behind the left eye. “Do you see this? The Broca’s area is not developed. Erik shouldn’t be capable of learning our language in such a short period of time.”

Lina nods, rubbing at her bottom lip with a finger. “Maybe there’s another explanation.”

“There has to be another explanation.” Aleria pauses, debating whether to confide in Lina. After chewing on her lip for a moment, she says, “There’s something else. He just mentioned seeing a woman… that he said didn’t actually exist. He’s seen her twice: once following the death of his mother, when he was eighteen, and a second time more recently. He thinks he’s delusional.”

Lina looks over the image with a well-trained eye and says, “There’s nothing here to indicate he would be prone to hallucinations.”

“I agree. There are no signs of brain injury and no abnormalities in the left temporal lobe.” Aleria sits back and folds her arms. She considers everything she knows about the man to whom she feels the strangest… pull. “The way he describes the incidents,” she begins, reluctant to say what’s on her mind. “It’s as if Erik has… telepathic perception.”

It’s Lina’s turn to shake her head. “Aleria, that’s impossible. Only Sjelians have that ability.”

“I know.” Aleria’s eyes meet Lina’s, her face unusually grave. “We need to run duplicate exams.”

“Reshal would never agree to it.”

“Reshal doesn’t need to know.”

* * *

In the Setustofa room, Erik scans the accoutrements, looking for anything different here from the room in the space station. He has made it a game. He pauses on the statue of the woman at the center of the room, wondering to himself if she’s looking in a different direction or if he’s just forgotten the exact tilt of her head. Deciding he’s imagining things, he looks toward the waterfall, where he sees Mandal sitting by herself. Her brown hair is still up in that painfully tight ponytail, but she looks relaxed as she scans an article in Sjelian on the holographic screen projected by her PAD. He walks over and says hi.

She smiles back at Erik, closing out the screen on her PAD. “I’m so glad you decided to join us.”

“Thanks.” He pauses for a moment, fidgeting with his watch. He’s been wanting to catch Mandal in private for weeks but could never come up with a reason to speak to her without Aleria around. “May I ask you a question about something you mentioned when we first met?”

She nods and says, “Sure… what is it?”

“You said that someone on Earth could be cured of multiple sclerosis if their splenic and vagus nerves were altered. I was wondering if that would be something that would require surgery… or could a person’s DNA be altered?”

Mandal’s eyes assess Erik’s face for a moment before she answers, “We would alter the person’s DNA. It’s the noninvasive option.”

Erik tries not to let his excitement show too blatantly on his face. “We can’t alter people’s DNA on Earth.” He chews at the inside of his cheek, fingers still fidgeting at his wrist. “Would their blood type change?”

“It could. Sjelians have different blood types, and they can change if their DNA is altered.”

“So… if someone from Earth were transported to the space station where their DNA was altered, would their blood type become Sjelian?”

Mandal’s brows raise. “Why would you ask such a question? We would never do that, Erik. It would violate a fundamental tenet.”

“I know,” says Erik, waving his hands in front of his chest, “but let’s just assume it happened.”

Mandal is clearly growing uncomfortable with the exchange, but she keeps her polite mask in place. “No. The person’s blood type wouldn’t become Sjelian. But it could change.”

“Thanks,” says Erik, with as casual a smile as he can muster.

She gives him a curt nod and returns her attention to her PAD.

Erik shoves his hands in his pockets and turns to see Aleria coming to join them. He smiles, pleased as always to see her. “Did you finish your work?” he asks when she stops beside him.

“I did,” she says with a stiff nod. “Hello, Mandal.”

The other woman nods at her, and then the three of them share an awkward silence.

Erik narrows his eyes at Aleria, perplexed. Something seems off, but it is impossible to discern between anger, stress, and exhaustion on her stoic face. “Is everything okay?” he asks her.

She answers with another stiff nod.

Erik begins to wonder if he’s done something to offend the woman he now considers to be his closest friend on board. Still studying Aleria’s ramrod posture and closed-off expression, he tries engaging her in conversation about something impersonal: their work. “I’m curious… if we can’t receive communications on this mission, does that mean there won’t be any work for us until we reach the planet?”

Aleria shakes her head. “This vessel will receive daily communications from the space station.”

“But… Theran mentioned in his speech that you won’t be able to communicate with loved ones back on Sjel.”

“A communication portal will be established for official use.” Aleria’s face remains blank as she tosses a lock of her long, dark hair behind her shoulder. “It will be similar to the portal that this vessel will travel through, but much smaller and much easier to create.”

Erik nods, understanding. “How long will it take for us to receive a message sent from the space station?”

“The message will be sent through a direct portal, so it will be instantaneous.”

Erik’s eyes widen. “No delay?”

“No delay.”

“So, the duties each of you had on board the station,” Erik says. “You’ll continue working in that capacity?”

“Yes,” Mandal says.

“But I won’t have a job until we reach the new planet?” Erik asks. When Aleria doesn’t respond, he goes on, “I’ve almost learned your language. I have an office. Put me to work.” He doesn’t add that keeping busy is the only thing stopping him from drowning in his memories. He doesn’t tell her that many nights, alone in his quarters, he cries himself to sleep.

“I’ll bring it up with Theran,” Aleria says, and then excuses herself. “I’m tired. I’m going to rest.”

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Erik asks.

“Whatever you’d like,” Aleria says.

“I’ll come with you, then.” As if on cue, Erik’s stomach growls. He thinks of his food dispenser and sighs.

Aleria and Erik walk back to their rooms, and he can’t help noticing that he’s doing most of the talking. Something is clearly going on, and she doesn’t want to tell him what it is.

Erik stops in front of his door and clears his throat to grab Aleria’s attention as she opens her own. “I was wondering… do you have movies on Sjel?”

“No.”

“Really?” Erik shakes his head in mock-disappointment. “Then you’re in luck. I have a few movies downloaded on my phone. Would you like to join me?” Please join me, he thinks. I’m not ready to be alone yet.

Aleria’s stoic face brightens for a moment, as if she’s considering the idea. Then, just as quickly, her smooth mask descends. “No, thank you. I need to get some sleep. Maybe some other time.” She slips inside her room without a second glance or a goodbye.

Chapter 24

The next morning, Erik rises early and travels alone to his new office. There are no assignments from Theran yet, so he decides to give himself a job. Once settled at his desk, his first order of business is making a family photo from his phone into the background on the tablet-sized computer built into the desk. He, Kristin, and Eria stand with arms around each other, smiling in front of the glittering lake on their property. The fiery leaves of a massive maple fill the upper left corner behind Erik’s head.

He stares at the three happy faces in the photo for several minutes. He no longer feels like the Erik in the picture. Yes, he’s experienced fleeting moments of happiness since passing through the portal. He’s laughed, especially with Aleria. And yes, he’s enjoyed discovering that the universe is so much larger and more wondrous than he could have imagined. When he keeps busy, Erik is mostly able to lock his grief away.

As soon as he tells someone about his loss—as soon as he tells Aleria—that locked door won’t be quite so secure.

He makes himself open up a search program, the new window obscuring the priceless photo. He brings up a folder of dated files that have information about various test subjects from Earth. He first tries to access his own test results, but a red box materializes in the center of the screen, reading Access Denied. He next spots Timothy Claiborne’s name and clicks on it with a triumphant nod—but he gets the same access denial message. He pounds the table in frustration and walks over to Aleria’s office.

He raps the door twice with his knuckles and then opens it without waiting for a reply. He leans against her door jamb and says, “I tried to access test results, but was denied access.”

Aleria flicks her eyes up at him without raising her head from her work. “Only Sjelians can access test results.”

“What about my own?” he says, voice angrier than he intended.

“Sorry. It’s protocol.”

Erik rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense. I should have access to my own information.”

“I’ll talk to Theran. In the meantime, is there something I can look up for you?”

Erik mulls over the offer, and then pushes himself off the door jamb and takes a seat across from her. The door slides closed behind him. He looks at Aleria, thinking about how certain he is that she’s hiding something from him and how cool she was toward him last night. He wants to be cool and secretive in return, but he has to admit that he needs her help. “There is someone in your files that I believe entered the same portal that I did. I knew him. He was a volunteer for the HCP.”

Aleria narrows her eyes. “How is that possible? He would have had no memory of being here, so he wouldn’t have been able to tell you about the portal.”

Erik drums his fingers on the table as something inside him cracks open. He turns the key and lets his secrets loose. “Do you know why I entered the portal in Akureyri?”

She shakes her head.

“My wife and daughter died in a car accident seven weeks ago,” Erik says, his voice rough as it passes around the knot in his throat.

Across from him, Aleria makes a small noise of understanding.

“I lost hope. I lost the desire to go on with my life. This man, my HCP volunteer—he’d told me about the cave during one of our sessions. He said it was thought to be a portal or gateway to the afterlife. I felt that visiting it might be my only chance to see Kristin and Eria again. So, I traveled to Akureyri.”

Aleria sits straighter, her face carefully blank. “I’m sorry for your loss, Erik.”

He acknowledges her condolence with a nod, half-expecting her to tell him about her life partner in return. She doesn’t.

“As for the other man, the HCP volunteer,” Aleria says, “I don’t understand. Why would he think the Akureyri cave was a gateway to the afterlife?”

“He was terminally ill and was looking up articles on the afterlife on his computer. He came cross a website that talked about a gateway to the afterlife, in Iceland. So… he visited this cave in Akureyri. He told me he passed out at the entrance, where he saw boulders levitating. Within a year, he was cancer-free and had no signs of multiple sclerosis.”

Aleria’s lips part, but she doesn’t respond. She shakes her head slowly as she swivels around in her chair to stare out the window. “When did he enter the portal?” she says, back to him.

“It would have been around June of 2016. Earth calendar,” he clarifies needlessly. Sjelian civilization is far older, and thus marks the passage of time differently.

She pivots back and inputs some information into her desk computer. A few seconds later, an image of a brain scan appears on her holographic screen. “What was his name?”

“Timothy Claiborne.”

She puts her hand over her mouth and studies the image in stony silence.

Erik looks closer at the brain scan. “I can see the tumors. Is this Timothy?”

She nods, using two fingers to spin the brain scan around for a three-sixty view. “Are you absolutely certain that he was cured of cancer and MS after his time with us?”

Erik nods. “There is something else. He had a connection between his splenic nerve and vagus nerve that we had never seen before, and his blood type had changed after he returned from Akureyri.”

Shock flashes across Aleria’s face and then vanishes in the space of a breath, its only remnant the inward dip of her brows. “Please don’t mention this to anyone until I figure out what happened.”

“I won’t.”

The two of them look at Timothy’s scans in silence for several minutes, until Aleria flicks her eyes at Erik. “About your file,” she begins slowly. “There is actually something I wanted to ask you.”

“Sure… what is it?”

“Would you be willing to have your blood tested again, and to have another neuroimaging scan performed?”

There is definitely something wrong. Erik can see it in the taut perfection of her face, as though she is struggling to maintain her usual calm expression. “Why?” he says cautiously. “Those tests were done when I entered the space station.”

“Yes, but there is something I need to confirm that can’t be done with the original test results.”

Erik’s brows rise. “What is it? Should I be concerned?”

Aleria shakes her head. “No… nothing to be concerned about.”

“Then what’s going on?”

She purses her lips. “I’ll let you know after I get the results.”

Erik’s mind is racing with worst-case scenarios, but he decides to trust Aleria. She would tell him if he were seriously ill. And anyway, any illness he has can be cured by Mandal and her team. “Okay,” he finally agrees.

“I have one more favor to ask: please don’t tell anyone about the duplicate tests.”

More secrets. Erik narrows his eyes as he nods. “Okay, but you have to do me a favor in return.”

Aleria looks nervous. “What is it?”

“Watch a movie with me?”

Her relief is palpable. She nods. “All right.”

“Tonight,” Erik says. “I have the perfect movie.”

“Okay.” Her eyes drop down to her desk again, and he takes that as his signal to get back to his own office.

* * *

Erik is lounging in his office chair. Since he is locked out of the brain scan files he wants to view, he is using voice commands to complete the advanced version of the Sjelian language program. He is closing his eyes, trying to remember the word for “pleasant,” when his door opens and Reshal steps in with a soft smile. Erik waves him in further, cutting off the program.

Reshal takes a seat by his desk. “I wanted to tell you how glad I am that you decided to join us on this mission.”

“I feel like I have purpose again,” Erik says honestly. “I should be thanking you.”

Reshal nods, eyes on the desk, then lifts his head to say, “I am personally excited to have you here.”

Erik rubs his screen-tired eyes. Reshal’s intense gaze is suddenly making him a tad uncomfortable.

Reshal leans back with hands folded in his lap, his index fingers extended forward like a mock gun. “How are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“It must have been difficult… losing your wife and child.”

A flash of panic. “How did you know about that? I’ve only just told—” Aleria. Would she betray his confidence so quickly?

“I think I told you that we can analyze all electronic messages.”

Erik nods.

“When you first arrived here, we did some research into your background, via your electronic communications. When I found the message from your work manager, a Professor Ugerbale, about your taking a leave of absence, I dug deeper to deduce the reason for it.”

“Oh. I see.” Erik looks down at his computer backdrop, where Kristin and Eria smile up at him. “It’s still painful. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.”

“I understand. When I lost my sister, I was devastated.”

Erik meets Reshal’s eyes properly for the first time and is surprised to see genuine sorrow reflected there. “I’m sorry.”

Reshal just nods, looking incredibly lonely.

“Do you have a life partner?”

“No, I—I don’t have any family. I decided to devote all of my time to work. I started working at the space station forty years ago.”

Erik’s jaw drops. “Forty years ago? How old are you?”

“I’m seventy-five.”

“You look like you’re forty!”

Reshal acknowledges that with an easy smile. “Sjelians age much differently than the people from Earth.”

“How is that possible, if we’re the same species?”

“We have been able to manipulate our DNA to eliminate genetic diseases. Not to mention that the food we eat is designed specifically to meet our body’s nutritional needs.”

Erik thinks of the gray food cubes and shudders, but he has to admit that the system has its benefits. “What’s the life expectancy on Sjel?”

“Most Sjelians live to be one hundred and thirty.”

Erik’s eyes widen. “Wow… that’s incredible. I’ll be lucky to reach ninety.”

“You’ll live longer than that, now that you’re eating like a Sjelian.”

Erik chuckles. “If you say so…” He leans back in his chair and, in a serious tone, says, “I’ve been meaning to ask you a question about the portals.”

“Go ahead.”

“How many are there on Earth?”

“Just over two thousand years ago, we established sixteen portals on your planet,” says Reshal. “We’ve closed most of them. There are only three that remain operational today: Iceland, central Senegal, and northern China.”

“Why is that?” Erik asks, leaning forward like a plant bending toward the sunlight.

“With your population growth, some of our portals ended up in densely populated areas… and with your technological developments—specifically the electronic recording devices—we couldn’t risk the exposure.” Reshal throws his hands out nonchalantly, palms up, with a quick shrug.

“You said that there was no missing time, so if someone were to record a person entering the portal, it would look as though they fainted.”

Reshal tilts his head, squinting one blue eye. “In some cases, there can be a second or two of missing time. Not to mention that there is less gravity at the entrance of the portal, so if there are loose objects near the entrance, it will look as though they are floating, or levitating. Those anomalies might not be noticeable to the naked eye, but with the ability to slow down and analyze video footage… In short, we wouldn’t want a recording of the portal to circulate.”

Erik grins at Reshal. “Too late for that.”

Reshal narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“There is a picture on the internet of levitating boulders at the entrance of the cave in Akureyri. That’s how I found the place.”

“Interesting,” says Reshal, but his serene face doesn’t look all that interested. He’s not even looking at Erik anymore. He’s nonchalant. Perhaps too nonchalant.

And just like that, Erik wonders if Aleria isn’t the only one hiding something from him.

* * *

September 22nd, 2017

Aleria watches as Erik clambers onto the thin, but comfortable white bed in the evaluation center’s exam room and stares up at the scanning device on the ceiling. His feet nearly touch the end of the bed, and he shimmies himself into a more comfortable position, making a good-natured grumbling noise as he does so. Aleria has noticed that he often makes this noise when he’s confronted with something that’s not quite right or satisfying—particularly his food rations. It’s endearing.

She gathers all of the sterile equipment she will need to take his blood sample and checks the device that will perform his neuroimaging exam. As she prepares for the tests, she keeps her back to him. She’s not sure what she hopes to find by testing Erik again, but she’s certain she’s ready to stop investigating behind his back. Aleria doesn’t particularly like lying, and she can tell Erik is growing suspicious. Never mind her intuition—Earth’s humans are an open book, compared to Sjelians.

“When will you have the results?” Erik asks. When Aleria turns, she sees him squinting up at the scanner’s blinking blue lights, which emanate from a flat silver panel connected to a tube hanging from the ceiling.

“Less than an hour,” Aleria chirps, hoping her cheer comes across as genuine.

“Don’t forget,” he says, swiveling his head to give her a playful glare, “you promised to tell me why you are doing this.” He waggles a finger at her.

She smiles back. “I won’t forget. Now close your eyes.”

She turns away as the machine’s blue lights flare brighter. She studies the holographic screen, watching the progress bar move toward completion. Soon, she’ll know what she’s dealing with, with Erik. She tells herself that it’s important to have all of the relevant information about someone who is now a member of her crew, but if she’s honest with herself, she’s also desperate to satisfy her curiosity.

Eighty-seven percent scanned. Ninety-two percent. Ninety-nine. Finally, she says, “All done.”

She hurriedly sends herself the data and shuts off all of the equipment, scrubbing evidence of her presence. She and Erik walk back into the office area, and Aleria branches off with a wave, saying over her shoulder, “I’ve still got a lot to do. I’ll tell you everything when I get the results back, all right?”

He gives her a reluctant nod, and she heads into her office, feeling guilty about her little white lie. The results are already waiting for her. She needed a moment alone with them, without Erik breathing down her neck. She sits and downloads them in a snap. The 3D images hover above her desk. She does a quick once-over, and then a double take. Her face pales, and she swipes away the images before walking as fast as she dares into Lina’s office.

She watches the door close tight behind her, and then whirls to face Lina, whose eyes widen at the urgency on her face. “I performed the duplicate exams,” Aleria says in a hushed voice.

Lina’s eyebrows jump. “On Erik? Reshal gave you permission?”

Aleria shakes her head slowly.

“You did it without permission?” Lina says, voice squeaking on the last word. “I didn’t think you were serious about that.” Her eyes flick to her glass door, checking for eavesdroppers, and then she says more carefully, “You could get in a lot of trouble.”

Aleria waves her hand, like shooing a fly. “I’m not worried.”

“You rely too much on your relationship with Theran,” Lina says, an eyebrow arched in disapproval. She sits back and lets out a puff of air that lifts a stray strand of her auburn hair out of her eyes. “So… what did you find out?”

Aleria walks around Lina’s desk and inputs a command on her desk computer without a word. Erik’s tests results appear in front of Lina’s green eyes. Lina puts her hand over her mouth and gasps. “I can’t believe it. He’s Sjelian? How is that possible?”

“I have no idea,” says Aleria, face grave, eyes locked on the screen. “His neuroimaging results explain why he was able to learn our language so quickly and… look here.” She points to a small section of his brain, highlighting it with a tap of her finger. “He does have telepathic perception.”

Lina gapes at Aleria and then stands up, leaning with both hands on her desk for a better look at the scans. “His DNA is mixed,” she says after a moment. “His mother is from Earth.”

Aleria taps at her bottom lip. “We won’t know who the father is unless we can somehow access the medical files of the people who were working on our Earth-monitoring space station in 1984.”

Lina lets out a soft “hmm” sound. “Do you know the exact Earth-date of Erik’s birth?”

“June 21st, 1985.”

“That means that his mother must have entered the portal sometime in September or October of the preceding year.” Lina enters the dates, and a list of names appears on the screen.

Aleria puts her head next to Lina’s. “That’s strange. These three women entered the portal within a week of each other. We don’t usually run tests so close together.”

Lina nods. “You’re right.”

Aleria points to the screen. “Cross-match the DNA of those women with Erik’s blood test.”

Lina enters the data, and the positive results flash and fill the screen. “It was the third woman that week in 1984…” Lina looks up at Aleria. “She’s Erik’s mother.”

“Erik was…” Aleria can barely say it out loud. “He was conceived… on the Sjelian station?”

She and Lina stare at each other in disbelief.

Aleria clears her throat, worry pulling her features downward. “Reshal was the director of the evaluation center in 1984. He was also the one who evaluated Erik when he arrived a month ago, and he asked to read Erik’s examination results before they were shared with anyone else.” With a few taps, she double checks the records to confirm both statements. “But why would he—”

Lina holds up a hand to try and stop Aleria’s mind from making the leap. “We don’t know for certain it was Reshal.”

Aleria tilts her head toward her shoulder in a half-shrug. “True.”

“Are you going to tell Erik?”

Aleria shakes her head. “I can’t now. Not until I inform Theran. I will tell Erik… eventually.” So much for today marking the end of keeping secrets from him. She looks Lina in the eyes. “Please don’t mention this to anyone.”

Lina nods, but her eyes are wide and confused. “Why would someone violate a fundamental tenet by impregnating a woman from Earth? It makes no sense.”

That refrain—it makes no sense—reminds Aleria of the other piece of vital information that Erik shared with her: “There is something else,” she says slowly. “Last year, a man named Timothy Claiborne entered the same portal as Erik. His DNA was altered by someone on the space station.”

“Why would someone alter his DNA?” Lina exclaims.

Aleria just shrugs, puffing out her lips in a big sigh.

Lina leans back in her chair and puts a hand to her temple in exasperation. “I need some Slak.”

* * *

At the end of the workday, Erik and Aleria leave their offices together and head back to their adjacent rooms. Before Aleria can wave her PAD, Erik says, “Remember… you promised you would watch a movie with me.”

She smiles at Erik and says, “You’re right. I did.”

Erik waves his PAD and steps aside to let her into his room. As he crosses the threshold behind her, he instructs his computer to play Forrest Gump. His window turns opaque, then black, and then brightens again as the Paramount logo appears on screen. Erik and Aleria get comfy on the couch, although Erik can’t help but notice that Aleria leaves a polite amount of space between them.

Erik leans into the couch back and crosses his ankles. “The picture on this screen is amazing.”

Aleria shrugs. “If you say so.”

Forrest appears onscreen, bending to pick up the feather that floated through the opening credits. “You’ll love this movie,” Erik says, and they watch the first few scenes in silence.

Erik lets the familiarity of one of his favorite films wash over him. He rewatches Forrest Gump at least once a year. A few months ago, he showed it to Eria for the first time, fast-forwarding through some of the more mature scenes. Eria had liked Forrest’s friend Bubba most of all.

Erik doesn’t want to think about Eria right now. He turns his head to look at Aleria’s profile and asks the question that has been on his mind all day. “So… did you get the results of my blood test?”

She keeps her eyes on the screen as she nods. “Yes, and your neuroimaging exam.”

“Does it explain how I was able to learn the Sjelian language so quickly?”

She purses her lips but doesn’t answer. Erik turns his head back to the screen but watches her in his peripheral vision, not sure what to think.

“What about my hallucinations?”

“Sorry. I can’t tell you anything yet.”

Erik stares at the movie without really seeing it for a few moments before asking, “When can I look over the results?”

“I have to notify Theran first, since this was a duplicate exam.”

Erik bobs his head. “Okay.” He looks over at Aleria again. “But… I will get to see the results… soon… right?”

She flicks her eyes to him for only a second. “As soon as I notify Theran, yes,” she says with a stiff smile.

Erik nods, reluctantly accepting the brush-off. He throws an arm over the back of the couch and says with forced cheer, “Wish we had popcorn.”

“If you really need to eat something, then go ahead.” Aleria points over her shoulder at the food dispenser.

Erik rolls his eyes. “No… I’m good.”

They settle into a comfortable silence, letting the movie do the talking. As the colors onscreen light their faces and the familiar story plays out, Erik steals a glance at Aleria each time she laughs. She’s magnetic. She’s the only person here who makes him feel even a little like his old self. He wants to close the distance between them.

But with the ghosts of his wife and daughter hovering in the room, he doesn’t know how—or even if he should.

Chapter 25

October 18th, 2017

In the comfort of the Setustofa room, with the white noise of the splashing waterfall threatening to lull him to sleep, Erik turns to ask Kralo a question, only to find the other man staring, yet again, off to the right side of the room.

Erik takes a sip of his Slak as Kralo’s hazel eyes bounce back and forth between Erik and the right corner. Kralo’s dark eyebrows stand out on his smooth, pale face and make him more expressive than most Sjelians. Erik can both see and sense a nervousness and a giddy, child-like eagerness in him.

When Kralo temporarily looks back at Erik, he takes the opportunity to ask, “What do you keep looking at?” Kralo’s eyes flicker away again, and Erik shifts in his seat to match Kralo’s line of sight. He cracks a smile at the sight of Mandal grinning in their direction. Erik chuckles and says, “Now I understand.”

Kralo whips his head back around, his attempt to look nonchalant an utter failure as he spouts out, “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Erik covers a grin by rubbing a hand across the lower half of his face. “So… what happens when we reach the first portal tomorrow?”

“We need to verify that it is operational, and then we’ll prepare the vessel for entry.”

“How do we prepare the vessel for entry?”

“Everyone on this vessel will have to be securely strapped in, since we will be turning off the gravity generator. We’ll also have to turn off the shields.”

Erik’s brows rise. “This vessel has shields?”

Kralo’s eyes begin to drift again. “Yes, every space vessel in our fleet is equipped with shields in order to protect the ship from oncoming meteoroids and asteroids. This vessel is also equipped with a laser array. Since our shields cannot withstand a hit from the larger asteroids, we need to destroy them before they hit us.”

“You have lasers that can actually destroy a large asteroid? Could the laser array also destroy another vessel?”

Kralo gives Erik a familiar sort of Sjelian smile. It is almost pitying, though good-natured, as if to say, “You poor, ignorant little Earthling. You’re so cute.” Through this smile, Kralo says, “Yes, but we would never use it as a weapon.”

“You would if someone attacked us.”

Kralo’s smile sours a little. “Why would someone attack us?” He glances toward Mandal again. She’s now standing in profile, chatting with another woman. Her brown hair is in a high, looped braid bun today, pulled back tight from her skull as usual.

“Why don’t you just go talk with her?” says Erik, poking Kralo’s shoulder.

“Talk with who?” Kralo gives Erik an overly cheery smile as he swivels his head back.

Erik snorts with laughter. Aside from Aleria, Kralo has become his best friend among the Sjelians. And, he thinks, sobering abruptly, he trusts Kralo to tell him the truth. “You said that Aleria’s life partner died while traveling through a portal. Are they dangerous?”

Kralo scrunches up the right side of his face and makes a so-so gesture with his right hand. “There is always a ten percent chance that the portal could collapse.”

Erik chokes on his Slak and leans forward so that he won’t accidentally spit it out on his pants. He puts the cup on the ground and pounds his chest as he hacks the liquid out of his windpipe. “Holy shit!” he finally manages. “That’s a high percentage!”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Kralo says calmly. “I’ll be piloting this vessel through the portal.”

Erik looks over at the waterfall, letting Kralo continue ogling Mandal while he thinks. After a few minutes, his curiosity gets the best of him, and he says, “Does Aleria have any children?”

Kralo nods, not bothering to tear his eyes from Mandal this time. “Yes, she has a son.”

Erik sits up in surprise. “Really? Who’s raising him while she’s gone?”

Kralo laughs. “Her son is twenty-two years old. He’s well past that age.”

Erik’s jaw drops. “What? How old is Aleria?”

“She is forty-five years old.”

Erik leans back with hands folded over his chest and lets out a long puff of air before saying, “She looks like she’s my age.”

Kralo smiles. “How old do you think I am?”

“In your thirties… like me.”

Kralo shakes his head. “I’m older than Aleria.”

“Am I the youngest person on board?” Erik asks, and Kralo nods. Great. I’m the youngest and the least experienced, Erik thinks. And the only non-Sjelian. He takes a long sip of his Slak and tries not to feel like he doesn’t belong here.

After two months with the Sjelians, Erik misses Earth. He misses real food: cheeseburgers and pizza, fresh vegetables and ice cream, his wife’s skilled cooking and greasy fast food alike. He enjoys Slak quite a bit, but he misses Coca-Cola, coffee, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and beer. He misses his favorite TV shows. He misses real books—Erik is fairly confident that Theran won’t have the medical thrillers he used to devour on the shelf in his relic room—and as comfortable as the Sjelians’ chairs are, he misses his cushy reading recliner.

He misses the feel of grass between his toes. The brush of a warm breeze against his face. The heat of the sun and the cold surprise of an unexpected rain shower. He misses the smell of the lake behind his house, and the sound of its lapping water.

Even more than things, though, he misses being among people who understand him, and whom he understands in return. He misses his work, and his colleagues at the university. He misses shorthand and in-jokes. He misses Stephan.

It was my choice to be here, Erik reminds himself. Getting to explore the universe is a pretty epic consolation prize for everything he’s been through. He has to look forward, instead of back. To the future, instead of the past. He has to keep moving, because he doesn’t know what will happen to him if he stands still.

* * *

October 19th, 2017

As they approach the portal, Erik is antsy. He’s been pacing all morning, thinking about that ten percent chance. The beep of his PAD startles him. He smooths his hair and then taps on Aleria’s name. Her torso appears in miniature before his eyes.

“Erik, is your room ready?” the hologram Aleria asks. “The gravity will be turned off for ninety seconds.”

“Yes, I don’t have anything in this room that isn’t secured.”

“Great, I’ll be by in a few minutes to get you.”

Erik futzes around, picking at a loose thread in his slacks until the light knock comes on his door. Aleria greets him with a smile, her long hair in a fishtail braid, and then leads him to the transportation room where they will have to be strapped into chairs for ninety seconds. The door is already open, the metal glinting inside the doorframe. Erik’s first thought is that the large room looks like the inside of an airplane. There are eighty seats secured, all facing the same direction—twenty rows of four. Each metal chair is bolted to the floor and fixed with a thick, black, padded harness that goes over the shoulders to keep the occupants from floating away.

The chairs aren’t nearly as comfortable as the mesh ones Erik’s grown accustomed to, but they do curve inward slightly at the back to support the spine. Aleria leans over in her seat to show Erik how to connect his harness before strapping herself in, and Erik is left feeling like a six-year-old—a not-unfamiliar sensation among his Sjelian colleagues. Two crew members walk down the rows, inspecting each chair to make sure everyone is properly secured in their seat, making Erik feel as though he’s about to go on a rickety rollercoaster ride. He finds himself worrying that he didn’t hear a click when his harness buckle connected.

Erik looks over at Aleria just as she clenches her trembling hands into fists around her shoulder straps. She’s nervous, he realizes, and although she hasn’t yet told him why she has a hard time with portal travel—their relationship hasn’t once dipped below the surface in the month since his duplicate neuroimaging and blood tests—he wants to help her remain calm. They’re friends, and that’s what friends do… even if one friend suspects the other is keeping important information from him.

“Where is Kralo?” he asks, hoping to distract her from her fears.

“He’s in the control center.” Aleria’s voice is tight and higher than usual. “He’ll be piloting this vessel through the portal.”

A mild-mannered, slightly robotic voice announces over a speaker, “Portal entry in fifteen seconds.”

“I feel like I’m on a ride at Disney World,” Erik jokes, and Aleria shoots him a confused look. Good. Confusion is better than terror.

The lights dim, and Erik holds onto his shoulder straps, copying Aleria. Unlike an airplane, there are no windows here, and Erik’s imagination runs wild, picturing the hammerhead bow of the ship approaching a dazzling blue ring hanging in the center of space. There is a low whir as the gravity is shut off, and Erik feels his feet drift off the ground, though his butt thankfully stays firmly planted in the seat. An eerie quiet settles over the room as the robotic voice counts down from five over the speaker.

When the countdown reaches one, the whole vessel shakes, as though an enormous beast has selected the spaceship as its new favorite squeaky toy. Erik’s teeth clack together, and he shoves his floating feet back to the floor to try and ground himself. Aleria reaches out with her right hand and grabs Erik’s left, pulling it off his shoulder strap and squeezing it tight. He looks over to find her facing straight ahead, her eyes scrunched closed.

Now Erik’s head sways side to side as the violent shaking switches directions from vertical to horizontal. Erik’s stomach jolts as the spaceship jerks to what feels like a full stop and then jets forward hard enough to slam his head against the high back of his seat. This is worse than any turbulence Erik has ever experienced in an airplane. The lights shut off, throwing the room into absolute darkness, and Aleria’s nails dig into Erik’s palm. Erik can hear his heartbeat in his ears even over the rumbling of the vibrating vessel. The lights suddenly return to their original dim setting, but the shaking doesn’t let up.

Erik’s watch says it’s only been a minute since they entered the portal, but it feels closer to an hour.

Erik looks back over at Aleria. Her eyes are open now, but her neck is rigid, keeping her eyes locked on the blank wall straight ahead. At last, after a few more seconds, the shaking stops and the lights go back to normal, making Erik blink against their harsh glow. Erik looks around. Crew members are relaxing their shoulders and sighing. Some chat casually amongst themselves.

“Portal exit, successful,” says the announcement voice, and only then does Aleria release her grip.

Erik’s hand is sweaty where she clamped onto him, and he rubs it on his slacks as the rest of the crew starts unhooking their harnesses and walking toward the exit. Aleria stays in her chair, her chest pushing out the harness with each deep breath. She doesn’t look at Erik as he unbuckles his harness.

“Are you all right?” he says, leaning down to put his face in front of her eyes.

She nods silently, looking through him rather than at him. Erik reaches down tentatively and slowly unbuckles her harness. Only when the straps slide free of her shoulders does she really lock eyes with him.

She blinks, and her feeble attempt at a smile looks more like the grimace of someone about to be sick. “Thanks, Erik,” she says as she stands, taking the arm he offers to steady her. “I need a drink.”

“Great idea.”

She keeps her arm looped through his as they walk over to the Setustofa room, her fingers wrapped lightly around his bicep. When they enter, Aleria drops her hand and rushes to grab a drink for both of them. As Erik watches her hurried movements, so unlike her usual calm concentration, he finds himself admiring her from behind. When he realizes what he’s doing, he startles, flushing like he was just caught in the act of something illicit. He hasn’t looked at a woman like this—besides Kristin—in years. It feels both natural and unnatural, so right and very, very wrong. He clears his throat and collects himself as Aleria returns, having regained the color in her cheeks.

Erik raises the glass she passes him and says, “Cheers,” prompting her first smile since the transportation room. He takes a drink and tries to think of topics of conversation that won’t ignite the spark he feels between them. He settles on: “I was talking with Kralo, and he mentioned that you have a son.”

She takes a sip and nods. “Yes. His name is Emeran.”

"You must really miss him.”

“I do.”

“I see why this is such a sacrifice for everyone. You won’t be able to communicate with him while we’re on this mission.”

“It’s true… It was a difficult decision, volunteering for this mission. I typically talk with Emeran once a week.”

Erik’s smile feels bittersweet. “I can relate.”

Aleria looks down at her flat shoes and then up at Erik through the veil of her lashes. “The accident. I apologize. You must miss your wife and child terribly.”

Erik nods. “Yes…” Now it is his turn to study his shoes. He clears his throat. “It’s still very painful.”

“I understand. My life partner died several years ago…” She gulps, and he can tell it’s difficult for her to share this with him. “It was a faulty portal jump.” Her eyes beg him to understand why she clung to him earlier. “After that happened, I had a difficult time finding the motivation to go on with my life, but… Emeran provides that motivation. If I had lost them both, at the same time…” She shrugs helplessly.

Erik gropes for a topic that’s a logical leap that will relieve some of the pressure in his chest. “Are your parents still alive?”

“My father is, but I’m not sure about my mother.”

Erik’s eyes zip to hers in surprise. “You’re not sure?”

“My mother left Sjel when I turned sixteen. I don’t know what happened to her. She just disappeared.”

Erik’s lips part, brows doing a little hop. “Wow, that’s so sad. Does your father know why she disappeared?”

“No.”

“How did they meet?”

Aleria looks at the waterfall, then back at Erik. “They met on an exploration vessel like this one. The vessel came across a shuttle that was just drifting. It was a miracle that they found her.”

Erik’s brows narrow. “She’s not Sjelian?”

Aleria shakes her head, a hint of sadness creeping across her features. “No.”

“What planet is she from?” If Aleria says “Earth,” Erik thinks he may fall out of his seat.

But Aleria shrugs, her face unreadable once more. “We don’t know. She refused to tell anyone where she came from.”

“Really? Was she afraid to say?”

“I don’t know.”

“Incredible. So… you’re only half Sjelian. What was that like? Did everyone know your mother wasn’t Sjelian?”

“Yes… and most everyone was accepting. Of course, some people had concerns.”

“Why were they concerned?”

“People are always afraid of the unknown. Anything that is different… scares people.”

Erik nods, looking into his drink. “True.”

They sit in silence for several minutes, each buried beneath the weight of their respective pasts. When Aleria’s cup is empty, she stands and says, “I’m ready to leave. Do you have another movie that we can watch?”

Erik’s smile is quick and genuine. “Absolutely.”

* * *

October 20th, 2017

Erik stares at his computer screen, where the program prompts him to continue his conversation with a lifelike Sjelian bot who is staring at him with warm, doe-like eyes as her holographic torso hovers above his desk. He cannot concentrate. He isn’t sure what the bot just asked. He can’t pull his mind from his blood and neuroimaging exams.

Last night, after Aleria left his room at the end of Field of Dreams, Erik made a decision. It was time to ask again about his test results. The suspense is killing him. Surely Aleria has had enough time to gain approval from Theran by now.

Plus, he wants to end the awkward secrecy-dance they’re doing. The endless drawing closer and pulling away. If nothing else, he wants the air between them to be clear.

He shoves his chair back from the desk and walks past the few doors separating his office from Aleria’s. He enters with a swift knock and sits down.

Aleria looks up only when his eyes bore into her bent forehead, and says, “Everything okay?”

He lets out a deep breath. “My test results.”

She closes her eyes and nods. “I know… I’m sorry, but I can’t show them to you yet. You just have to be patient.”

“But you promised,” he says, unconsciously affecting the stern almost-shout he used to use when Eria was testing her boundaries and being defiant.

Aleria sits straight and stares steadily back with widened eyes. She matches his stern tone. “I understand, Erik. As I said, you’ll have to wait.”

Erik feels the vulnerable, meaningful moments they shared yesterday dissolve into mist. He rises slowly, jaw clenched, and walks out without a word. In his office, he slams a fist down his desk, a creeping sense of dread growing in his stomach like a tumor.

* * *

Later that evening, Erik lies on his made bed, pondering his situation. His silenced PAD flashes in the corner of his eye. Aleria… again. He swats the PAD, knocking it off the bed and out of sight.

How can I access my test results?

He knows they must be on her computer. If he could only figure out a way to log on. He would just need her PAD, but it’s never off her wrist.

He rolls over and looks at the wardrobe drawers, like bland file cabinets, across from the bed and gets an idea. In the middle drawer lies his extra PAD. Aleria has one, too. He just needs to figure out a way to borrow it for an hour or so.

He gets up from the bed, energized, and walks to the Setustofa room. It is empty except for one bald head sticking over the back of a sofa. Erik gets closer and realizes its Kralo.

“Have you seen Aleria?”

Kralo’s inky brows come together. “Why are you asking me? You two are always together.”

“I left work early. I thought she might be here.”

Kralo shakes his head. “No, she never comes here unless you’re with her.”

Erik startles. “What are you talking about? I’m sure she comes here without me.”

Kralo takes a sip from his glass. “No.”

“What about before I entered the portal? I’m sure she spent time socializing. She knows everyone.”

“Before you, Aleria never visited the Setustofa room. She kept to herself.”

“Really?” Erik is mildly stunned. He would never have guessed he had so much influence over Aleria, that it was his presence bringing her out of her shell. For a moment, he forgets his purpose in coming here. Is she feeling the same attraction he’s feeling? Is she resisting that attraction for the same reason he is, in memory of the person she lost?

Kralo pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. “Did you check her room?”

Erik smacks himself in the forehead, a gesture that makes Kralo tilt his head in bemusement. “Good idea. Thanks. Night, Kralo.”

Erik makes the quick trip back and presses the access panel on Aleria’s door. She answers, her voice tense. “Hello?”

“It’s me. Can I come in?”

She opens the door, and Erik gives her his best attempt at a casual grin, hands in his pockets as his heart begins to pick up its pace. He’s feeling so many things at once. Frustration—he has a right to see his own test results. Desire—Aleria is wearing her hair down, and he wants to run his fingers through it. Sadness—she isn’t the woman he loved. Curiosity—what could she become, if they gave themselves a chance?

And nerves—Erik’s jangling with them. Will he be able to pull off his plan? What if she catches him? What if he doesn’t like what he finds on her computer? Is it better not to know, after all?

“I tried to reach you earlier, but you didn’t answer,” Aleria says, a hint of hurt in her voice.

Erik nods, averting his eyes. “I was upset.”

“I’m sorry, Erik. I know you want to see those results, but I need you to be patient.”

“I understand.”

She relaxes her shoulders. “Good.”

“I have my cell phone with me. Do you want to watch another movie?”

Her smile is relieved. “Sure.”

Aleria downloads the movie onto her computer in the time it takes Erik to get comfy on the couch. She begins to sit with him, closer than he’d expected, but then straightens again, saying, “Actually, I need to use the bathroom first.”

Erik watches her head into the small bathroom off the living area, and then rises with the click of the door. He rushes on tip-toe around the couch to the dresser drawers across from the bed, her food dispenser sitting on top. He opens the drawers one after the other, searching for her spare PAD.

* * *

As the movie credits roll off the black screen, Erik tells Aleria goodnight. With a small wave, he strides casually into the hall, and then zips into his own room as soon as her door closes behind him, collapsing on the bed. He looks up at the ceiling, holding Aleria’s extra PAD above his nose.

What am I doing? I should return this. She’ll be upset.

She will get over it. I am just borrowing it. I deserve to see my results.

When the clock on Erik’s PAD reads 2 a.m., he slides out of bed and enters the hall, repeating the turns necessary to get to the evaluation center in his mind like a mantra. Erik accesses the center with an easy wave, and then walks across the research lab, switching the PADs in his hand. He waves Aleria’s spare PAD in front of her office’s access panel, and the door opens with a whoosh that sounds unusually loud to his ears, as if the door itself is scolding him, as if it knows he is an intruder and is trying to raise the alarm. Heart pounding, Erik takes a seat in front of her computer. He waves her PAD by the screen, illuminating it. His fingers hover over the screen for a second, and then he begins entering commands.

A wall of files pops up, and as he taps through them, searching for his name, his eyes flick up every few seconds to check the clear glass door for an approaching figure in the dimly lit space. Hurry, he scolds himself. There’s no one there; just get it done. He glues his eyes to the screen, and a few taps later, there it is. His file. He rubs his sweaty palms on his slacks. Nerves overtake his logical brain, and he gets up and pokes his head out of the office door, making sure no one has entered the evaluation center without his knowledge. He looks left, then right, and retreats back into the office, scolding himself for being so paranoid.

He returns to the workstation and opens up the file. His eyes race over the results. When he reaches the blood test, his jaw drops.

Oh, my God!

He sits, shell-shocked, for several seconds. He reads the results again, and then a third time. He forgets to check the door.

He suddenly gets the feeling that he’s being watched. His head jerks up.

Aleria is glaring at him through the glass.

Chapter 26

Aleria slowly opens the door, her mouth pulled down in a fierce frown. She crosses her arms, and when he only gapes at her, she says, "Why?”

When he doesn’t answer right away, she breaks eye contact. Her lips purse together as she stares at the ceiling, shaking her head. Erik watches as her eyes begin to glisten, and his stomach sinks. This is his worst-case scenario. He’d hoped that she would be upset with him for a few moments, then forgive him after he explained how important it was to find out the results—results she’d promised to show him weeks ago. But she looks… devastated. And angry.

After a shaky breath, he offers, "I’m so sorry. I had to know.”

She wipes her eyes and says, brittle-voiced, “You broke my trust.” She extends her hand. “My PAD, please.”

Erik stands up. He looks her in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Aleria.” She averts her gaze but keeps her hand out. He hands her the PAD and walks out of the office. He glances back only once to see her sitting in her chair with her head down, hands over her face.

Erik walks back to his room. As upset as he is about Aleria’s reaction, the test results knock against his skull, demanding his attention. He enters his room and collapses on his bed.

I’m Sjelian.

* * *

October 21st, 2017

Erik wakes up with bleary eyes, fully dressed, and with no recollection of going to sleep. He looks at his PAD on his wrist and thinks about calling Aleria, but decides not to. He takes his shower and trudges to the evaluation center. He stops by Aleria’s office, but she isn’t there.

He takes the few steps toward Lina’s office and pops in to ask her if she has seen Aleria. She shakes her head, giving him an odd look that makes him wonder what she knows. “She’s not coming in today.”

Erik nods slowly. “Okay, thanks.”

Erik leaves the evaluation center and walks toward the Setustofa room. Further down the hallway, he spies Theran about to enter the storage room where he keeps his relics from Earth.

Erik calls out, and Theran turns his head. Surprise flashes across his face as Erik jogs toward him. “Erik, nice to see you. How are you adjusting to this vessel?”

Erik nods. “I’m doing well.”

“Is Aleria helping you acclimate?”

Erik forces a smile. “Yes, she’s great.” Erik pauses for a moment, relieved that Theran seems to be unaware of both his heritage and his indiscretion. He gestures toward the door. “Aleria showed me this room.”

Theran waves his PAD across the access panel and says, “So you’ve seen my collection?”

Erik follows him inside. “Yes, it’s impressive. Why do you have these things?”

Theran looks over at an exact replica of the first car built by Karl Benz. “When I was your age, I loved to explore. I spent the early part of my life on an exploration vessel, like this one. Traveling from one galaxy to another.” Theran scans the room with a mild smile, lost in his memories. He then turns to look at Erik. “Then I met my life partner, Kayna, and everything changed. After our daughter was born, I took an assignment on the space station, where the three of us lived together until my daughter turned eight. We then moved to Sjel, so she could attend school there.” Theran smiles and looks at the old Peter Pan statue. “Kayna loved Earth. She was fascinated by how diverse and creative the people are.” Theran’s smile grows sad at the corners. “I would have these things made for her. She loved to wear clothes from the different time periods. She was especially fond of the old computers built in the 1960s and ’70s. I could never understand why. It made no sense to me.” Theran pauses for a moment. “These things remind me of her.”

Erik catches Theran’s use of past-tense. He clears his throat and takes a chance by saying, “I understand. I lost my wife and daughter recently. I watch videos of them every night. I never want to forget them.” He peers at the bookshelf in the back of the room. “Would you mind if I take a look at the books you have here?”

Theran holds out an arm in the universal gesture for go ahead. “I have to get back to work. Stay here as long as you like, Erik.”

* * *

October 22nd, 2017

The next morning, Erik hurries to the evaluation center. He walks straight to her office, convinced she would never miss two days of work in a row. But his conviction is misplaced. Her desk is empty, and the room is dark. Erik’s stomach sinks.

He walks over to Lina’s office, and when she gestures at him to take a seat, he obeys.

“I didn’t see Aleria in her office.”

Lina looks at the door to make sure it is shut. “She told me what happened.”

Erik puts his head down, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes. “I had to see those test results.”

Lina drapes her index finger over her chin and shakes her head. “Trust is… vital to Sjelians. Once you break it, it’s almost impossible to repair.”

Erik runs a hand over his face. “If I had known that, I wouldn’t have... I mean, I would have found another way…”

Lina closes her eyes for a moment, then shuts down her screen and looks at Erik. “When Relek died, Aleria struggled to go on with her life. She returned to the space station to start fresh.”

“Returned? I didn’t know she worked at the space station before Relek passed.”

“She didn’t. Her father worked on the space station. She lived there until she turned eight. They wanted her to attend school on Sjel.”

Erik leans in, listening closely.

Lina continues, “It has been five years since Relek passed, and yet Aleria still just keeps to herself. That is, she did until you showed up. She has been a different person these last two months.”

Erik puts his hands out, pinkies resting on the desk. “Is there anything I can do to fix this? I value her… friendship.” Never mind those occasional flashes signaling something more.

Lina shrugs. “Sjelians are much different than the people from Earth. It’s hard for us to move on when someone has broken our trust.”

Erik tilts his head. “But she kept something from me. She promised to tell me why she ran duplicate tests, and she didn’t seem to have any intention of ever sharing the results with me.”

Lina forces a tight smile. “It’s complicated. When she found out that you were half-Sjelian and that a member of the crew had violated a fundamental tenet, she was required to report it to the executive leader, before disclosing it to anyone else. She would be breaking a tenet by telling you first. She had no choice. She was planning to tell you as soon as she reported this to Theran.”

“Which she has not yet done,” Erik says with confidence. He doubts Theran would have treated him so normally if he’d already been told Erik’s secrets. “Did she ever intend to tell him?”

“Aleria has been struggling with this situation,” Lina says, voice shifting toward accusation—as if it’s Erik’s fault that he’s Sjelian, and never knew it.

But breaking into Aleria’s office with her spare PAD is Erik’s fault. He interlocks his fingers behind his head and closes his eyes. “I feel awful. I want to fix this.”

Lina gives him a long look. “I don’t know if you can.”

* * *

Later that evening, after spending several hours trying to focus on the brain scans he’d so desperately wanted to study, Erik gives up and wanders over to the Setustofa room, hoping to see Aleria.

Once again, Kralo sits on a sofa by himself, though the room bustles around him. Erik makes his way to the pilot, longing for a friendly familiar face.

“Hi, Kralo, have you seen Aleria?”

He shakes his head. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

Erik’s shoulders droop. “She’s upset… with me.”

Kralo takes a sip of Slak and says, “What happened?”

“I did something to break her trust… in me.” Erik sits down beside Kralo.

Kralo shakes his head, staring into his cup. “There’s something you should know about Sjelians—”

Erik interrupts. “Yeah, I know, trust is important to Sjelians.”

“Do you want some advice?”

Erik’s brows rise. “Absolutely.”

“Give her time.”

“How much time?”

“Hard to say. Meanwhile, try to think of something you can do for her that is really special. She might forgive you.”

Erik crinkles one eye in thought. “Any suggestions?”

“No… I’m not sure I know Aleria well enough to hazard a guess as to what she would see as a special, meaningful gesture.” Kralo pauses, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “Also, I’ve never been in your predicament before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never broken the trust of someone I love.”

Erik lets out a short, breathy laugh, feeling himself get red in the ears. “I’m not in love with her. We’re not in love. I just really value her friendship.”

Kralo smiles at Erik over the rim of his cup and says, “If you say so.”

Erik clears his throat. He almost tells the other man about Kristin and Eria, about how desperate he is to keep their memories alive and how he knows it’s too soon to move on and feel love again. He settles for grunting, “I do say so.”

Kralo nods. “Well… if I can think of anything regarding Aleria, I’ll let you know.”

Erik whiles away a few hours with Kralo in the Setustofa room, avoiding his own guilty conscience, but when he heads back to his room, the guilt attacks with a vengeance. He’s frustrated with himself for breaking Aleria’s trust. He could have pressed her harder to show him the results. He should have told her why it was so important that he know what was going on—that he was broken after his wife and child died, and that he was afraid that now that he had a reason to live again, karma had something terrible in store.

Aleria means something to him. Not what Kristin meant, but… something.

One problem at a time. He wracks his brain for something that he could do for Aleria that she would consider special. What would she appreciate?

When he turns the corner, his heart skips a beat. Aleria’s profile is beautiful and serene as she waves her PAD at her access panel, completely unaware of his presence.

Erik starts running toward her. “Aleria! Wait!”

She turns her head, her face becoming a blank mask as she steps over the threshold of her room. He nearly crashes into her door as it closes behind her. He starts to reach out to buzz her room but lets his hand drop.

* * *

November 12th, 2017

Three weeks later, Erik wakes determined. He has heeded Kralo’s advice and given Aleria her space. He’s kept to his office and his room, even learning new routes through the ship to avoid running into her accidentally. He’s devoted his days to brain scan data, hardly looking up from his desk for hours at a time, and his nights to the videos and photos of his wife and child. He’s exhausted, and he’s going stir-crazy.

Today is the day he will talk with Aleria again and make everything right. Erik pays extra attention to his hair and double-checks his breath before walking over to the evaluation center, his stomach a ball of nerves and hope.

He can see Aleria’s dark head across the room through her open office door. The sight makes his veins thrum with adrenaline. Instead of taking the long way around to his own office, as he’s been doing, he straightens, rolling back his shoulders, and strolls across the center of the room. He walks through her open door with what he hopes is a gentle smile on his lips and takes a seat.

She looks up from her computer screen without smiling. Her gaze is cold as she says, “Can I help you, Erik?”

Erik rubs his sweaty palms together and takes a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize to you. Aleria, I’m so sorry for what I did. It will never happen again. I promise. Please forgive me.”

She stares at Erik long enough to make him squirm. In an eerily calm voice, she says, “I think it’s best if you’re assigned another counselor. I’ve already talked with Theran and he agreed.”

Erik’s heart drops into the chair. He can feel the heat of tears in his eyes. “I would rather have you as my counselor.”

“I understand, Erik… but… I don’t want to be your counselor.” She looks unapologetically at him for a moment before continuing, “Please leave my office.”

Erik opens his mouth but only a strangled sound comes out, and he shuts it again with an audible snap. None of the conversations he rehearsed in his head went this badly. He has no answer. He stands up and slowly walks out of her office. The door shuts with horrible finality as he crosses the threshold. In the monotonous halls, he craves color and sound. Despite being in full view of his Sjelian colleagues, he pulls out his phone and starts watching videos of his daughter on St. John.

Erik stops, leaning against a wall, eyes locked on Eria, his arms aching to wrap around her. He wipes his tears away with the back of his hand.

Why is this so painful?

Chapter 27

January 11th, 2018

William Frieden lets his office door swing shut behind him. He walks around his desk and sinks into his chair, resting his head in his hands. Phrases from the meeting he just attended float through his mind at random.

Zoonotic pathogen.

One-hundred-percent fatality rate.

A virus designed to kill.

He’d suspected bad news was coming. He’d prepared himself for it. But the update he received went so far beyond his list of worst-case scenarios. Plus, unless he can change the president’s mind, he can’t tell a soul about the situation. The Centers for Disease Control won’t be able to warn the public of the coming apocalypse.

All William and his people can do is work tirelessly to create a vaccine, before it’s too late.

William sits up and squares his shoulders. He faces his computer and wills his hands to stop trembling. He gets down to business. He puts in a request for additional scientists willing to travel to Antarctica to work with lead epidemiologist Thomas Murphy on the vaccine project. He reaches out to the CDC’s go-to general contractor about updating the building to withstand a highly lethal airborne pathogen. He sends follow-up messages to several of the people who may have been contacted by the DoD shortly after the object in the ice was found. He never did hear back from that oncologist in Minnesota about his patient who was miraculously cured of cancer and multiple sclerosis. And then there’s the woman in North Dakota who survived an acute rabies infection despite being unvaccinated… and the man in Florida who was reportedly exposed to a new strain of yellow fever during a visit to South America…

No stone unturned. No lead unfollowed.

At the end of business hours, William calls his elderly mother in her nursing home. She doesn’t always know who he is, and she certainly doesn’t know what he does for a living, but tonight, both of those things are a blessing in disguise. He listens to her talk about the flowers in her small garden, and the bland food she’s served three times a day, and the reruns of Law & Order she’s been watching, and he tries to let the worries of his day slip away.

The ice sheets will melt in less than a decade. His mother isn’t likely to live that long. She won’t be around to witness what happens if William and his team fail to prevent a global pandemic. Another tiny blessing.

Chapter 28

January 12th, 2018

Erik wakes to the sight of his white ceiling. The pure, sterile color has begun to turn his stomach. Its perfection mocks the ugly, dirty turmoil in his head.

The two months without Aleria have felt like solitary confinement. Without the warmth of her friendship, there is not much life on the Sjelian exploration vessel. Erik’s days are empty and cold.

Grief roils through him as he thinks about everything he’s lost. He hadn’t realized how much Aleria’s company kept him centered and sane, until that company was taken away. Gritting his teeth, he rolls out of bed, the evaluation center in mind. His work is one of the few bright spots in his world. He’s been making steady progress identifying and understanding the various neural pathways that differentiate Earth’s humans from their Sjelian counterparts. If he ever returns to Earth, he’ll be able to single-handedly revolutionize his field of study.

And yet, neuroscience is not his first concern when his PAD allows him into the center. His heart trots an unsteady rhythm when he spots Aleria directly across the room, diligently bent over her desk. He musters his courage a little more with each step, if only to have an excuse to see her face up close again.

As he halts in her doorway, he announces, “I’m not giving up on our friendship! It means too much to me.” He walks away without waiting for a response.

Aleria watches Erik’s back as he enters his office. She looks back at her screen with the slightest hint of a smile. When she sees Lina walk by a moment later, a curious expression on her face, Aleria tucks her smile away once more.

Later in the evening, Erik meets Kralo in what has become their customary place, the Setustofa room next to the central statues of the uniformed Sjelian leaders. Kralo was made Erik’s counselor, after Aleria, but more than that, he’s Erik’s closest friend—the other bright spot in his dark, sad life. Kralo is less open with his emotions than Aleria, and much less attuned to the nuances of Erik’s stories, but he’s always kind and eager to listen and help.

“I still need to think of a gesture that will win Aleria over,” Erik says without preamble, sitting across from Kralo.

Kralo stares up at the female statue, lips pursed in thought. “Think about what is important in her life. What does she want more than anything?”

Erik shrugs with an exasperated snort. “I have no idea. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she’s stopped speaking to me.”

“You’ll think of something.” Kralo turns to his left and Erik sees his eyes drift to Mandal, standing with her assistant by a fountain.

Erik rolls his eyes. “That’s it? No suggestions?”

Kralo looks back for a fraction of a second. “You’re on your own.”

“Thanks a lot,” Erik grouses. His brain whirs in silence for a few moments, and then he asks, “Do you celebrate birthdays on Sjel?”

Kralo’s brows narrow. “Why do you ask?”

“I could give her a birthday present.”

“We do celebrate birthdays,” Kralo says thoughtfully, “but it’s something that is only celebrated between family members. Since you’re not family, it would be inappropriate for you to give her a birthday gift.”

Erik finds this difficult to believe. “Really? She would be offended if I gave her a birthday gift?”

Kralo nods, his eyes already back on Mandal.

Erik lets out a sigh through closed lips, making a sound like a horse. “Good thing I asked. Regardless, do you happen to know her birthday?”

“Yes. In your calendar…” Kralo frowns, thinking. “It is August 28th, in the year 1972.”

Erik files away the date in his mind. Seven months from now. Surely, by then, he’ll have thought of the right gesture to win Aleria back.

Seven months.

He’s honestly not sure he’ll make it.

* * *

August 2nd, 2018

The hands of Erik’s gold watch blur before his eyes. His chest is tight. He’s lightheaded, and yet his limbs feel like they’re made of lead. It’s long past his normal rising time, but he can’t pull himself out of bed. The thought of comparing human and Sjelian brains and examining neural pathways and synaptic connections, as he has done every day for the past nine and a half months, fills him with dread. The only thing he can focus on is the image of Kristin placing this watch in a box, sitting at her vanity and penning the feelings of her heart on the anniversary note, and hiding it away to give to him when he returned from his run that morning.

One year ago today, she took their daughter for a drive.

One year ago today, he lost them both.

It feels like a lifetime ago, and if someone had asked him last week, he’d have said he was doing better. He no longer cries himself to sleep every night, only to succumb to nightmares. He can watch his cherished video of Eria on St. John and smile at the fond memory, instead of sobbing. He’s enjoying his work. He fits in relatively well among the Sjelians now, and his friendship with Kralo continues to deepen. He’s moving on, just as Stephan wanted him to do.

But the solidity of today’s date threatens to crush him. He’s overwhelmed. Incapacitated. Bright images of his loved ones’ smiles mix with horrifying recreations of their final moments. Laughter comingles with screams and crumpling metal. Rushes of love crash together with waves of fresh, horrendous sorrow in his chest.

Erik feels like he’s drowning, and without Aleria to talk to, he has no one to cling to as he’s pulled under.

He should have done more for Kristin and Eria. Should have realized that every moment with them was better than any accomplishment or self-indulgence. He clears the haze of tears from his eyes with the back of his hand and focuses on the date displayed in a smaller circle in the bottom right of the watch face. He sits up suddenly. Hanna’s birthday is less than two weeks away, on the fourteenth. He can see the white liquid-filled vial in Mandal’s office as clear as if it were sitting on his own chest of drawers. He couldn’t save Kristin… but maybe he can save her mother. If he goes back—when he goes back—he won’t just take the knowledge in his head. He’ll bring a cure.

He’ll do it in Kristin’s memory, and in Eria’s. He’ll do it for Stephan.

Something unclenches inside Erik, and he’s able to reach for his phone. He scrolls through his pictures, back and back and back, until he comes across one he took at Christmas a few years ago. Hanna is smiling and holding up the present they gave her: a cozy sweater and matching fuzzy socks. It wasn’t the clothing that put the smile on her face, however. Erik and Kristin had just told her that she was going to be a grandmother. Hanna had insisted on video-chatting with Kristin once a week for the duration of her pregnancy. Those weekly conversations continued throughout Eria’s first few years of life.

Erik puts his phone down and stares at the blank screen across from his bed, struck with a sudden idea. He knows what do—the perfect gift for Aleria.

Erik calls Kralo on his PAD, the grief that was weighing him down replaced by a buoyant ease. He can barely contain his excitement as he explains the necessary arrangements.

“What do you think, Kralo?” he finishes. “Can you help me?”

“Yes… it’s possible.” Kralo sounds cautiously optimistic. “If I do this, you’ll owe me.”

Erik smiles wide. “I’m not sure how I can ever repay you.”

Kralo chuckles. “You probably can’t.”

* * *

August 28th, 2018

Erik weaves through the long tables of the operations center to the one closest to the raised platform, where the directors overlook the three community screens hovering in the air. Kralo stands from his chair and smiles at Erik.

“Are we set?” Erik asks, hands fidgety with nerves.

“Yes. Everything is as you requested.”

Erik smiles wide. “Great, I can’t wait to see the look on Aleria’s face when she sees her birthday gift.”

Kralo looks at his PAD. “It’s time, Erik. Everyone will take their break in three minutes. Are you ready?”

Erik inhales deep and lets it out in a gust that blows up the hair resting on his forehead. “Yes.”

Kralo nods. “Okay… I’ll contact her now.”

Butterfly wings brush against the wall of Erik’s gut, making him feel both elated and slightly nauseous.

Kralo taps his PAD screen to life and types in Aleria’s name on the display. Her torso pops up between them when she answers, her holographic back to Erik, who doesn’t even dare cough.

“Can you come to the operations center, Aleria?” Kralo asks in a brisk, official-sounding voice.

"Is everything alright?" she responds.

"Yes, but we need you here as soon as possible.”

"Okay… on my way." Aleria’s holographic likeness puts her hands on an invisible desk and rises from her chair, and then the PAD display vanishes.

Kralo looks at Erik. “She’ll be here in less than five minutes. You know… if Theran finds out what we are doing, I could get in a lot of trouble.”

Erik nods. “I know. Thank you.” He puts a hand on Kralo’s shoulder, trying to convey the depths of his gratitude through the touch.

“Let’s hope this works.” Kralo turns to his desk computer screen and starts inputting commands.

* * *

When Aleria arrives, the first thing she sees is Kralo sitting at the communications console—with Erik standing by his side. Aleria stops in her tracks, eyes narrowing to a suspicious glare. “Did you ask me here to talk with Erik?” she demands, and Kralo shrinks back a little in his seat.

Erik rescues his friend by stepping forward. “I asked Kralo to help me give you your birthday gift.”

Aleria visibly jolts. “Birthday gift!”

Erik smiles. “Yes. Your gift.” He points to his left.

She follows his finger to the screen hovering over the middle of the table and almost collapses to the ground. She uses the desk to catch herself and compensate for her buckling knees. She puts her hand over her mouth and starts to cry.

Emeran is on the screen, smiling at his mom. He has her high cheekbones and full lips, but his nose is long and slender, and his hair is pitch-black rather than warm milk chocolate, like Aleria’s. “Hi, Mom. Happy birthday!”

She walks her hands across the desk, her legs following behind, and takes a seat in front of the holographic screen. Her voice starts to quiver. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Emeran nods and wipes away a tear of his own. “I’ve missed you too, Mom.”

She shakes her head. “How is this possible? We can’t use the communications channel for personal reasons.”

Emeran smiles at his mom. “Erik and Kralo were able to arrange all of this. You have good friends.”

Aleria looks over her shoulder at Erik. “Yes, I suppose I do.” She lets out a shaky breath that’s almost a laugh and turns back to the screen to smile at her son for the first time in more than ten months. “It’s so good to see your face again.” she says, her voice sounding more like herself.

Emeran smiles at his mom. “I have someone here that wants to meet her grandmother.” Emeran holds up his three-week-old baby girl—a chubby, perfectly round child with rosy cheeks and deep brown eyes that dart back and forth, unable to focus. Her tiny mouth opens just wide enough for her little tongue to make an appearance as her arms flail in a sudden burst of excitement. She closes her eyes, buckles in on herself, and sneezes. When she looks up, her eyes are wide, surprised by her own body. Aleria bends over the desk, arms planted on its sturdy surface, and begins to sob all over again. Then she collects herself and reaches out to the screen, fingertips brushing the image of her granddaughter’s cheeks.

Erik and Kralo are both wiping away their own tears.

“What’s her name?” Aleria asks, swiping at her wet face.

“Kayna,” says Emeran, tears rolling past the upturned corners of his lips.

“What a beautiful name,” Aleria murmurs, her trickling tears becoming a steady stream again. “You named her—”

Emeran smiles. “Yes… after her great-grandmother.”

Erik swallows hard to try and clear the lump in his throat, thinking, is Theran’s great-granddaughter. He should be here too.

“I wish I could hold her,” says Aleria, voice quivering.

“Hurry back, Mom… so you can.”

Kralo interrupts them to announce that they are going to lose their communication link in a few seconds, so they need to say their goodbyes.

"Bye … I love you… and happy birthday.”

She presses her fingers to her lips and gently sweeps the kiss toward the screen. “I love you too,” she says around a smile, “and give my granddaughter a kiss for me.”

The screen goes black.

Erik takes a few hesitant steps toward Aleria, but he can’t bring himself to close the full distance. He looks over at Kralo and shrugs. Kralo waves both hands in a “go on” gesture, but Erik is frozen, afraid to feel the chill of her rejection yet again.

Aleria scoots back her chair, forcing Erik to take a step back. She stands, turns with arms extended, and wraps him inside them, burying her head in his chest. Erik looks over at Kralo, at a loss for words.

Kralo just nods in that slow, wise Sjelian way, wearing a gratified smile.

Aleria looks up at Erik and says, “Can I talk with you alone?”

She stays close as they walk out of the operations center, her shoulder brushing against his, and Erik breathes easier than he has in months.

In the hallway, she pulls him to one side of the door and says, “These last few months have been extremely difficult for me.”

“They’ve been hard for me too,” Erik rushes to say.

“When Relek passed away, I promised myself that I wouldn’t get close to anyone… ever again. Then it happened.” Aleria wipes away her tears. “You came into my life. What you did, Erik… it really hurt me. That can never happen again.”

“It won’t. I will never betray your trust again.”

Her smile warms him. “This gift… I can’t put into words how important it was to me. Seeing my son… and my granddaughter for the first time…” She shakes her head. “No one has ever done anything like that for me.” She hugs Erik again. She pulls away too soon and looks up at him. “I’m willing to give you a second chance… to be your counselor and your friend.”

Erik is weak-kneed with relief. “Nothing would make me happier.”

* * *

August 29th, 2018

Erik and Aleria spend the whole next day smiling. Neither can contain their shared joy at being friends again.

As they walk from their respective offices to the Setustofa room, after work hours, Erik looks over at Aleria. "I still can't believe you’re a grandma. You look like you’re in your 20s.”

She rolls her eyes. "Twenties is a stretch, but thanks. Isn’t Kayna a beautiful baby girl?"

"She is… just like her grandmother.”

Aleria gives Erik a gentle shove. "They must have found out they were pregnant after we left.”

Erik nods. “We’ve been gone almost a year.”

Aleria sighs. “I won’t be able to hold Kayna until she is nearly eight.”

“It’s strange that more time won’t pass on Sjel. We are traveling just under the speed of light. Wouldn’t she be older than eight?” Erik pauses. “I’m not a physicist, so please excuse the confusion.”

Aleria lets out a soft laugh. “No, there won’t be much time dilation. There would be if we were traveling at the speed of light.”

Erik holds up a finger. “Or if we travel to the surface of the planet, and the gravity creates time dilation?”

“Correct. You may be more of a physicist than you let on.”

As they enter the Setustofa room, they see Mandal talking with Lina, who is sitting on the edge of the waterfall’s pool and running a petite hand through the cool water. Erik can see Kralo sitting by himself again. Aleria heads for Mandal and Lina, and Erik follows, looking back at Kralo and wondering what’s preventing his friend from making a move.

Mandal greets Aleria by saying, “Lina was telling me that you’re a grandmother. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. She is so beautiful,” says Aleria, her face glowing.

Erik looks over at Kralo, planning to wave, but the other man’s eyes are once again locked on Mandal. Erik excuses himself and walks over to Kralo, waving a hand in front of his friend’s eyes. “Why don’t you join us?”

Kralo shakes his head.

Erik stares at him for a long moment. “Aleria wanted me to get you so she can thank you. Come on.” Erik reaches out to grab Kralo’s hand. Kralo allows himself to be pulled up and dragged across the room. As they get closer to the women, Kralo’s stoic face is overtaken by an awkward, tight smile directed at Mandal.

“Hi,” he says, standing stiff with arms at his sides.

Mandal smiles back. “Hello, Kralo. Did you hear the exciting news about Aleria’s granddaughter?”

He nods and says, “Yes… I helped arrange the communication link.”

Mandal’s eyes light up. “Wow… that was nice of you. Maybe you could help me. I haven’t been able to talk with my sister since we left.”

“I could help,” Kralo says quickly—a little too quickly. He looks down at his feet and then back at Mandal’s dark eyes. “So… you don’t have a life partner?”

Erik can’t help but smile. Smooth, Kralo.

Luckily, Mandal doesn’t seem to mind the blunt question. “No, I’ve never found that special person.”

Kralo’s smile loosens and grows brighter, and Erik feels a matching brightness inside himself. Aleria is by his side once more. His world is back on its axis.

For a moment, he allows himself to think that Kristin would be proud.

Chapter 29

April 21st, 2019

Erik lets Aleria squeeze past him, down the tight aisle of seats in the transportation room. He does a crab walk to follow behind her. She sits stiff and straight and allows him to help her with her harness before taking his seat beside her.

“At least there won’t be any more portals after this one,” he says, securing the last buckle.

Aleria forces a smile and nods.

After everyone is seated and strapped in, the robotic female voice announces that they will be entering the portal in fifteen seconds. Erik’s shoulders are more relaxed than they were a year and a half ago, as he now knows what to expect. The lights go dim and his feet become weightless, hovering over the white floor when gravity is turned off. A few seconds later, the shaking begins.

Ninety seconds and it will be over.

Erik reaches over to place a light hand on Aleria’s arm. Her muscles are tense beneath his fingers. He keeps his eyelids heavy and breathes deep, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest. As they exit the portal, Erik thinks to himself, that wasn’t as bad as the first time.

Erik helps Aleria with her harness. “Only four hundred and thirty days until we reach the planet’s solar system.”

Aleria nods. “We’re through the worst of it. It won’t be long now.”

“When we reach the edge of the solar system, how long before the probes reach the planet and start gathering information?”

“We’ll send them out as soon as we arrive. Within twenty-four hours, we’ll know if there is life on the planet.”

Erik shakes his head as they filter out with the others. “Incredible.”

As they enter the Setustofa room, they see Mandal, Lina, and Kralo standing in a loose ring beside the waterfall, each with a cup of Slak in their hands. Erik smiles at the sight of Kralo leaning in to say something to Mandal. He still holds himself too straight, and his smile looks too… conscious, but it’s far better than seeing him sitting alone.

Lina grins at Aleria as they approach. She picks an extra cup off of the stone edge of the waterfall pool, hands it to Aleria, and says, “There wasn’t as much turbulence this time.”

“If you say so. I’m just glad we made it out safely.”

Kralo looks over at Aleria. “Are you trying to say that I’m not a good pilot?”

Aleria shakes her head. “Not at all. We made it out safely.”

“And now your job is done?” Erik asks Kralo. “You get to retire to the Setustofa room to relax?”

“As soon as we exited the portal,” Kralo explains, “we shifted to autopilot mode. I’ll monitor the systems and keep an eye on our trajectory, and then assume the helm again when we’re approaching our destination.”

Aleria takes a drink and says, “I wonder if Theran will want to organize a celebration?”

Erik’s brows raise. “Celebration?”

“Yes,” Aleria says. “It’s customary, to celebrate after we successfully travel through the last portal.”

Lina shoots Aleria a sarcastic grin. “I’m sure if you remind him, he’ll agree to one.”

“What are the celebrations like?” asks Erik.

“Everyone gathers here, in the Setustofa room,” says Aleria.

Erik chuckles. “How is that any different than what we do every day?”

Aleria shrugs. “I don’t know.” She looks over at Lina for support. “Theran gives a speech.” Lina nods, both of them looking at Erik.

Erik shakes his head. “That’s not a celebration! We have to do something fun… Something different.”

“What would you want to do?” Kralo asks, reaching around Mandal to pick up a second prepared glass, which he hands to Erik.

Erik takes a drink. “I don’t know… there should be music… and… we could dress in costumes.”

Lina snorts with laughter. “Costumes? Why would we dress in costumes?”

Erik gets a pang of loneliness and homesickness. He feels like the odd man out so much less frequently than he used to—but in moments like these, where his companions are all giving him puzzled and bemused stares, he desperately misses Earth. “Because,” he says, voice a bit testy, “it would be fun.”

Kralo tilts his head. “Where would we get costumes?”

Erik looks at Aleria, asking her a silent question with the widening of his eyes and the raising of his brows. At her nod, he answers Kralo. “Theran has hundreds of outfits in his storage room. There are eighteenth-century gowns, Roman soldier uniforms, togas, and even cowboy hats.”

Kralo’s eyes light up, and Erik grins back at him like a co-conspirator.

“Do you think Theran would let us borrow them?” Erik asks Aleria.

Aleria looks doubtful, but says, “I suppose it can’t hurt to ask.”

* * *

When Aleria starts yawning, Erik escorts her back to their rooms. Erik stops outside his door with his PAD half raised and says, “I have the perfect movie… what do you say?”

“I’ve seen all of your movies,” she says through another large yawn.

“And all of them are worth watching again and again,” he says.

“Which we have done,” Aleria counters, but she’s smiling.

“Join me,” Erik pleads in a low voice.

“All right.”

They settle into their customary places quickly, but as the movie comes to life on the screen, Erik scoots a few inches closer, under the pretense of getting comfortable. He is waiting for one of his favorite scenes, but as the first six minutes play out, he watches Aleria more than the actors, a thrumming in his veins. It’s been eight months since Aleria’s birthday and their reconciliation. They’ve become even better friends than they were before he broke her trust. The only thing they haven’t talked about is the electricity between them… but it’s there. Always buzzing, under the surface.

It’s different than what Erik felt when he was around Kristin. He and his wife had always had chemistry, but they’d never tried to stop themselves from acting on it. They started dating shortly after they met. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Erik glances over at Aleria again, thinking that if he touches her—really touches her—he might spontaneously combust.

But what if that’s all this is? What if acting on their physical impulses would ruin the friendship he cherishes so much? Erik knew, without question, that Kristin was his soulmate. They were a perfect match in every way. She was the mother of his child. They would have grown old together. He may not feel a constant, gaping hole inside him any longer, but he still thinks of her all the time. He lies in bed at night and talks to her. He describes the research he’s doing. The cure-all he’s going to bring back to Earth one day. The things he’s teaching his Sjelian colleagues. The way the vastness of space, at first so forbidding and overwhelming, has become a strangely comforting view outside the ship’s windows.

Aleria is here, now, and there’s no denying that there’s something between them—but Erik’s memories of Kristin run deep.

“Is everything okay?” Aleria asks softly, pulling Erik out of his thoughts.

He looks over to see her studying him with a sad smile on her face. He doesn’t want Aleria to ever feel sad. He wants to be the person who makes her happiest.

Of course, that’s how he felt about Kristin, too. “I’m great,” Erik says. When the song “Come and Get Your Love” starts to play through the hidden speakers, he jumps to his feet. “Dance with me.”

Aleria stares at his extended hand. “I don’t dance.”

“Come on… There might be dancing at the celebration. It’ll be good practice.” He grabs her hand and pulls her off the couch.

She heaves a sigh and throws back her head. “You’re ridiculous,” she says, but soon she is giggling uncontrollably as he twirls her in wild loops around the room. As the song ends, Erik supports her lower back and tries to dip her for a big finish, but she is caught unaware and her feet tangle in his, sending them both tumbling onto the couch.

Erik lands half on top of Aleria. For a moment, they stare into each other’s eyes, both of them holding their breath. Erik feels like he can feel Aleria’s heartbeat, a wild hummingbird beating against his chest. Then, abruptly, she squirms out from underneath him, clearing her throat. Her pale cheeks are flushed.

“Let’s finish the movie,” she says, voice husky.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

They both silently watch the film. Although Aleria doesn’t look over at Erik after their dance, she drifts closer and closer to his side.

Chapter 30

April 22nd, 2019

Erik swipes two fingers across the brain scan he’s studying, rotating the image approximately twenty-five degrees to the left. He zooms in, staring at a particular neural synapse that is highly active in Subject 2757, whom the Sjelians describe as a skilled musician. This pathway isn’t present in every test subject from Earth, which leads Erik to theorize that it has something to do with the creative process. He wants to cross-reference it with other subjects who are known to have artistic abilities.

This is how he spends his days: reading brain maps so much more detailed than anything his Human Connectome Project could hope to achieve. With every new data point he records, he feels one step closer to, well… bringing Earth one step closer to Sjel.

He looks up at a knock at his door. It’s Aleria. His smile bursts across his face, wide and welcoming, and Aleria mirrors it with a warm smile of her own. Erik wonders if “Come and Get Your Love” is playing in her head, too. “I talked to Theran this morning, about the costumes,” she says. “He actually agreed. I didn’t think he would.”

“That’s great! I have the perfect playlist.” He makes a mental note to add “Come and Get Your Love” to the lineup. “What day is the party?” he asks, his voice cracking, making him cough into a fist.

Aleria looks at her PAD. “It’ll be in two days.”

Erik nods. “I can’t wait.” He pauses. “About last night—”

“About your blood test,” Aleria blurts, at the same time.

And there it is. The elephant in the room. Or rather, the other elephant in the room, aside from their mutual attraction. They’ve avoided talking about Erik’s half-Sjelian status for months, ever since an argument back in November threatened to destroy the easy peace they’d worked so hard to cultivate.

“What about my blood test?” Erik asks, wary. “Did you talk to Theran about it?”

“No.” Aleria winces slightly as she says the word, as if anticipating Erik’s frustration. “I would like to wait until we arrive at the planet’s solar system, in fourteen months. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Erik’s brows rise. “Fourteen months? You’ve already waited more than a year.” He struggles to keep the accusatory tone from his voice. “Don’t you think this is something Theran should be made aware of?”

Aleria looks down at the ground and takes a deep breath. “I broke a rule… by having duplicate tests run without permission. Theran’s going to be upset, so… I thought I would wait until after we arrive at the planet’s solar system. When we reach our destination, I know he’s going to be distracted… and also a little excited and happy… and hopefully more forgiving.”

Erik tilts his head toward one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I suppose that makes sense. If you’re going to deliver bad news, might as well do it when the person is in a good mood.” He hesitates, nervous to press too hard, but continues, “You’re telling me that there haven’t been—and won’t be—any other occasions for Theran to be in a good mood, other than fourteen months from now?”

Aleria looks chastened, but confirms, “Our arrival will be the best time.”

“But he’s your—”

Aleria retreats from Erik’s office before he can finish his statement: that Theran is Aleria’s father, and she should be able to talk to him. He watches her shut her own office door, thinking again about the moment the two of them shared last night. He can’t help but feel disappointed that, as close as they’ve become, she still won’t prioritize his needs. It’s almost as big a barrier between them as his memories of Kristin.

Erik sneaks over to Lina’s office. “Can I talk with you?” he asks from the doorway.

She looks up from her computer screen. “Sure, what is it?”

“I didn’t want to ask Aleria,” he says as he takes a seat. “I wasn’t sure if she would be upset if I asked… but is it possible to find out who my biological father is?”

Lina shakes her head. “The medical files of the crew are confidential. We don’t have access.”

Erik sinks back in his chair. “I know my mom must have entered the Akureyri portal thirty-four years ago. She and my dad were living in Iceland at the time. She was forty-seven years old. They had tried for years and couldn’t get pregnant.” Erik grew up knowing he was his parents’ personal miracle. It was a blessing and a burden, trying to live up to that kind of standard. “Surely you can narrow down a list of Sjelians who had access to the portal, even if you can’t confirm paternity.”

Lina purses her lips but doesn’t answer.

Erik nods as he figures out what’s going on. “You’re protecting the person by not investigating. Whoever impregnated my mother, broke a fundamental tenet.”

Lina folds her hands on her desk. “Yes.”

“But why would someone do that?”

She shrugs. “We have no idea, Erik.”

“Well… hopefully we’ll find out when Aleria talks to Theran…” Erik massages his temple with his thumb and forefinger. “In fourteen months.”

* * *

Erik still feels pensive as he and Aleria head out of the evaluation center later that day. He has so many questions to ask her, and he doubts she’ll answer them to his satisfaction. So, he tries to focus on the positive: the celebration. “I’m surprised Theran agreed to let us go through his relic room.”

“Me too.” Aleria stops in front of the access panel and waves her PAD. As the door slides open to admit them into the hall, Erik spies Akril walking in their direction. She turns her nose up at him, and he rolls his eyes. If the woman hasn’t warmed to him yet, he doubts she ever will.

Erik enters the storage room and walks among the clothes—some displayed on manikins, others tucked away in trunks. “There are plenty of costumes for everyone. How many outfits are there?”

Aleria turns in a circle. “I’m not sure. Hundreds…”

Erik looks over his left shoulder and sees the door slide open. Akril crosses the threshold, flattening a single stray hair at the top of her blonde bob back into its proper place. She surveys the room with a sneer. Erik whispers to Aleria, “I wonder why she’s here.”

“Whatever it is, it won’t be—”

“What you’re doing is an abomination!” Akril shouts.

Aleria whirls around and glares into Akril’s fierce, beady eyes. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Akril draws herself to her full height as she stalks toward Aleria, but the top of her head still only reaches Aleria’s shoulder. “This is a Sjelian celebration. We shouldn’t be glorifying violence.”

“How are we glorifying violence?” Erik asks, standing at Aleria’s side to back her up.

Akril jabs a perfectly manicured finger at one of the ornate gowns. “This represents death. The people of Earth are killers, and you want to dress up like them? It’s sickening!”

Erik looks at the ceiling, practicing patience. “You’re being ridiculous. We’re not glorifying violence. I know you would like to think that everyone on Earth is violent, but that’s not the case. Most people never commit an act of violence in their life. Yet you’re going to classify everyone as violent. There’s a word for people like you: bigot.”

Aleria steps in between Erik and Akril, a hand on Erik’s chest but her eyes on Akril. “Just leave.”

Akril’s jaw works as she narrows her eyes to slits. “I plan to inform the General Council of this celebration!”

Aleria crosses her arms. “You go right ahead… and tell your mother.”

Akril lets out a sound like a yowling cat and turns on her heel. When the door closes behind her, Erik shakes his head. “Does she ever smile?”

“Don’t let her bother you.”

“I won’t.” Erik looks over at the Venus De Milo statue recreation. His mind returns to the complex relationship between Aleria and Theran—a relationship she rarely brings up. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that these things were made for your mother?”

Aleria startles. “How did you know these things were made for my mother?”

“I was here with Theran, some time ago. He said that he’d had them made for his wife. And then when you spoke with Emeran, on your birthday last year, the baby’s name, for her great-grandmother, was the same as the name Theran mentioned as his wife’s…” Erik lifts his hands as if to say, I put two and two together.

Aleria’s face is painted with discomfort. “I wasn’t ready to share something so… personal.”

Erik thinks, we’ve known each other for almost two years. But aloud, he says, “Theran said that your mother loved Earth.”

“She did.” Aleria stares off into a far corner, lost in her memories. “I don’t know much about my mother’s home planet. She never really talked about it. Instead, she would talk about her mom’s… my grandmother’s home planet. She said they lacked creativity and imagination. There was no diversity at all.” Aleria trails her fingers along the keys of the Steinway Upright and chuckles. “They thought my grandmother was strange because she liked to sing and dance.”

“I don’t understand. Your mom and grandmother are not from the same planet? How is that possible?”

Aleria shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Erik can’t tell if Aleria truly doesn’t know, or if she’s simply ready for the conversation to end. He throws her a lifeline by changing the subject. “If everyone thinks like Akril, then no one will show up at the celebration.”

Aleria smiles with relief. “No one else thinks like her. Everyone is excited for the celebration. Some people have already picked out costumes.”

“Sjelians seem so introverted. Why is this bringing everyone out of their shells?”

“Our evolution has been beneficial. We have eliminated violence and are no longer driven by power and greed. But… we have lost something along the way.”

“What’s that?”

Aleria’s eyes find Erik’s. “Our creativity. Our courage to risk failure. Sjelians are afraid to take a chance.”

“Really?” He thinks of all of the brain scans he’s been studying. Sure, Sjelians have three times as many neural pathways as present-day Earth inhabitants… but are there synapses representing positive traits—creativity, daring—that Sjelians have lost?

“The people of Earth risk failure all the time.” Aleria tilts her head. “I’m sure you have risked failure with your HCP study.”

Erik nods vehemently. “Not long ago, I gave a presentation to two hundred of the most accomplished neuroscientists on Earth. I was scared to death.”

“You were scared, but you still gave the presentation.”

“True.”

“Most Sjelians wouldn’t have been able to give that presentation. The fear of failure is just too overwhelming. That is partly why we have stopped creating art… movies, music, paintings, and literature. The fear of rejection is a strong deterrent.”

“Wow, I had no idea.” Erik studies her face, not far from his. “You said partly?”

“We have also lost artistic creativity over the years.”

Erik’s brows narrow as his suspicion is confirmed. “But… what about the murals and sculptures in the Setustofa room?”

“They were created by Sjelians long ago.”

Erik sighs. “That’s kind of sad.”

Aleria nods, breaking eye contact. “Everyone on this vessel worked on the space station. Their job was to evaluate the people from Earth, so they are familiar with your movies and music. Most people enjoy them. I have no doubt that everyone, except of course Akril, will dress up in costumes and enjoy listening to the music. In fact, I think they will actually dance at the celebration.”

Erik’s eyes light up. “If it’s something that people would enjoy doing, then why haven’t they done this in the past? Kralo said that you have never done this before.”

“No one has had the courage to suggest something so different and unusual… until you.”

“It’s funny how alike we are… and yet so different at the same time.”

“My mom was much different than Sjelians. She had this way about her that was so similar to the people from Earth. She was a lot like you. In fact, she knew things about Earth that…” Aleria stops herself, looking at her shoes.

“What?”

Aleria shakes her head. “Nothing.” She sucks in a breath and raises her head, an overly sunny smile on her face. “I bet you can’t guess what her favorite thing in this room is?”

Erik shrugs and points to the wall. “Those paintings?”

“No.” She taps one of the piano’s black keys.

Erik tilts his head. “This piano?”

“Yes… That’s a Steinway Upright. It’s an exact replica of the piano that John Lennon used to write the song ‘Imagine’.”

Erik’s forehead creases as his eyebrows leap. “Really? Wow.”

“That was my mom’s favorite song. She loved the lyrics.” Aleria smiles wistfully, and Erik has a sudden, irrational desire to sit down and hammer out the tune, despite the fact that he never mastered the instrument. Unfortunately, his childish efforts would probably ruin the sweet memory for Aleria, so he restraints himself.

They spend the next hour gathering supplies, working in a companionable silence, before walking back to their rooms. “No time for a movie tonight,” Aleria says gently when they stop halfway between their two doors. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Erik says, waiting for her to let herself into her room before he enters his own. As he gets ready for bed, his mind returns to what Aleria said about Sjelians’ risk-aversion. Is that why she’s so reluctant to tell Theran about his test results? Or is there some other reason he’s being kept in the dark?

He shakes off the suspicion almost immediately. He may not know exactly what to do about Aleria, in an… interpersonal sense. But he trusts her. All the more so because he’s seen what happens when a Sjelian feels that a trust has been broken. Erik trusts Aleria, and he would rather spend time with her than anyone else on board, and he wants to be close to her, and he hopes she feels the same.

He can’t wait to see her tomorrow. He falls asleep picturing her smile.

Chapter 31

April 24th, 2019

Erik looks at his PAD. It’s 6:30 p.m.

The party starts in thirty minutes. I’d better get ready.

His PAD flashes, and he answers the call. “Hi, Aleria. Is the Setustofa room decorated?”

Aleria appears, still in her uniform. “Yes. Do you have your playlist ready?”

“I do. It’s on my computer. I labeled it…” He pauses, drawing out the drama. “‘Earth playlist’.”

Aleria lets out a soft laugh. “Great, I’ll access it now. See you at seven.”

Erik opens up a dresser drawer and finds his blue jeans and polo shirt. He hasn’t touched the garments, other than to transport them from his room on the space station to this room on the exploration vessel, since the day he came through the portal. The sight of Earth clothes starts to bring back memories of Kristin and Eria. The faint scents of dirt and grass still cling to the fabric, barely hanging on, but he presses the articles to his nose, relishing the nostalgia.

A memory bubbles up out of the recesses of his mind: Eria was with him when he bought this shirt. She’d taken her job as shopping helper so seriously, making him hold up a full spectrum of colors until she was satisfied. He’d let her help pay, too, handing her his wallet so she could count out the correct change.

Eria would be almost nine now. How tall would she be? Would she still crave his hugs the way she did when she was little?

His eyes water, and he tries to shake himself out of it. Not tonight.

He gets dressed and checks his hair in the mirror. With a few minutes to spare, he walks toward the Setustofa room, wondering how many people will actually show up. He envisions himself, Aleria, Theran, Lina, Mandal, and Kralo staring at each other awkwardly in an echoey room. He’s become friendly enough with most of his crew-mates over the past year and a half, but he still often feels like an outsider. What if everyone has been waiting for this precise moment to show Erik how far from fitting in he still is?

As Erik turns the corner, his jaw drops. He stands at the entrance to the Setustofa room in complete shock. Almost the entire crew is present, all dressed in different costumes. The Venus De Milo statue is sitting beside the waterfall, as if enjoying the view. A motorcycle is propped against one wall, with a small crowd of admirers reaching for its chrome handlebars and plush leather seat. The Steinway Upright holds a place of honor in front of the executive leaders’ statues, who look down on it, ready to be serenaded.

A disco ball hangs from the ceiling, and in its shifting, iridescent lights, women in enormous hoop skirts, 1980s workout clothes (complete with leg warmers), and tasseled pink cowgirl jackets admire the décor alongside men donned in leather, pirate hats, and colonial garb. A group of 1970s hippies chats with toga-draped Greeks and a sultry Cleopatra by the Slak dispensers. Erik looks down at his bland outfit and wishes he had picked out a real costume.

He sees Kralo walking across the dance floor, dressed in a ten-gallon cowboy hat and snakeskin boots.

“You look great, Kralo.”

Kralo smiles at Erik. “Do I look like an authentic cowboy?”

“Definitely.” I’m sure there are bald, pale-skinned cowboys, Erik thinks with an internal grin.

The music starts, and the song “Saturday Night Fever” by the Bee Gees fills the room. Erik watches in delight as Sjelians swarm the dance floor, moving among the disco ball’s shifting lights. Erik’s jaw drops as he sees Theran out on the dance floor, wearing an Angels Flight suit. He looks like a bald John Travolta.

Following Theran’s lead, the Sjelians start up an awkward line of disco jives, most of them off rhythm. But there is a smile on everyone’s face. Erik can’t contain his amazement. This advanced race is traveling millions of light years across several galaxies and is about to arrive at a newly discovered planet, and they are dancing to the Bee Gees.

Even Kralo is smiling, standing stiff as a board beside Erik, who follows his gaze to see Mandal with her hair curled and loose around her shoulders. She looks lovely in a yellow satin eighteenth-century gown, the bodice adorned with scarlet bows.

Erik leans into Kralo’s shoulder and whispers, “Go ask her to dance.”

Kralo shakes his head, looking wistful but rooted to the floor.

As the song ends, everyone pauses mid-move. The next song on Erik’s playlist is by Toto: “I Won’t Hold You Back Now.” As the slow melody starts, the dancers look sideways at one another and disperse like cockroaches under a light. Erik almost laughs when he realizes a way to get the party started again and repay the favor he owes Kralo. He grabs the other man by the arm and walks him across the dance floor. Kralo tries to pull back, but when Mandal’s eyes find him and her brows raise in confusion, he turns into jelly and allows Erik to haul him in front of her.

“Can you two do me a favor?” says Erik, grinning as they stare at each other, their chests rising with shallow breaths. “Dance to this song?”

“I—” Kralo clamps his mouth shut.

“Do it for me,” Erik urges. “Do it for the celebration. Everyone will follow your lead.”

Kralo gives Erik a long look. Then he turns his eyes toward Mandal and says, “Would you like to dance?”

She smiles back, her face framed by her light brown hair. “I would love to, Kralo.”

Kralo gives Mandal his hand and leads her slowly onto the dance floor, where he pulls her in with a gentle hand on her lower back. A beaming Erik looks past the couple and spots Aleria. His heart gallops. Her hair, usually at least half tied back with her customary black clip, trails freely past her shoulders. A small French braid at her temple pulls it back from her face and ends in a red ribbon. Free of her boxy, loose-fitting uniform, her strong arms, slender waist, and hourglass hips are flattered by a knee-length white sundress overlaid in lace.

Erik is reminded of the dress that Kristin wore in St. John. For a moment, sorrow steals his breath away. But the pain is fleeting, because within seconds, he wants nothing more than to be by Aleria’s side.

He hurries across the dance floor. “You look… amazing. That dress… it’s incredible.”

Aleria smiles, pink circles blooming on her cheeks. “Thanks. You look great too.”

“I feel underdressed,” Erik says, feeling as bashful as a teenager. “Everyone has on such great outfits. I just have these boring jeans and polo shirt.”

Aleria reaches out a hand. She brushes the edge of his collar without actually touching Erik’s body, and yet he feels her touch everywhere. “Your clothing is authentic,” she says simply. “Everything else here is a replica.”

“True.” Erik’s heart expands at her kind words. “Thank you.”

They move to stand at the edge of the dance floor, watching everyone, their hands almost, but not quite, touching.

Aleria gestures at the couple at the center of the floor. “I saw what you did for Kralo and Mandal.”

“Well, it was about time. He’s been pining after her since I met him.”

“Longer, actually. They’ve had feelings for each other for…” Aleria frowns delicately. “Two years?”

Erik shakes his head. “And they’ve never acted on those feelings?” As he says it, he hears the subtext.

So, apparently, does Aleria. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye. “No.”

“You’re right about Sjelians. They do have a strong fear of rejection.”

* * *

Erik knocks back his fifth cup of Slak, laughing along with Aleria as they watch Lina and a man Erik hasn’t spent much time with do a funky dance at the center of the dance floor. When the song ends, Erik steels himself. He made the playlist; he knows what’s next. “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” starts to play. Erik turns to face Aleria. The words he intended to say fly out of his brain, and he has to stand there for few moments, searching for them. She looks at him expectantly, and finally he says, “May I have this dance?”

She smiles and puts her hand out. Erik gently encloses her soft hand in his, and they walk side by side to the middle of the dance floor. He puts his right arm around her waist while his left hand holds up her right. She puts her free hand on his shoulder and stares unabashedly into his eyes. The slow tempo has once again driven more than half the Sjelians from the dance floor, and there is plenty of space to take up a casual waltz around the floor, but Erik and Aleria are content dancing in a slow circle. Erik leads Aleria into a turn and spies Kralo and Mandal over her shoulder, smiling shyly at each other as they dance together.

Erik looks at Aleria. Her crystal blue eyes are staring directly into his. There is a look on her face he’s never seen before. She slides her warm hand off his shoulder, down his arm, and around his back. A shiver runs down his spine as she rests her head on his chest. He senses the blood rushing to his face and welcomes the long-lost sensation of holding someone dear.

Erik’s heart twinges, and he feels Aleria shiver, but she doesn’t let go and so he doesn’t either. He closes his eyes and rests his chin on the top of her head, drinking in the lavender scent of her silky brown hair. He eases his left arm around her waist, pulling her even closer, and can feel her hand tracing slow circles on his back. His whole body relaxes, melting into hers.

They sway to the rhythm of the song, like reeds in a gentle breeze, until Erik recognizes the song’s final chorus. He wishes it would play again, but he programmed the playlist with no repeats. He can only hope that her touch will not end with the song. When the last note plays, hanging in the air and then fading away, Aleria pulls back to look at him, her arms still around his waist. Erik’s pulse pounds as he leans down, feeling her breath caress his face.

But before their lips can touch, Aleria releases him, one arm swinging awkwardly by her side. “I have to go.” She turns and weaves her way through the crowd toward the exit, without looking back. Erik is rooted to the dance floor, watching her leave in helpless disbelief.

* * *

Erik lies on his bed in the dark, replaying the moment over and over. He can feel Aleria’s soft touch on his back, the weight of her head on his chest, the euphoria filling his head like a drug. He can smell the fresh, slightly sweet scent of Slak on her breath as he leans in, his lips teasing hers, and then he can see her face shift, feel her retreat from him. His whole body recoils from the image, making him cringe and groan as he puts a hand to his forehead. He looks at his PAD to find that it is 11p.m. He has been lying here for an hour.

What happened? he asks himself for the twelfth time.

His flashing PAD makes him sit up too fast, blood rushing from his head. Aleria’s name blinks at him. He turns on the lights and answers, unsure if he should smile or act like he just woke up.

“Can we talk, Erik?” her floating image asks.

Before he can answer, she buzzes his room. He scrambles out of bed, rubbing his hands over his polo to smooth the wrinkles. He slams his shin on the corner of the bed and muffles a curse as he hobbles to the door and lets her in. He smiles awkwardly at her, rubbing at his leg, and notices that she is no longer wearing her white dress. Her hair is up in a ponytail and she’s back in a light blue uniform.

“I wanted to talk to you about… us,” she says, her face unreadable.

Erik straightens up in silence, studying her deep blue eyes for some clue of what she’s thinking. But this isn’t the Aleria he thinks of as his—the one who smiles easily, who can be mischievous and sly and even a little sarcastic. This is the mask she wears, and he can’t see beneath it.

“There’s something that I haven’t told you… about my mother,” she says as he steps aside to admit her.

“Your mother?”

“I told you that she isn’t Sjelian, but what I didn’t tell you… was that she had… has… certain abilities that Sjelians don’t have. I have those same abilities.”

“What abilities?”

She gives him a guilty look. “I can sense certain feelings.”

“Most people can sense feelings,” Erik says, confusion clear on his face.

Aleria sighs in frustration, chewing at the inside of her cheek while she grapples for the right words. “This is different. I don’t need to see or hear someone to know exactly what they are feeling. I also know when people are untruthful.” Her eyes bore into Erik’s. “I can sense that you’re conflicted. I think you’re falling in love with me.”

“Love!” Erik exclaims, about to argue… but he can’t. He staggers back a few steps, feeling as though he’s had the wind knocked out of him.

Can he love again? It’s clearly too late for that question. But should he even try? Are his feelings for Aleria a betrayal of his life with Kristin? Is he betraying his daughter?

“I can also sense that this love is tearing you apart.” Aleria’s next breath is shaky, as though obstructed by a growing lump in her throat. “You’re conflicted.”

Erik sits on the bed and rubs his hands over his face, exhaling a deep breath. He nods, flicking his gaze toward her but not really making eye contact. “You’re right. I’m in love with you, and I don’t know what to do.”

She sits next to him and puts a hand over his interlaced fingers. She gives his hands a gentle squeeze and says, “You need to resolve those feelings before we can be together.”

Erik shakes his head slowly. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Aleria manages to smile, but there’s so much sadness in her eyes. “You’ll have to figure it out.” Her arms wrap around him in a warm embrace that ends too quickly, and then she walks out.

Chapter 32

June 21st, 2020

Erik looks up from his desk to find Aleria lingering in his doorway. There is worry in the set of her jaw that she tries to erase when he catches her eye.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks lightly.

This is how it’s been between them for over a year. They enjoy each other’s company, as friends and colleagues. They work closely together each day, Aleria mentoring Erik in her capacity as lead neuroscientist, preparing him for the work they may have to do once they reach the unknown planet. Meanwhile, they duck and weave around anything too meaningful. They try to avoid digging deeper and causing each other pain. It’s not easy, but if Aleria can maintain the façade, so can he.

It is a façade—at least for Erik. He still, after all this time, wants more.

Aleria drums her fingers on the doorframe and watches the gesture with feigned interest. “We arrive in two days, so I think it’s time to have a talk with Theran about your blood test.”

A jolt of worry goes through Erik, and for once, he doesn’t try to hide it. “Can I come with you?”

“Yes. I told Theran that we would meet him in an hour.”

“An hour! You couldn’t give me more notice?”

“I had to work around Theran’s schedule,” Aleria says, giving him an apologetic look. “I have a little work to finish up in my office. See you soon.” She leaves, but then pokes her head back into Erik’s office. “By the way, happy birthday.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He gives her a wan smile.

“We’ll celebrate in the Setustofa room tonight,” Aleria says. “I’ll inform the others.”

Erik nods. “Great.”

Unable to focus, he fiddles around in his own office until Aleria comes to fetch him an hour later. The walk to Theran’s office in the operations section is a long one. Erik waves at Kralo as they pass through the main workspace, but Aleria leads him up onto the platform and into a back room. Erik’s jaw drops. Theran’s office is at least ten times the size of his. The large window behind Theran’s desk provides him a view of open, unexplored space. A star burns bright in the distance, and the dark spots of floating asteroid chunks cross in front of the burning red ball.

Theran stands up, bows his head, and says, “Have a seat.”

Only when Erik and Aleria take their seats across from Theran’s desk does he join them and relax into his chair.

“What did you want to talk about?” asks Theran.

Aleria looks over at Erik, who inches closer to her for support, and then back at Theran. “I ran a duplicate blood test on Erik, not long after we boarded this vessel.”

Theran’s expression turns thunderous. Deep ruts appear in his forehead, and he lifts up out of his seat as he leans over the desk and asks, “Without permission?”

Aleria keeps her head high, but Erik sees her swallow hard. “Yes. Erik exhibited certain abilities that… are simply not possible based on his initial neuroimaging results.”

Theran shakes his head, plopping back down in his seat and rubbing an index finger over the cleft of his chin. “You should have come to me first, Aleria.”

“I understand… but what’s done is done. And you need to hear what I found.” She takes an unsteady breath, her eyes flicking momentarily to Erik again. “Erik has Sjelian DNA.”

Erik expects Theran’s jaw to drop, as his did when he read the report, but Theran’s expression remains stony. The ruts in his forehead deepen as he glares at Aleria for a few moments. “You should have discussed this with me before informing Erik.”

“I had planned to, but Erik discovered the truth on his own.”

Theran throws an angry glance Erik’s way. “When? How long has he known this?”

“Two and a half years,” Erik says. The words sound ridiculous as they fall out of his mouth. Why did he let Aleria wait so long to talk to Theran? Why didn’t he approach the man himself, once it became clear Aleria wasn’t ready?

If the expression on the commander’s face is any indication… maybe not.

Theran accesses his PAD and Erik can hear the sound of a call being made. But no floating torso appears when the call is answered with a muffled “Yes?”

“Come to my office,” Theran growls.

Aleria’s eyebrows furrow. “Who was that?”

“I suspect you already know,” says Theran grimly.

Erik perks up at full attention, but when neither of them says anything else, he follows their example, waiting in silence until Reshal walks into the room in his maroon uniform. Reshal looks around, taking in his audience, and then closes his eyes slowly. “They know?”

“Yes,” says Theran. “Apparently, they have for several years.”

Aleria looks over at Reshal, her face now as severe as her father’s, and shakes her head. “I don’t understand. Why did you do it?”

Reshal takes a seat and looks at Erik with sad eyes. “I’m so sorry, Erik. I couldn’t think of any other way to save the people of Earth. That’s why I impregnated your mother, and those two other women. Sjelian blood can be used as a vaccine.”

Erik stares at Reshal in shock, not really processing the words. This is my biological father, not the man that raised me for eighteen years of my life.

Aleria, however, raises a brow and asks, “A vaccine for what?”

Reshal’s serene demeanor cracks at the edges as he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “In the Earth year 1984, Theran, Akril, and I met with the General Council to discuss the fate of Earth. We believe that it will be uninhabitable by the year 2132.”

Now it is Erik’s turn to look severe. “Why?”

“Based on Akril’s research, the accumulation of water vapor, carbon dioxide, methane, and nitrous oxide into Earth’s atmosphere will result in the melting of the arctic permafrost by the year 2053. Trapped in this permafrost is 1.8 billion tons of carbon. Once released, this carbon will evaporate into methane, which is thirty-four times more powerful than carbon dioxide. If this happens, Earth will be uninhabitable by the year 2132.”

Erik looks at Aleria, relieved to see that she appears as bowled over as he feels. “But…” he begins, looking at Reshal with trepidation in his eyes and an uneasy feeling in his gut, “If the permafrost won’t melt until 2053… we still have time to save Earth.”

Reshal shakes his head. “No… if these gases continue to be released into Earth’s atmosphere, then by the year 2025, it’ll be too late to reverse the effects. The contamination has to stop before 2025.” Reshal looks at his lap, where his palms are running over his thighs. “The General Council made a decision, to save Earth. To stop these gases from being released into the atmosphere before 2025.”

“I don’t understand,” Erik says. “Aleria, what is he saying?”

Aleria looks at Theran. “Sjelian blood is a vaccine?” Theran nods, so she turns to Erik. “They decided that the only way to save the planet… was to release a disease to winnow the population.”

Reshal lowers his eyes, shame making his smooth features droop. “Yes. They sent two capsules to the surface of Earth. One in Antarctica and the other in Greenland. Once the capsules are exposed to the sun, the morphons will be released… infecting all but four million humans.”

Erik’s numbness recedes. All at once, he feels nothing but hot anger. “What the hell are morphons?” he shouts, his furious voice echoing back to him from the sterile white walls.

Reshal’s voice is calm as a forest stream as he says, “They are like… flying insects that carry deadly viruses. They are resilient to just about any condition.” He pauses, forcing his eyes to Erik’s. “Morphons do not reproduce oviparously like most insects. They actually replicate—and can do so outside a living host.”

Aleria turns to Reshal. “Why not just send a capsule to the surface of Earth in the year 2025?” she demands. “Why embed the capsules in the ice sheets?”

“It was a way for the General Council to ease their consciences… so they wouldn’t feel responsible for killing billions of innocent people. They believe that the people of Earth control their own fate.”

Erik makes a thick, ugly sound, deep in his throat. “How is that possible?”

Theran speaks up this time. “If the humans were to stop releasing these gases into Earth’s atmosphere, then the ice sheets in Antarctica and Greenland would not break and the morphons would not be exposed. They would just continue to be buried in the ice. However, if humans continued to release these toxic gases, then the temperatures on Earth would rise, and the ice sheets would melt. The councilmembers believed that by placing the capsules in the ice sheets, they could ensure that the people of Earth would bear responsibility for their own future.”

Aleria’s nostrils flare like an angry bull. She whips her head toward Reshal. “Why two capsules?”

Reshal clears his throat, looking a tad nervous under her burning gaze. “In 1984, we couldn’t determine with one-hundred-percent certainty which ice sheet would break by the year 2017, although we assumed it would be Antarctica.”

“2017?!” Erik feels woozy as his blood leaves his brain and settles in the tips of his fingers and toes. “You’re saying… the ice sheet has already cracked. The virus has already been released.” With a strangled moan of shock and horror, he puts his elbows on the table and drops his face into his hands, rubbing at his eyes until they are bloodshot. He slowly lifts his head, fighting an emotion so big that he is afraid to explore it. If he allows himself to feel it or understand it, he’s sure he’ll collapse beneath its weight. “How long before everyone on Earth is dead?”

Reshal tries to hold Erik’s baleful gaze but can’t. “We determined that it will take five and a half years for the morphons to reach warmer temperatures, where they will start infecting humans.”

Aleria’s eyebrows draw together. “Why will it take that long? It shouldn’t take more than two weeks to infect all of Earth’s population.”

“The General Council decided that there should be survivors. The morphons were altered so they would be dormant in freezing temperatures. That is why it will take over five years for the morphons to reach their first human host. We believe that the outbreak will occur in January of 2023, which could mean that…” Reshal clears his throat. “There will be at least three hundred million survivors after the first wave. However, once the planet starts to warm, all but four million will become infected. I pleaded with the Council to send a third capsule to the surface after the initial outbreak, with a vaccine, so there would be more than just four million survivors… but they said no.”

Aleria’s stony expression softens just a fraction. “That’s why you impregnated those three women,” she says to Reshal. “So there would be a way to create a vaccine?”

Reshal nods vigorously, looking to Erik. “Yes. I knew that Sjelian blood could be used as a vaccine. I had to try something.”

Aleria is wearing the expression Erik often sees on her face as she’s working out a particularly complex problem. “How could you possibly know that Sjelian blood can be used as a vaccine?”

Reshal looks over at Theran, who gives him a resigned shrug, as if to say, They already know this much… “After our meeting on Sjel,” Reshal explains, “we returned to the space station with the two capsules. I opened the capsules and did a thorough analysis, before they were sent to Earth.”

Erik looks to Aleria, wondering how she must be feeling about her father’s awful secret. And Reshal… Erik can’t even think of the older Sjelian as his father. The horror of Reshal’s actions still stings like a personal, vindictive slap to the face.

Erik grinds his teeth as he turns toward Reshal. “If the morphons won’t reach warm enough temperatures to infect hosts until the year 2023, then we still have time to stop this thing. My blood can be used as a vaccine. I need to return to Earth.”

“We can’t return to Earth,” says Theran with the finality of one who is used to being obeyed swiftly and completely. “We are in the middle of a mission.”

“Fuck this mission!” Erik shouts, jumping to his feet. “We need to save the people of Earth!”

Theran’s eyes widen and he reels back, looking to Reshal and Aleria with an expression that says, Did he really just say that… to me?

Reshal pipes in quickly, “Erik, even if we could return in time for you to provide a vaccine, it wouldn’t matter. You have to understand, I had access to those capsules before they were sent to Earth. Instead of just testing them, I could have terminated the morphons completely.”

Erik throws up his hands and screams, “Then why didn’t you?”

Reshal flinches, but his voice is unchanged as he says, “The General Council monitors all communications on Earth. They would know if no one is infected by the year 2023. They would know if a vaccine is being developed.”

“So, what if they know?”

“They are expecting the morphons to infect the humans within a certain time frame,” Reshal says. “If no one becomes infected by the year 2025, then they will send another capsule to the surface of Earth… but this time, the morphons won’t be dormant in freezing temperatures and it won’t be possible to develop a vaccine. All humans would die.”

Erik sinks back into his chair, his overwhelming feeling of helplessness weighing down his limbs. “I don’t understand. Why impregnate my mom and those other two women? If the General Council finds out there’s the chance of a vaccine, won’t they send the third capsule anyway?”

Reshal shakes his head. “The vaccine won’t be discovered until after the outbreak. Within a few weeks of the initial outbreak, all communications on Earth will cease, and the General Council will no longer be able to monitor the situation. They will have no way of knowing a vaccine is being developed. As a result, there could be as many as three hundred million survivors, instead of only four million.”

Erik can hardly muster the strength required for anger anymore. He feels hollowed out, skeletal. “You’re telling me that a vaccine can’t be developed until after the initial outbreak… until after all communication is lost?”

Reshal nods.

Aleria speaks carefully, studying Reshal. “Your plan was to provide a way to create a vaccine with Sjelian blood. There are only three people on Earth…” She looks over at Erik and corrects herself. “… two people on Earth with Sjelian blood. How will they know they have Sjelian blood, and that it can be used to create a vaccine?”

“I left a note in the capsules, explaining that there are three immune individuals whose blood can be used as a vaccine,” says Reshal. “I hope that my message will be announced to everyone on Earth, shortly after the outbreak.”

Aleria shakes her head, brows furrowed in confusion. “But… they have to first realize they are immune. If they do somehow figure this out, then they need to hear the announcement—without reliable communication devices—that an immune person’s blood can be used to create a vaccine.” She scoffs at Reshal and then throws up a hand as she says, “The odds are…”

Reshal holds up a hand. “I know…” He sighs. “But I had to do something.”

“There are two others like me?” Erik asks Reshal.

Reshal at last holds Erik’s gaze. “Yes, and you know them.”

“How could I possibly know them?”

“Your mother was friends with the other two women.”

Erik’s eyes are wide. “Who are they?”

“Fresler and Karena.”

Erik rocks back in his chair and puts a hand into his hair. “Oh, my God!” He looks at Aleria. “Fresler, Karena, and I were childhood friends.” Erik looks back at Reshal. “We can’t leave it to chance. Fresler and Karena may never figure out they’re immune… and even if they do, they may never hear the message that their blood can be used to create a vaccine. We have to let them know. You have to take me back to Earth!”

She puts her hand on Erik’s arm. Together, they face the two senior officers.

“Open communications with Earth,” Erik demands. “Tell the space station to warn them what’s coming.”

“No,” says Theran, voice firm. “We can’t order someone on the space station to break a fundamental tenet and contact Fresler and Karena.” Theran looks between Reshal and Erik. “Even if we could… what would we tell them? We couldn’t say, ‘Don’t do anything about the coming pandemic until after all communication on Earth is lost.’ They would immediately begin to formulate the vaccine, and the General Council would discover the truth. Your friends would not be able to let billions die, even if that’s the only way to save the rest of humanity.”

Erik grits his teeth and clenches his fists. “What gives the General Council the right to kill people on a planet that is not even their own? What gives them the right to kill anyone? And Sjelians are supposed to be committed to nonviolence—”

“They felt that it was the only way to save Earth.” Theran sighs, the resolve in his face slipping as he rubs his forehead. “If Earth becomes uninhabitable, then all humans will die, regardless.”

Erik feels the stinging heat of tears in his eyes. “That’s not their decision to make!” He bangs his fists on the table, pushes himself up from his chair, and stalks out of the room.

When the door closes behind him, the three Sjelians sit in silence for several moments. Finally, Aleria asks Reshal, “Why did you only impregnate three women?”

He looks at Theran, as if for permission, but Theran just remains stone-faced, staring straight ahead. Reshal turns back to Aleria. “Those were the only three women that came through the portal around the time of the Council’s decision. No other women came through for years. Also, it felt… wrong. Despite what I felt to be valid reasons… I couldn’t bear to continue.”

Aleria nods, chewing at her bottom lip. “At least you tried. Hopefully your actions will pay off, and you will have saved millions of lives.”

Chapter 33

June 22nd, 2020

“How can you be so calm about this? Millions—if not billions—of lives are on the line!” William Frieden shouts into his speaker-phone, unable to simulate calm a moment longer. “It’s been three years since we learned about this virus. Three years!”

“Two years and twenty-three months,” Rodney McDade, Director of Microbiology, says from the other side of the conference table.

William shoots Rodney a glare but goes on to correct himself. “Almost three years. And what kind of progress have we made? Do we have a vaccine? No. Do we have a treatment regimen? No. All we have is a virus with a one-hundred-percent fatality rate that is only a few years from running amok across the globe.”

He pauses to run a hand through his gray hair. He takes a sip of his coffee, wincing when he realizes that this is an old mug, and the drink has gone room temperature.

“You can’t tell me,” William says to the politician on the other end of the line, “that you’re cutting funding for the work in Antarctica. I don’t care if we’ve gone over budget. We need more funds if we’re going to have any chance of—”

“The president expects results,” inserts the senior senator from Texas, who is currently the chairman of the Senate Committee on Appropriations. “Until you show us something tangible, we need those monies allocated elsewhere.”

“We need the money to produce something tangible to show you,” William says through gritted teeth. “You can’t hold us hostage to get what you want. That’s not how this process works.”

“The new budget won’t take effect until the next fiscal year,” the senator says, adopting a conciliatory tone. “You’ll have plenty of time to prepare. I’m sure there are places where costs can be cut without sacrificing the work itself.”

William glances across his desk at Rodney, who only shakes his head. “Give us something,” William pleads. “Meet us in the middle. We’ll cut costs, but we still need more than you’ve given us.”

There’s a long pause from the other end of the line. “Write up a proposal for me,” the senator finally says. “I’ll share it with the committee and the Oval Office.”

“Thank you.” William slumps back into his chair.

“I’m not guaranteeing anything,” the senator warns. “Quite frankly, this matter isn’t our top priority at the moment.” He says goodbye and hangs up before William can get in another word.

William meets Rodney’s eyes and then stares back down at the speaker-phone in the center of his desk. “Not our top priority,” Rodney repeats, sounding mildly stunned.

“It should be,” William replies darkly. “It absolutely should be.”

Chapter 34

June 24th, 2020

Aleria stops by Erik’s office and takes a seat. She notices that he is dressed in his jeans and polo shirt but decides not to comment. She can hazard a guess as to why he is no longer wearing Sjelian clothes. It’s for the same reason that he’s been isolating himself in his office and in his living quarters, barely speaking to another soul. They never did celebrate his birthday three days ago—not that she imagines he wants to, now.

“We’ve arrived and are docked just outside the planet’s solar system,” she says. “Theran told me that the probes were just launched and should be close enough to start collecting data from the surface in less than twenty-four hours.”

Erik nods without looking up.

Aleria sits down and watches Erik for a moment. “I’m sorry, Erik. I know you want to return to Earth. I wish I could make that happen for you.”

Erik lets out a sharp breath. “Thanks.”

“Is there anything…” Aleria fades off, unsure how to offer him comfort.

“I’m having a hard time understanding… how they could make a decision...” He kneads his fingers into his eyes and shakes his head with a frustrated groan. “What gives them the right… to kill billions?”

“I agree with you,” Aleria confesses. “There is a reason the Council’s decision was not made public. The people of Sjel would never have agreed to killing billions.”

Erik lowers his hands, wiping away the growing moisture in his eyes as he does. “There has to be something we can do.”

Aleria presses her lips together and shakes her head. “If we left today, we wouldn’t arrive at the space station until March 28th, 2023. We would be too late to stop the virus.”

Erik slowly lowers his head onto the cold metal desk.

“I—I’m so sorry.” Aleria’s voice thickens with emotion. “If I had only talked to Theran sooner… but I insisted on waiting. This is partly my fault.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Erik mutters into his desk.

Aleria reaches across the metal surface to take his hand. He doesn’t look up, but he squeezes her hand tight.

* * *

Theran appraises his senior staff from the platform of the operations center. Reshal, Kralo, Akril, Mandal, Aleria, and Lina look back at him expectantly. The room has been cleared of all other crew members.

"Our probes have started relaying data from the planet’s surface.” Theran’s eyes land on each face individually. “We have confirmed that there is indeed human life on this planet.” He pauses while excited murmurs carry through the room, faces lighting up below him. “We have intercepted electronic messages. We are currently developing our translator program. We should be able to start analyzing their messages within two hours. As soon as our translator program is complete, I want Reshal, Aleria, and Lina to start analyzing the data.” He looks to Aleria, giving her a meaningful nod. “I would also like to have Erik look at the data.”

“What?” shouts Akril, taking a step forward. “He’s not Sjelian. He shouldn’t be analyzing data. He shouldn’t even be on this vessel!”

“Erik has proven his value over the past two and a half years,” Theran says calmly. “And this—providing insight into non-Sjelian human cultures—is part of why the General Council approved his participation in this mission.” He glances at Aleria again. “I want Erik involved with the analysis.”

“I want my objection noted on the record,” growls Akril, but she steps back in line between Kralo and Aleria.

Theran continues, “The form of electronic communication these people are using is primitive. It’s similar to Earth’s, so we can only assume that they are no more technically advanced than the people of Earth.” He pauses for a moment. “There is something else. Akril has been analyzing the data gathered from the planet’s atmosphere and the surface.” He looks over at Akril. “Akril, why don’t you explain what you’ve learned.”

Akril clears her throat, sticking her nose in the air. “It appears that their oceans are the primary source of oxygen for their planet. However, those oceans are being depleted of their natural resources. Based on the rate of depletion, the planet will only sustain human life for another ten years.”

“Do we know why this is happening?” asks Mandal.

Akril shakes her head. “We can’t be certain, but it appears to be occurring naturally. There are no signs of contamination.”

“Akril will continue monitoring the situation. That’s it for now,” says Theran. As the group begins to disperse, he adds, “Aleria can you stay behind? I want to discuss something with you.”

Aleria steps up onto the platform. “What is it?”

Theran waits for the room to empty before asking, “How is Erik doing?”

“Not well,” Aleria says bluntly. “He’s upset. He wants to return to Earth.”

“I understand, but we can’t turn back.”

“This is difficult for him,” Aleria says.

“Do we need to worry about him… doing something to compromise this mission?”

Aleria makes sure to look her father in the eye as she says with conviction, “No.”

Theran nods. “Good… Thanks, Aleria.”

* * *

Erik can hear Aleria’s heels clicking toward his door. Although her shoes are regulation, the same as those worn by the other female crew members, he recognizes her gait. He looks up as she pokes her head through his open door, a tablet clutched under one arm. Erik can see a download bar on the screen, filled 75% of the way.

“Our translator program is complete,” she tells him. “We are now receiving electronic messages from the probes on the surface of the planet.”

Erik tries to muster interest in the mission. “Translator program?”

“Since they don’t speak Sjelian, we need to translate their messages into our language.”

“Ah.”

“Theran wants you to help us analyze the data. He thinks your insight will be helpful.”

Erik gives a curt, “Sure.”

“I’ll send you the files.”

“Okay.”

She lingers a moment, but when he doesn’t continue the conversation, she sighs and returns to her own office.

Two minutes later, the files arrive on Erik’s computer. He spends the next few hours glued to his screen until Aleria pops back in to tell him they’ve both been summoned to a senior staff meeting in Theran’s office.

Erik and Aleria arrive to find everyone else already seated around Theran’s desk.

Akril narrows her beady eyes to slits at the sight of Erik. “What’s he doing here? It’s one thing to let him be part of this mission, but this is a senior staff meeting. He shouldn’t be allowed to attend.”

Aleria clenches her fists and snarls, “Why don’t you—"

“Aleria, please,” says Theran. Though he doesn’t raise his voice, it carries a resonance that makes everyone pay attention. Theran’s words are clipped as he turns to Akril and says, “I asked Erik to be here, because I think his input will be valuable. Your disapproval has been noted and disregarded.” Akril makes a face like she smells something putrid as Theran turns back to Aleria. “What have you learned?”

“Erik and I,” Aleria says, with a sidelong look at Akril, “have been analyzing the data, and it appears that these people are not as emotionally developed as Sjelians. There are signs that they are similar to the people of Earth. They are aware that their planet will not be habitable in ten years and are looking for a way to travel outside their solar system. One other thing: they call their planet… Phaelin.”

Theran clears his throat. “Thanks, Aleria.”

“Are they violent?” Akril asks forcefully.

“There is no way to be certain at this time,” Aleria answers, keeping her voice icily calm. “We need to continue analyzing the data.”

Theran turns to Mandal, “Can you determine how medically advanced they are?”

“They are more medically advanced then the people of Earth, but less so than Sjel.”

Theran observes the semi-circle of faces before him. “Does anyone else have anything—”

Theran’s PAD lets out a loud, siren-like wail. He taps the interface quickly as everyone else jumps and looks at each other in concern. A wide-eyed Sjelian man—a lower-level engineer—appears in miniature above Theran’s wrist. “You need to come to the control center immediately!”

Everyone stampedes into the control center adjacent to Theran’s office. They crash into one another just inside the door, as the forerunners stop dead in their tracks at the view through the wall-length window.

Chapter 35

An enormous, circular vessel looms in front of their small ship. Aleria grabs for Erik’s hand and he squeezes it tight as they gape at the view through the control center window. As Theran recovers from his initial shock and takes a few steps toward the horseshoe-shaped control desk in front of the window, one of the technicians types in a command that turns the view into an image on the control center’s massive computer screen. He then zooms the picture in for a closer look at the silvery sphere.

Kralo rushes past Theran to talk to his assistant, who is helping man the control desk. He turns to Theran and says, “Their leader wants to communicate with you.”

Erik, Aleria, Lina, Reshal, Akril, Mandal, and Theran all just gawk at the screen.

“Theran, what should we do?” says Kralo, louder this time.

Theran blinks and gives his head a small shake. “Do we have our translator program downloaded into our communicator?”

“Yes.”

“Then accept the transmission.”

With the press of a few buttons, the image of the vessel resolves into an image of a bearded man standing in front of a control panel with a small metal sphere raised on a thin pole at its center. The man looks distinctly human, but his forehead is elongated, his eyebrows are wild, fly-away caterpillars, and the hair on his forearms is thick, bushy, and unusually long—almost ape-like. His rust-colored beard is fuller than his head hair and touches his chest. He wears a fitted gray uniform with a small silver geometrical symbol, much like a Spirograph creation, stitched on the left side of his chest.

“Hello, my name is Sento. I’m the commanding officer of this vessel.” He pauses for a moment, bunching up his prominent eyebrows. “To whom am I speaking?”

Theran steps around the control panel into clearer view. “My name is Theran. I command this vessel.”

“Theran, we detected your probes. Why are you monitoring our planet?” Sento’s voice is gruff, accusatory—invoking images of lumberjacks in Erik’s brain.

“We are only here to observe,” Theran says calmly. “We identified your planet as one that could sustain human life.”

Sento looks over his shoulder as a younger man with similar features and an equal amount of body hair rushes up to whisper something in his ear. When the younger man retreats, Sento looks back at the screen. “What planet are you from?”

“We traveled here from the planet Sjel,” says Theran with a small, serene grin that is really only a slight upward curve of the corners of his mouth. His voice is smooth as melted chocolate.

Sento appears unaffected by Theran’s genial manner. Through a frown, he says, “If we were monitoring the planet Sjel, would you be concerned?”

“You have nothing to be concerned about. We are not a hostile race.”

“Neither are we.” Sento turns to look at someone off-screen, and then gives a quick nod. “My leader, Skithaell, would like to invite you to the surface of Phaelin. He would very much like to meet you.”

“We have always maintained a policy of abstention when it comes to contact with another human race.”

Sento raises an unkempt eyebrow, and his eyes travel around the Sjelian control center, landing on Erik. “It looks like you have already broken this policy of… abstention.” Erik glances down at his jeans and polo shirt. They, along with his ruddier complexion and full head of hair, have given him away as an outsider. Theran glances over his shoulder to see the subject of Sento’s hard look, and then turns back to the screen. “I need to discuss your invitation with my senior staff. I’ll let you know shortly.”

Theran gestures for Kralo to end the transmission. Kralo returns the screen to the zoomed image of the Phaelinian vessel.

Theran turns on his heel, his hands clasped behind his back as he addresses his senior staff. “Should we accept his invitation?”

“No,” says Aleria without hesitation. “I sense that he is not being completely truthful, and I think they are a violent race.”

“You can sense this?” asks Theran.

Aleria scrunches her eyes. “I can’t be positive until I’m in his physical presence, but… yes, I believe he is lying.”

Theran turns to Erik. “What do you think, Erik?”

Erik looks around the room, wondering who Theran is talking to. He can’t be asking my opinion. But Theran is staring at him, and so are the other members of the senior staff. He thinks for a moment and responds, “I agree with everything that Aleria said, but I don’t think we have a choice.”

Theran purses his lips. “What do you mean, we don’t have a choice?”

Erik asks Kralo, “How is it possible that their vessel just appeared out of nowhere? Shouldn’t we have detected their vessel before it approached?”

Kralo nods. “Yes, our sensors should have detected their vessel once it was within six hundred million miles of us, but it wasn’t detected until it was within one thousand miles.”

“They clearly have some sort of cloaking technology that is far superior to ours. We should assume that they also have the technology to destroy our vessel,” Erik says, looking at Theran. “If they’re non-violent, then it won’t matter if we visit their planet, but if they are violent, then we don’t have a choice.” He looks around at his companions before adding, “They won’t accept no for an answer.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Akril with a sniff.

Erik turns his whole body to face Akril, raising himself to his full height and glaring down his nose at her. “There are people on Earth just like Sento. They begin by asking nicely, but if you say no to them…” He lets the implied threat hang in the air and then repeats, “I don’t think we have a choice. Theran asked my opinion, and that’s it.”

Theran nods and turns to Kralo.

Erik puts his hand out. “Wait… There’s one more thing.”

“What is it?” asks Theran with a backwards glance.

“Do not agree to land this vessel on their planet. Tell him that we’ll take a shuttle to the surface, instead.”

Theran nods and turns to Kralo. “Go ahead and restore communication.”

Sento reappears on the screen. “So, what have you decided, Theran?” 

"We’ve decided to accept your offer to meet with your leader."

Sento smiles wide, revealing movie-star teeth that look out of place between the facial hair coating his upper lip and chin. "Skithaell will be pleased. You can follow our vessel down to the surface.”  

Theran shakes his head. “We can’t take our vessel directly down to the surface of your planet. We have to take our shuttle instead. Our vessel doesn't have the propulsion system necessary to generate the thrust we would need to leave once our vessel lands. The gravity on your planet is… much greater than ours.”

Sento looks over at his young assistant for a moment, and then back at the screen. “I understand. Your vessel can orbit our planet while you visit us on the surface.”

As both vessels approach the planet, the Sjelian vessel starts a geosynchronous orbit approximately twenty-three thousand miles above the planet’s surface. The crew works with tense focus, Kralo and Theran barking out orders. Erik stands in the background while everyone else buzzes around. He stares at the Phaelinian ship, hoping that the advice he gave Theran was correct—and that there’s no need for the extra precautions. But for once, his mind and his gut are in total agreement.

Chapter 36

Erik follows Theran, Kralo, and Aleria to the rear of the vessel. Despite being on board for more than two and a half years, he hasn’t had the chance to explore this area. It’s off-limits to all but necessary personnel, except in the case of a shuttle launch.

As they draw close to the shuttle station, two lines of blue lights appear inside the floor, which to Erik’s astonishment is a slate gray rather than white. The lights lead to a hallway lined with white circular doors with windows at their hearts. Theran raises his wrist and waves his PAD to grant them entry, revealing a cylindrical pod with six rows of two-by-two, white-cushioned seats.  

When everyone is inside the shuttle and buckled in place, Kralo uses an interface at the front of the shuttle to input the coordinates to the surface of the planet. The shuttle leaves the docking station, the seats thrumming with a low vibration as it disconnects from the vessel, and within a few minutes it reaches Phaelin’s atmosphere. The shuttle’s sides begin to vibrate, rattling Erik’s teeth, until it exits the atmospheric barrier and flies them into a minty sky.

Kralo’s interface displays the surface of the planet as they draw closer. Thousands of bleak, spear-pointed structures tower into the sky, marring its tranquility. Some of them spiral at the top, like cone seashells, but the spirals are comprised of sharp edges rather than soft curves. The white sun bleaches the black and gray structures, dulling the buildings further. An enormous red moon is the far most prominent celestial body. It looks close enough to reach out and touch.

The docking station sits on top of two white buildings that look out of place in a city filled with tall, black, spiral-shaped structures. Sento’s ship follows closely behind the shuttle, docking on the adjacent building. Before Kralo opens the shuttle doors, he turns in his seat to hand everyone what looks like a Bluetooth device.

Erik turns his over in his palm. It is the same pristine white as the walls he’s grown so used to, with a small, curved, cushioned arm meant to wrap around the ear. “What’s this for?”

“It will interpret their language, so we can understand what they are saying,” says Kralo.

“But how will they understand us?”

“I’ll give them these.” Kralo holds out a handful of identical ear pieces. “We will all need to speak Sjelian,” he adds, looking pointedly at Erik.

Erik nods, his stomach beginning to flip-flop at the thought of walking the surface of a possibly hostile alien planet. The door whooshes open, and Theran steps out first. Erik follows Aleria out and sees Sento standing on the landing strip, flanked by two other Phaelinians in identical gray uniforms. They have small silver devices that look like nineties cell phones clipped on their belts. Erik assumes they are guards of some sort, judging by their stance and their sleek uniforms. He eyes their strange “cell phones,” thinking they’re likely weapons.

Sento, who had looked so large and imposing on the computer screen, is actually no taller than an average Earth woman, and only slightly broader. Erik and the slender Sjelians tower over him. But Sento carries himself with the confidence and power of a man twice his size. Erik looks over Sento’s shoulder and is struck by a new wave of uneasiness when he notices the dozen guards lined up to one side of the docking station.

Kralo hands Sento the translation devices with a formal Sjelian bow, tipping forward at the hips, keeping his spine perfectly straight.

Sento nods, his mouth a firm, straight line tucked inside his beard, and puts in the earpiece as Kralo demonstrates. He begins to speak in a guttural language, but Erik’s earpiece translates his words in an unusually gruff Sjelian voice. "I’m glad you made it here safely. Please follow me to our meeting room. Skithaell is waiting for you.”

As they follow him into the large white building on the left, Erik whispers in Aleria’s ear. "Why do you think they need armed guards in the docking station?"

“Armed guards?” She clearly shares his uneasiness, but those words jolt her. Erik realizes, suddenly, that none of his companions are experienced in dealing with real violence. They’ve observed it—and passed judgment on it—but they haven’t lived it. Erik is going to need to be vigilant while they’re here.

The first thing Erik notices when they cross the building’s threshold is a red box mounted on the wall. The fat lever at its center makes it look like a fire alarm. Erik hastens his walk to catch up to Sento. “What is that red box?”

Sento stops and looks at Erik. “I don’t understand?”

Kralo reminds Erik to speak Sjelian. Erik nods and repeats the question.

“It’s a security alarm. If there are intruders, you pull the handle.” Sento turns his shoulder, his arms stiff at his sides, and continues walking. “Follow me.”

Erik tries to keep track of the turns. A right, a left, and another right. Sento leads them into what appears to be a conference room, where seven Phaelinians sit around a large, gray, round table. The man farthest from the door stands and says, “Welcome.” The men are wearing mint-green clothes, the color of the planet’s sky, and unlike Sento’s uniform, which is a tight one-piece body suit, these are comprised of loose shirts and pants. The material is a sleek fabric that Erik imagines runs through his hands like water, and the shirt sleeves stop at the elbows, revealing that thick forearm hair. The loose collars reveal a jungle of chest hair that travels up onto the neck. The bearded man addressing the party is much taller and broader than Sento, and his hair is a rich brown. Still, the Sjelians are nearly a whole head taller, and Erik’s chest possesses more girth.

Theran steps forward and says, “Thank you for your kind invitation.” The man’s enormous eyebrows come together in confusion. Sento walks up to him and hands him a translator. He shows him how to attach it, and then Theran repeats his response.

The man nods. “You’re welcome. We are so glad you agreed to meet with us. My name is Skithaell. I am our planet’s leader. These are my advisors.” He gestures to the people seated around him.

Theran bows again. "My name is Theran.” He then turns to his right, pointing out his companions in turn as he says, “This is Aleria, Kralo, and Erik. We are from the planet Sjel.”

Skithaell sits down without inviting the Sjelians to do the same, nor beckoning them to come closer. “You clearly have the technology to travel great distances. How were you able to travel from Sjel to our planet?”

Theran clears his throat and projects across the room, “We traveled through portals.”

Skithaell tilts his head. “Who created those portals?”

“Our engineers.”

Skithaell’s eyes drift horizontally across his guests, appraising Erik, Aleria, and Kralo. “Who is your lead engineer?”

“I am,” says Kralo, prompting Theran to throw him a look of comingling concern and admonishment.

Skithaell strokes his beard, eyes on Kralo. “I’m sure your probes detected that our planet is slowly dying. We rely on our oceans to generate oxygen.” He pauses and looks at his advisors, then back at Theran. “Two years ago, another race of humans came to our planet looking for a new home. They came from the planet Nekses. They were forced to abandon their planet because it was no longer habitable. They identified our planet as a potential home, and we invited them to live with us in peace. However, they soon started using their superior technology to extract the natural resources from our oceans. The result has been devastating. We estimate that our planet will be uninhabitable within ten years.”

Theran nods. “We came to the same conclusion.”

“There was nothing we could do to stop them, since they possessed superior technology.”

“Where are they now?” asks Theran.

“They discovered yet another planet capable of sustaining human life. As Phaelin was dying, there was no reason for them to stay. They left to relocate to this other planet. We were able to confiscate one of their vessels.”

Aleria whispers in Erik’s ear, “That’s not true.”

“We only know how to operate their vessel within our own solar system. We don’t have the technology to travel long distances, but if we don’t find another home, we will all die.” Skithaell looks to the man on his left, both their faces unreadable. His eyes drift slowly back to Theran. “We were hoping that you would be willing to trade technology.”

Theran narrows his eyes but keeps his voice carefully bland. “Trade technology?”

Skithaell smiles at Theran—an expression Erik finds wolfish, both due to his prominent canine teeth and the crooked tilt of the grin. “The Neksesian vessel is equipped with an electromagnetic radar–absorbent material that prevents detection. We can approach another vessel undetected within five hundred miles. We would love to share this technology with your people. In return… you could share your knowledge of portals.”  

"We would need to get approval from our General Council before we would be allowed to share our technology with another race," Theran says, politely but firmly.

Skithaell nods. "I understand. When would you be able to make this request?"

Theran looks over at Kralo, then back at Skithaell. “We would need to set up a communications channel with our home planet. That can only be done from our vessel.”

Skithaell nods again, flattening his beard with one hand. “Please make the request… And please explain to your General Council that without this technology, all on Phaelin will die.”

“I understand.” Theran bows again, but Erik thinks his smile looks strained. He turns to leave, and the others move to follow him.

Skithaell motions to the gray-uniformed guards, who block the door, standing shoulder to shoulder in a wall of muscle and hair.

Theran turns to look at Skithaell, alarm in the rise of his sparse eyebrows. “What’s this all about?”

“We need Kralo to stay here with us while you return to your vessel. He is your lead engineer. He can help us develop our own portal technology, if your General Council does not agree to exchange the technology you’ve already created.”

Theran raises himself to his full height, and his usually gentle voice is like a thunderstorm as he says, “Kralo will return with us. You can’t keep him here against his will, or against mine, as his commanding officer.”

Skithaell shakes his head and smiles that canine leer. “You misunderstand. He will be our guest… not our prisoner.”

Without pausing to think, Erik blurts, “Actually, I’m more knowledgeable about the creation of portals than Kralo is. I should stay behind instead.”

Aleria digs her nails into Erik’s arm and says through gritted teeth, “What are you doing?”

Skithaell snaps thick fingers and points to Kralo and Erik. The guards swarm, Sento in the lead, and grab them both by the arms. “You’ll both stay. Theran, you have my word that they will not be harmed in any way. As I said… they will be my guests.”

Theran jabs a finger at Skithaell, drawing in a harsh breath to fuel his shout, but Erik locks eyes with him and says in English, “Don’t argue with him. Trust me… we’ll be fine. You both need to return to the vessel before he decides to keep you and Aleria here as well.”

Erik turns to Skithaell with a close-lipped smile and says, “Kralo and I are honored to be your guests.”

Skithaell’s smile is triumphant. “Wonderful. I look forward to hearing your answer, Theran.”

With that, Theran and Aleria are escorted back to their shuttle.

* * *

Erik lies on a small mattress, barely long enough for his 6’4” frame. He stares at the smooth gray ceiling, wracking his brain for a way to escape. He looks over at Kralo in his matching, low-standing cot and finds him also lost in thought.

Feeling Erik’s eyes on him, Kralo turns and says, “Why do you think—”

“Speak in English,” Erik butts in.

“Why?”

Erik looks around their pathetic, dimly lit two-hundred-square-foot room. “They may be listening.”

Kralo’s eyes widen. “Really?” he asks, and Erik realizes the concept is completely foreign to him. Considering that the Sjelians continually monitor communications on Earth, it’s strange to think that the idea of someone else monitoring them hasn’t crossed Kralo’s mind. Then again, Kralo probably hasn’t dealt with a single non-Sjelian before today, other than Erik.

Kralo scans the room as he says in English, “If we’re guests, then why is there an armed guard outside our room?”

Erik chuckles weakly. “Are you trying to be funny?”

Kralo shakes his head.

Erik sighs at the Sjelian’s naïveté. “You didn’t think we were actually going to be their guests, did you? We’re prisoners… and they’re not going to let us go until they get what they want.”

Kralo nods his dawning understanding, but his brow stays wrinkled as he asks, “Why did you say you have knowledge of portals? You and I both know you don’t.”

Erik shrugs. “You’re my friend. I couldn’t let you stay here alone.”

Kralo smiles. “Thanks. I am glad you’re with me.” He rolls onto his back, his hands interlaced behind his head as he sighs and says, “The General Council will never agree to share our technology.”

Erik nods. “I know. We need to figure out a way back to the Sjelian vessel.”

“How? There are armed guards posted in the shuttle bay and one outside our door.”

Erik returns his gaze to the ceiling. “We’ll figure out a way.”

Chapter 37

Unsure if it’s day or night, Erik looks over to his right and sees that Kralo is sound asleep. He resumes his study of the ceiling until he hears the door start to open. His pulse quickens and he jerks upright in the bed.

A squat, heavy-set woman, barely five feet tall, walks into the room, her long, black hair pulled back from her face but swishing near her knees. Her thick brows are shifted downward to match her frown. Erik recognizes her from the meeting, sitting on Skithaell’s right, and again he marvels at the thickness of her neck.

“I need you to come with me,” she says.

Kralo is woken by the woman’s voice and sits up like a shot.

Erik’s eyes narrow. “Who are you?”

“My name is Alesta. I’m Skithaell’s niece. I’m here to take you to see Gott and Telfas.”

Kralo rubs at his eyes. “Who are they?”

“They’re Neksesian.”

Erik tilts his head. “Skithaell said that the Neksesians all left your planet.”

She shakes her head and then whips her head around to glance nervously over her shoulder. “No… they’re being held prisoners… like you. We captured them and their vessel when they landed here.”

Erik and Kralo exchange a look of trepidation, and then Erik turns back to Alesta. “So… they didn’t destroy your oceans?”

“No. I’ll tell you more later. We need to go now.” She waves her hand wildly, gesturing for them to get out of bed.

As they leave the room and turn left down the long hall, Erik trips over a guard lying on the floor, unconscious. Righting himself, he hurries after Alesta, Kralo at his heels.

Erik says in a low voice, “Why are you helping us?”

She stops them with a raised hand pressed to Erik’s chest and looks around the corner to make sure there are no guards approaching. She looks back at Erik. “Skithaell is planning to kill all of you if you don’t share your technology. I’m not going to let that happen.”

Erik looks down at the tiny, round woman with new appreciation. “What’s your plan?”

“To help you and the Neksesians board their shuttle in the docking station.”

Alesta checks the corner again, and Erik peeks over her head to see a guard approaching. They press themselves against the wall and wait until he turns heel at the end of his posted area, a few feet from their hiding place, and walks out of sight. They turn the corner and quickly make their way down the long hallway. Before they reach the end, she stops and says, “This is their room.” She pulls out a card and slides it over a thin panel connected to the door. The door opens with a click.

Two men sitting with heads bent together on a low cot turn to stare at them. They are as bald as Kralo, but their skin holds a noticeable pinkish tint. Their slender frames are covered neck to toe by gold gowns.

Kralo produces two translators from his pocket and hands them over. He looks over at Alesta and asks, “Can they speak Phaelinian?”

She nods and says, “This is Gott, the leader of the Neksesian vessel, and Telfas, the lead engineer.”

Erik gives them a small wave.

Alesta gestures at Erik and Kralo. “These are the Sjelians I was telling you about.”

Erik startles at hearing himself described as a Sjelian, but he tries not to show it. He has to stay focused. “There are twelve armed guards in the shuttle bay. How are we going to get past them?” he asks Alesta.

She hands Erik one of the silver flip-phone-looking weapons. “We’ll need to eliminate the guards.”

Erik looks at Kralo, Gott, and Telfas and shakes his head. “You think… we can take out twelve armed guards?”

“It’s the only way.”

Erik looks down at the oversized “phone,” with its white plastic top, and asks, “How do we use these things?”

She flips up the plastic piece to expose a set of three buttons—red, blue, and gray. She takes hold of Erik’s hands to show him where to hold the device so that the plastic flap faces up, the fattest end faces out, and his thumb has easy access to the buttons. “When you fire this, you need to move this top section up and press this gray button.”

“What happens when it’s fired?”

“It sends out an electronic pulse strong enough to stop a person’s heart… if fired within twenty yards.”

“What if they are more than twenty yards away?”

“It will send the person into cardiac arrest. They’ll need immediate medical attention.”

Erik points the weapon at the wall and notices the bright blue laser beam emanating from the front to help him aim. As he clicks the gray button, it fires, and he hears a strange zapping noise. A small black circle is burned into the wall, making Erik’s eyes widen. “Wow, this is amazing.”

Alesta scowls. “Don’t do that.”

Erik flushes and puts the weapon in his front right pocket, where it fits like a glove. “We need a way to get some of those guards off the docking station. Twelve is too many. What would happen if we pulled the intruder alarm?”

Now Alesta grins, exposing prominent canines. Her plump cheeks and the brightness of her green eyes make the expression far more genuine-looking than her uncle’s. “The guards on the docking station will leave to protect the perimeter of the building.”

Erik looks over at Gott and Telfas. “Even if we can safely reach our vessel, I’m worried about the Neksesian vessel.” Erik looks at Gott. “Does your vessel have a weapon capable of destroying another vessel?”

Gott, only distinguishable from Telfas by the amber color of his eyes, responds, “Yes, it has a laser array.”

“Do the Phaelinians know how to use it?”

Gott shrugs. “I don’t know. They may have learned a great deal about our technology, while we were locked up.”

Erik’s brows narrow. “If they know how to use the cloaking device,” he thinks aloud, “we have to assume they know how to access the laser array.” He looks at Alesta for confirmation, but she just shrugs. Erik looks at Gott and Telfas, still musing. “Although they don’t know how to access the portal drive, so who knows.”

Telfas pulls a gold necklace with a fat circular medallion over his head and holds it out to Erik. “Actually, they can’t access the portal drive without this.”

Gott grabs Telfas’s arm, grumbling something in Neksesian, but Telfas shakes his arm loose and steps away from Gott. He looks at Erik and says, “Only Gott and I have these keys. They must be used at the same time in order to access either the portal drive or the self-destruct.”

Erik’s brows rise. “There is a self-destruct on your vessel?”

“Yes. Its purpose is to ensure that our technology can’t be used by another race.”

“What if someone steals your medallions? Wouldn’t they have access to everything?”

Telfas shakes his head. “No.”

Gott steps in between Erik and Telfas and yells something in Neksesian that Erik guesses is in the realm of, “Stop! You’ve said too much already!”

Telfas looks steadily at Gott and says, in Phaelinian so that everyone can understand, “It’s the only way we are getting off this planet. You have to trust me.” He turns to Erik. “The medallion alone won’t access the portal drive or the self-destruct. Retinal scans are also needed.”

“From you and Gott?” Erik asks, and Telfas nods.

Gott glares at the back of Telfas’s bald, pink head. Undeterred, Telfas puts his hands over Erik’s ears and stares right into his eyes for a long moment.

Kralo keeps concerned eyes on Telfas as he asks Gott, “What is he doing to Erik? Why is he holding him like that?”

Gott only glares.

“We don’t have time for this!” Alesta hisses.

Telfas releases Erik, and Erik says, face serious, “I understand.”

“You understand what?” Kralo asks.

Erik remains focused on Telfas. “How long would it take to travel to Earth using your portal technology?”

“How many light-years away is Earth?” Telfas asks.

“Over five hundred million.”

Telfas closes his eyes, his mouth moving soundlessly as he calculates. “Less than thirty days.”

Erik staggers slightly, looking stunned. Meanwhile, Kralo wonders why Erik would ask such a question. What does the location of Earth have to do with getting off this planet?

Pulling himself together, Erik nods decisively. “I’ll trigger the intruder alarm,” he tells Alesta. “You take Kralo, Telfas, and Gott to the docking station entrance. As soon as you hear the alarm, and the guards leave the docking station, take them to the shuttle. I’ll meet you there.”

Alesta jogs down the hall, leading them to the top of a steep staircase. Alesta points into the hall below, looking behind her at Erik. “Downstairs is the closest alarm. As soon as you reach the bottom of the stairs, the alarm will be on your left. The entrance to the docking station is just around that corner.” She points to the right-hand corridor on their current floor. Erik nods and starts walking down the stairs.

* * *

Alesta peers out of the small window in the exit door and then glances back down the hall past Gott, Telfas, and Kralo. “What’s taking him so long? He should have triggered the alarm by now.”

Everyone looks to Kralo expectantly, as if perhaps he and Erik share a psychic connection. Kralo stares down the hall and shakes his head. “Maybe we should leave. What if Erik was captured?”

Just then, the sound of heavy, booted footfalls makes them all spin around. Four guards with weapons raised at chest height walk side by side, taking up the full width of the hallway. The guard at the center shouts, “Drop your weapon, Alesta!”

Kralo’s stomach sinks as Alesta slowly crouches and places her weapon on the floor. The guards surge forward, each grabbing a captive. Kralo’s hands shake as a guard searches him for weapons. The guards surround the escapees and Alesta in a tight circle and force them to move forward, bumping against one another as they are shunted by the guards’ stiffly marching legs. Kralo can’t catch his breath. The feeling of being threatened is too new. The flood of adrenaline in his veins is disorienting. On the stairs, Telfas trips, pushed forward by a guard, but Gott catches the back of his gown, steadying him. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Kralo’s eyes find the alarm, its lever still in the upright position. Erik never made it.

They enter a room further down the hall, where Skithaell is waiting for them, leaned back in a chair behind an imposing, sharp-cornered black desk. He has a feral grin on his face. But that is not what makes Kralo’s jaw drop.

Erik stands beside Skithaell, like an obedient dog.

Skithaell snaps his fingers and beckons them forward. The guards push the prisoners further into the room and block the exit.

Kralo gapes at his friend. “Erik, what’s going on?”

Erik walks over to Telfas and Gott and holds out his hand. “The medallions, please.”

“Erik,” Kralo begs. “Whatever they’ve done to you—”

“They didn’t do anything to me,” Erik says coldly, and repeats, “The medallions.”

Telfas and Gott look as though they’re trying to put a hole through Erik’s skull with their eyes, but they take their necklaces off and relinquish them. Erik holds the medallions up and says, “These medallions are the key to accessing their portal drive. You also need a retinal scan from each of them.” Erik gestures at the two men. He returns to Skithaell and lays the medallions on his desk, his stony face devoid of both pleasure and regret.

Gott glares at Telfas. “I told you he couldn’t be trusted.”

Telfas hangs his head, eyes closed.

Kralo’s neck turns red as he looks at Erik in horror and fury.

Skithaell looks at Alesta. “Erik told me all about your plan to trigger the alarm and leave the planet using the Neksesian shuttle. Is this true?”

She nods. “Erik is telling the truth.”

Skithaell smiles wide. “Then I suppose that the rest of what Erik says, about the Neksesians’ medallions and the retinal scans, is also true.”

“Yes, sir,” Alesta murmurs.

Skithaell slaps the table and smiles. “Well, Alesta…” He pauses dramatically. “It seems our plan worked.”

She strides to Skithaell’s desk and sits on its edge, smirking at Kralo and the Neksesians. Kralo bares his teeth at Alesta in a snarl, an alien anger making him feel horribly hot.

“We can finally access your portal drive,” Skithaell tells the Neksesians through a sneer. “Hopefully, we can find another planet before it’s too late.”

Erik looks down at Skithaell. “I have a plan that could benefit us both.” He puffs out his chest and glares at Kralo before saying, “I know of a planet that your people can relocate to. It’s my home planet, Earth. The Neksesian vessel can get us there in less than thirty days.”

Skithaell gives him a skeptical side-eye. “What’s your hurry?”

“The Sjelians”—Erik says the word like it’s a particularly nasty curse—“released a deadly virus on Earth. I need to return before everyone is infected. I have a vaccine.”

Skithaell claps his hands together, making his arm hair sway. “That’s perfect. If you provide the coordinates, we’ll take you there.”

Kralo clenches his fists as tears roll down his cheeks. “I thought you were my friend!”

“Friend!” shouts Erik, lunging forward like a rattler giving a warning strike. “Your people sentenced everyone on my planet to death!”

Kralo looks stunned. “We would never—”

“Ask Theran and Reshal about the General Council’s decision. They can fill you in.” Erik pauses, breathing hard.

Kralo sways on his feet, as though he might faint. “Erik—”

“This is the only way I can make it back to Earth in time,” Erik bites out. “Before billions die.”

Kralo hangs his head, swallowing hard, and says nothing more.

Alesta looks over at Skithaell and throws a flippant hand toward the three captive men. “What should we do with them?”

Skithaell scratches at his beard. “I’m not sure.”

“We need to access the portal drive,” says Erik, “and in order to do that, we need Gott’s and Telfas’s retinal scans—and of course those medallions. Once we access the portal drive, we should send Kralo and the Neksesians to the Sjelian vessel.”

Skithaell lets out a bark of a laugh and swivels in his chair toward Erik. “Why would we do that?”

Erik shoots a glare at Kralo. “As soon as their shuttle reaches the Sjelian vessel, and we know they are safely aboard, we need to destroy their vessel. I want the Sjelians to know that it was me who was responsible.”

Kralo’s head shoots up. He fixes Erik with hard, bloodshot eyes and says in a small, cold voice, “You would be killing Aleria. Is that what you want?”

Erik doesn’t respond.

“I know how you feel about her, Erik,” Kralo goes on. “I believe she feels the same. Don’t you want the chance to—”

“Stop, Kralo,” Erik orders, and turns away.

Skithaell has been tilting his head back and forth between the two men, but now he stands up suddenly. “I’ve heard enough. Let’s access the portal drive.”

* * *

Three armed guards keep their blue laser beams trained on Gott, Telfas, and Kralo as Skithaell leads the party to the Neksesian shuttle, Erik and Alesta close at his heels. Alesta yanks on the back of Telfas’s gown, forcing him into the pilot seat, and then takes the copilot position. Everyone else buckles into the rear seats. Telfas enters the coordinates to the Neksesian mother ship into the mounted sphere at the center of the control station. The shuttle lifts off the ground and accelerates up to the outer atmosphere.

Erik glances at Kralo and finds him with his head down, watching his hands wring in his lap. Erik steels himself against the Sjelian’s pain, turning to stare out the window as the vibrations of Phaelin’s atmosphere batter the ship. The minty sky is gone, replaced with a pitch-black void, as if, in an instant, day had turned to night.

A few minutes later, the shuttle slows down as it approaches the Neksesian ship’s docking station. Erik watches the large bay door slowly open to admit them, and the green lights on the front of the shuttle flash in a fast rhythm as it enters the docking station. Telfas grabs one of the protruding devices on the control panel and manually flies the shuttle to the docking arm.

As the docking arm embraces the shuttle, Erik’s chair shakes. The door opens to reveal Sento standing at full attention, hands pressed flat to the sides of his thighs. He waits for everyone to exit and then smiles at Skithaell. “The plan worked?”

Skithaell nods and pats Sento on the back. “Perfectly. You can thank your sister.”

Sento grins at Alesta, who holds her head a little higher as she returns the look.

Skithaell orders three of the guards to stay at the shuttle bay. Sento and Skithaell take the lead down the hallway toward the control center. “How do we access the portal drive?” asks Sento.

Skithaell pulls both medallions out of his pocket and Sento leans in for a better look. “These medallions are the key. We also need retinal scans from Gott and Telfas.”

Sento shakes his head as they turn the corner toward a circular door. “Amazing.”

As they walk into the room, Erik sees a man with pink skin sitting at the control panel, a Phaelinian armed guard looming over him. The guard snaps to attention in a full salute at the sight of Skithaell. Erik walks over to Skithaell. “May I?” He holds his hand out for the medallions. After a moment’s hesitation, Skithaell hands them over.

Erik stares hard at Telfas, his head slightly tilted, and then nods and walks over to a clear, flat panel, set into the enormous control desk. He waves both medallions in front of it. In an instant, the screen lights up. Beside it, a gray metal cover that had appeared to be the unbroken surface of the control panel slowly lifts, revealing a clear glass screen with red lights around the outer edge. Erik points to the screen and says, “This is where the retinal scan is performed.”

Skithaell stares at Erik. “How did you know how to access it?”

Erik smiles. “I can read Telfas’s thoughts.”

Skithaell blinks twice in rapid succession. “How is that possible?”

Erik ignores the man’s question, and waves Gott and Telfas forward. Both men stay rooted in place, and Gott shakes his head, saying, “I refuse to open my eyes.”

Skithaell takes three long, slow strides until he is inches from Gott’s face. “Then I will personally kill each and every one of your crew members.” He grabs Gott by the collar of his gown and drags him to the control panel, then snarls, “We’ll start with this one.” He grabs the arm of the Neksesian sitting at the controls. Yanking the man up, Skithaell pulls him into a choke hold and presses his electrical gun to the man’s temple, eyes never leaving Gott. “Your decision.”

Telfas rushes forward and bends down, holding his eyes open wide. A wave of red light scans him from brow to the bridge of the nose, and then the screen makes a low-pitched beeping noise.

Gott looks at the crew member, who is slowly turning from pink to purple in Skithaell’s grasp. He sighs heavily. He bends down and opens his eyes wide. As soon as the scan is complete, the entire control panel splits in two, the halves scooting outward on an invisible track. A small access panel rises from the floor on a slender silver pole, stopping at desk height.

Erik points to the access panel and says, “This is where we access the portal drive.”

Skithaell gives Erik that predatory smile. “Excellent. Let’s escort the Neksesians and Kralo back to the shuttle.” He turns to Sento and asks, “How many Neksesians are aboard?”

“Twenty-seven, including Gott and Telfas.”

“Will the shuttle hold that many people?”

Sento nods. “Yes.”

While Sento and one of the guards branch off down another corridor to retrieve the remaining Neksesians, everyone else heads for the shuttle bay. Kralo, cornered in the center of the small crowd along with Telfas, Gott, and the Neksesian pilot, looks over at Erik and shakes his head, his lip curled in a snarl. Erik avoids his furious gaze.

A door at the end of the corridor opens to reveal the inside of the shuttle docked flush with the mother ship. Footsteps from an adjoining corridor announce the arrival of the other captive Neksesians. Just as the guards and Alesta force Kralo, Gott, and Telfas into a single-file line to board the shuttle, Erik grabs Telfas’s arm. “He needs to stay with us.”

Skithaell frowns. “Why?”

“We’ll need his help to use the portal drive.”

Skithaell studies Erik with cold eyes half hidden by his unruly, dark brows. After a drawn-out, silent moment, he nods. The other Neksesians come into view around the corner, their heads down, their hands bound, and blue lasers trained on their chests. At the gruff command of Sento, they form a perfect line and begin boarding.

Kralo is the last to board. With one foot inside the shuttle, he turns back to look at Erik. “You have broken my trust.”

Erik remains close-lipped, his jaw firm. The door shuts, and a few seconds later, Erik hears the shuttle power up. Skithaell orders three guards to return to their posts, and then Skithaell leads everyone else back to the control center. Sento keeps a firm grip on Telfas’s forearm, unable to reach the much taller man’s shoulder.

As they walk, Skithaell turns to Sento. “How long until the shuttle reaches the Sjelian vessel?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Great.”

When the control center door opens to admit them, Erik walks to the access panel and inputs commands that he knows will grant him access to the laser array. Erik rubs at his temple. The invasion of Telfas’s thoughts into his head is like an uncomfortable tickle—one of those wretched internal itches for which scratching brings no relief. Telfas stands on the opposite end of the control panel, watching Erik as a Phaelinian guard holds tight to his bicep.

Skithaell asks Erik, “Is there a viewing room where I can see the Sjelian vessel? I want to see it being destroyed.”

Erik looks over at Telfas, concentrating, flinching against the tickle in his frontal lobe, and nods. He takes a few sideways steps to the right-side half of the control panel and inputs a few commands. A ten-foot-wide door slides open. Inside the room beyond is a large screen, which already depicts a close-up view of the Sjelian vessel.

“Perfect,” says Skithaell with a smile. He enters the room, along with Sento, Alesta, and all but one of the armed guards. Erik slides his gaze up into Telfas’s violet eyes for a brief moment before turning his head toward the viewing room. Skithaell and the others have their backs to the control room, gazing up at the screen. Erik grits his teeth and exhales sharply through his nose, preparing himself for what he must do. There is no other way. He squints at Telfas, internally begging the man to give him what he needs, and then enters a command.

He yells out to Skithaell, “The laser array is locked onto the Sjelian vessel. The shuttle will dock in less than two minutes. Once it does, we can fire the laser.”

* * *

At the door to the shuttle bay, Aleria leans against the wall near her father, biting at her nails. Mandal waits nearby, teary-eyed and shifting from foot to foot. Reshal is unreadable as always, but Akril looks like an electric current is coursing up her spine, standing stick-straight with fists clenched tight at her sides.

Through the window, they watch the shuttle turn sideways and ease itself toward the ship until it locks in place. The door opens and Kralo shoves past the Neksesians into the corridor. Mandal flies into his arms, wrapping herself around him like a vine snaking up a tree. Her tears wet his turtleneck. “I was so worried about you,” she murmurs into his shoulder. Kralo takes her face in his hands and kisses her deeply, then pulls away, his hands still caressing her cheeks, and looks over at Theran.

The commander is watching the pink-skinned, gold-gowned Neksesians exit the shuttle. With forehead wrinkled in confusion, he asks, “Who are they?”

Unable to contain himself a moment longer, Kralo blurts, “Erik deceived us! The Phaelinians are going to fire a laser array and destroy our vessel!”

Aleria narrows her eyes at Kralo. “What are you talking about?”

“Erik betrayed us! He’s working with Skithaell now!”

Akril jabs Aleria in the shoulder with a sharp nail. “I knew we couldn’t trust him!”

Aleria shakes her head, her face losing what little color it has. “He’s not going to betray us. He would never—”

“Erik said the Neksesian vessel was the only way he could get back to Earth in time to stop a virus.” Kralo looks over at Theran and asks, “What virus was he talking about?”

Theran seems to wilt a little. “The General Council sent two capsules to the surface of Earth. They were carrying morphons. The Council thought the only way to save Earth was to winnow the population and destroy their technology.”

“It was the only way to save Earth,” Akril says archly, but no one listens to her. The rest of the Sjelian crew is aghast.

None more than Kralo. “I thought he was lying,” he murmurs. “I hoped he was. If this is all true…” He looks over his shoulder, as if he can see the Neksesian ship through the walls. “No wonder Erik hates us.”

* * *

Erik’s hand hovers over the access panel, where a large, blinking red button is displayed on the interface. Erik raises his voice so Skithaell can hear him from the viewing room. “It’s time to fire the laser array. The shuttle just arrived.”

Skithaell looks over his shoulder at Erik and says, “Excellent.”

Erik looks at Telfas and nods once. Telfas tries to pull his arm free of the guard, but the guard yanks him into his side in a reprimand.

“I need his help,” says Erik. He holds his palms up. “Not enough hands.”

Telfas smooths his gown as the guard lets him go. He moves past Erik and slams his hand down on one of the control panel buttons. The viewing room door slides shut, the seal hissing softly. Skithaell whips around and rushes to the door, peering at Erik through the large window that takes up most of the door’s upper half. His yell—"Why did you shut this door?”—is muffled. Behind him, Alesta rushes from wall to wall, searching for another way out of the viewing room, but her hands meet nothing but solid, silvery metal.

Telfas’s guard takes out his weapon, flips up the clear cover, and aims it at the back of Telfas’s head, yelling, “Open the door!” Telfas ignores the guard’s order. His hands fly over the control desk, inputting commands at lightning speed.

Erik draws his forgotten weapon out of his front right pocket and arms it. He directs the blue light at Telfas’s forehead and yells, “Open the door, Telfas!”

Telfas doesn’t look up, and the guard takes a threatening step forward, jabbing the weapon closer to Telfas’s head. In a split-second, Erik adjusts his aim and fires into the guard’s forehead, creating a burning, blackened hole. The guard hits the floor, crumpling at the knees, and a roar from the viewing room draws Erik’s eyes to Skithaell. Skithaell pulls out his weapon and fires it at the door’s window. The glass doesn’t even shake from the impact.

Erik shoves the disarmed weapon back in his jeans. “How long before the self-destruct is set?”

Telfas glances up at Erik. “Almost done.” He moves to the little access panel and enters a few more commands. The room’s bright lights dull to a dark, flashing green that tints Telfas’s pink face a muddy brown.

Erik looks nervously at the viewing room door. Skithaell throws himself against it again and again, his shoulder creating a rhythmic boom that fills the whole control center. Erik looks back at Telfas. “Once self-destruct is enabled, how long do we have?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“We need a shuttle, but there are three guards in the shuttle bay. Is there another way off this vessel?”

Telfas moves away from the controls. “Yes, there are escape pods. Follow me.”

Erik spares the viewing room one last glance and sees that Sento and Alesta have joined Skithaell in his attempts to break down the door. Catching Erik’s eye, Skithaell pauses, seething, his teeth bared in a threat. Erik smiles at the three fuming faces peering through the wide window as he runs out of the room.

As they sprint, their footfalls harsh in the silent halls, Erik gasps, “I still don’t understand how I was able to read your thoughts.”

“You have an ability that not many have. I will explain everything later.”

By the time Telfas slows down, ten minutes later, Erik’s lungs are screaming, and his hamstrings are hot. While Telfas stops in front of a door marked with large black letters Erik cannot decipher and bends down to access the nearby panel, Erik puts his hands on his knees and draws in huge, shuddering gulps of air.

“Is there enough room for both of us?” he manages.

Telfas nods as he continues to input commands.

“How can I—arghhh!” Erik cries out in agony as a burning pain flares in his left shoulder, like a hot poker boring through his skin. He falls to his knees, clutching the blackened wound in shock.

“Look out!” shouts Telfas, diving aside as the guard at the end of the hall fires again.

Erik ducks, falling forward onto his belly, and then rolls over to pull his weapon from his pocket. He flicks up the plastic cover as he raises the weapon, and fires it without taking time to aim. His shot goes wide, burning a hole in the wall, and the guard takes cover around the corner.

The door to the escape pod slides open, and Telfas drags Erik inside. The guard fires as Erik’s legs slide over the threshold, and the shot hits the access panel, which sizzles and dies again. Telfas closes the door manually from the inside and then sits in the pilot’s seat to enter the coordinates to the Sjelian vessel.

As the pod slowly pulls away from the Neksesian vessel, Telfas can see the guard through the clear door with his weapon in his hand. The pod accelerates and heads toward the Sjelian vessel. Only five minutes until self-destruct commences, and they are not yet out of the blast radius.

Telfas enters a command to increase the speed. He looks over at Erik to find him prostrate and unconscious on the floor.

* * *

Aleria, Kralo, and Theran are glued to the wall-length screen in the control center. None of them dares voice an opinion about what to do, for no solution seems without enormous cost. They watch the Neksesian vessel helplessly in palpable silence.

At long last, Kralo looks to Theran and speaks up, his voice timid. “Do you want to fire our laser array at the Neksesian vessel, Theran?”

Aleria screams, “No!” She covers her face with her hands a moment before looking back at the screen and saying in a low voice, “Erik is aboard that vessel.”

Theran nods. “I know, but… what if Kralo is right about Erik? If he is planning to fire at us, I have to think of our crew.”

Aleria’s tears spill over her lashes. “We can’t, he would never—” Before she can finish, the screen lights up with red-hot waves of energy as the Neksesian vessel shatters into a million pieces, imploding from its center. Aleria tries to catch herself on the control panel, but her hands slide off and she hits the floor hard on her knees. She crumples in on herself, sobbing into her lap.

Kralo gapes at the screen, distress etched into the tiny lines around his eyes. “I don’t understand. I thought they were going to destroy us.”

Theran looks down at his daughter as her back bobs up and down. He slowly bends to help her up. She turns into him and throws her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. He rubs her back, his eyes on the screen.

Aleria curses at herself as she continues to cry. This is why she had made herself promise never to get close to anyone. Not to allow herself to fall in love again. It’s been eight years since Theran sat her down to tell her the devastating news that Relek’s vessel had been destroyed while traveling through a collapsed portal. Here she is again, faced with the same torment and anguish.

Because she loves Erik. She truly does. She’s just been too scared to take the leap.

And now he’s gone.

Kralo looks down at his monitor and lets out a small gasp.

“There is… something approaching our docking station.”

Aleria pulls away from her father to look at the screen. She puts a hand to her mouth and then bolts from the room, racing for the docking station. Kralo and Theran follow.

* * *

Aleria skids to a halt outside the docking station door. She presses her forehead and hands to the window and watches the pod land. She steps back from the door just as it opens. Telfas staggers out, unbalanced by the weight of Erik in his arms. Erik’s limp body is leaned against Telfas’s chest, his head lolling on his shoulder.

“We need medical help!” Telfas shouts, looking over his shoulder at Aleria as he pulls Erik all the way out of the pod.

He gently lowers Erik to the ground. Aleria bends down and puts her hand on his cheek. She looks up at Telfas with tears in her eyes and asks, “What happened to him?”

Telfas responds, “He was shot during our escape.”

Aleria closes her eyes, but the tears continue to flow.

Chapter 38

Aleria, Theran, Reshal, Kralo, and Telfas sit in the mesh chairs in the front waiting area of Mandal’s medical office. Somewhere in the back, Mandal is bent over a surgical table trying to save Erik’s life. Aleria bounces her crossed legs, her head resting on Theran’s shoulder.

Mandal’s lanky assistant walks out of the swinging door to the back hallways. Aleria sits up and grips her shirt above her breasts with one hand, twisting the fabric as she waits anxiously for good news.

“Erik’s heart stopped beating before he was brought on board,” says the assistant. “Mandal is trying to restore the blood flow to his brain cells and vital organs.”

“Are his brain cells still functioning?” asks Aleria, a quiver in her voice.

The assistant fixes Aleria with pitying eyes. “We don’t know how much function he has at this time. I’ll be back with more information when I have it.” After a small bow to Theran, she turns and walks out.

Kralo wipes away his tears with the back of his hand. He looks over at Telfas and asks, “What happened? I was certain Erik was planning to destroy our vessel.”

Telfas shakes his head. “That was never our plan.”

Kralo’s eyebrows furrow. “Your plan? You two were working together?”

The Neksesian nods. “I read Erik’s thoughts. I knew the moment I met him… and you… that you could be trusted. I opened my mind to Erik, and together we conceived of a way to stop the Phaelinians.”

Kralo jerks his head back in surprise, suddenly recalling the moment in the other ship’s control room when Erik told Skithaell he could read Telfas’s mind. Kralo had been so wrapped up in everything that was happening that the odd statement had barely registered. But now… “There are some Sjelians that have a special ability. We call it… telepathic perception. The ability to receive signals or messages from certain humans…” Kralo tilts his head, studying Telfas. “But Sjelians can’t just read anyone’s thoughts… and they can’t project their thoughts to others.”

“I can project thoughts to others,” Telfas explains, “but only people with telepathic perception can read them. Erik has telepathic perception.”

Kralo’s puzzled look deepens. “You’re mistaken. Erik is from Earth. He doesn’t have telepathic perception.”

Aleria lifts her head up from Theran’s shoulder. “Erik is half-Sjelian, and he does have telepathic perception.”

Kralo’s lips part in disbelief, and he sits in silence for a few moments trying to absorb what he has just heard. “But… Erik is from Earth.”

“He is from Earth,” says Theran, “but his biological father is Sjelian.”

Reshal sits up straight and opens his mouth to explain, but Theran shakes his head at Reshal behind Kralo’s back.

Kralo massages a temple. “How is that possible?”

“We’ll discuss everything later,” says Theran.

Still looking shell-shocked, Kralo nods. Then he turns to Telfas. “So… you knew that Erik was never intending to destroy our vessel?”

“Yes. In order for the plan to work, he had to gain the Phaelinians’ trust. The only way to do that was to convince them that he had an urgent reason to betray you and return to Earth. The deadly virus that the Sjelians sent to his planet…” Telfas pauses, giving Theran and Reshal a considering look. “Erik’s emotions on that matter were not an act. He is angry and hurt. He is afraid for the people of Earth. He does want to provide a vaccine for the deadly virus. And yet…” Telfas pauses again, lifting his hands. “Erik didn’t want to deceive you. He had no choice.”

Kralo takes a deep breath and lets it out in a rush. “He sacrificed himself… for us. Despite what our people did to his planet.”

Telfas nods, looking solemn. “Erik knew that the one true threat to your survival was the Neksesian vessel. He was worried that the Phaelinians would use the laser array. When I told him about the self-destruct, back on Phaelin, it was to help him realize that that was the only way to eliminate the threat.”

“It’s lucky we had him with us,” Kralo says to Theran. “You were right. His insight into non-Sjelians saved all of our lives.”

“He was ready to die for all of you.” Telfas looks at Aleria. “He never thought he’d get off the Neksesian vessel alive. It was only luck that facilitated our escape.”

“How were you able to get onto the escape pod before the vessel blew up?” Aleria asks. Her voice is still thick with emotion.

“It was the Phaelinians’ blood-thirst,” Telfas says. “Skithaell wanted to watch your vessel being destroyed, and the others joined him in a viewing room adjacent to the control center. We were able to lock them in the room before we set the self-destruct. There was only one guard to contend with, and… Erik killed the man, so we could escape.”

At that, the group falls silent. They wait for news without moving or speaking until, finally, Mandal walks into the waiting room. Aleria sits up, pulse pounding in her neck. “Is he—” She can’t finish the question.

Mandal’s smile lights up her face. “His heart is once again pumping blood normally.”

Aleria puts her hand over her mouth. “Are his brain cells…?”

“Yes,” Mandal says, smile growing. “His brain is still functioning.”

Aleria stands up and embraces Mandal like a long-lost friend. “Can I see him?”

“Soon.”

Epilogue

As Erik’s eyes slowly open, he sees Aleria sitting on a chair next to his bed. He smiles at her as he rubs his face, horribly groggy. She stands up and moves closer so she can sit on the edge of his bed. She leans forward and runs her hands up his chest and across his shoulders before squeezing him and laying her head on his chest. He softly strokes her hair, drinking her in.

“I thought you were on the vessel when it blew up.” A tear from her cheek plops down on his nose as she lifts her head to look down at him.

Erik nods, running a finger along her jaw. “I didn’t think I was going to make it off that vessel alive.” He cups her cheek in his hand. “I kept thinking about you the entire time. I had to make sure you were safe.”

With tears rolling down her cheeks, she leans in closer, staring deep into his eyes as hers shimmer like a mirage. She slowly lowers her head until their lips touch, feather-light. Erik slides his hand around her head and buries his fingers gently in her hair as he pulls her face closer, deepening the kiss. She sighs softly against his mouth, and he reaches out his free arm to draw her down on top of him in a tight embrace, their lips moving to the rhythm of their galloping hearts.