His ego trip blended away into the background as I stared at the screen of the holo. Everything they downloaded. Everything. I felt numb. "It's...it's all on here?"
"Oh, yes, it should be. Everything that's been processed." He was quiet. I stared at the holo on my hand. After a minute, I felt a pat on the back. "Let's go, Jacob. It's been a long day."
"What...what does it say? Are there any..." I couldn't get the words out.
"I don't know. I didn't read it. It's not for me to know." He gave me a friendly smile. "Come. Let's retire to our beds. We're both too old for a late night like this." He winked at me. I followed him back upstairs.
The holo felt like lead in my hand. I said my good nights and walked numbly down the hall to the room I was to use. The weight of the holo grew and as soon as I had the door shut, I tossed it on the bed and looked at it like it was a poisonous guk'ti about to strike.
I wanted it. I waited for it. I spent the last months longing to have some word, some sign from my life, my real life. I needed to know it was still there, that they all were still there.
I had the answers I wanted. I had them all sitting right on the bed in front of me. All I had to do was pick up the holo and read.
So why couldn't I?
I told myself I was just tired. I picked up the holo and placed it on the desk, then took off my shoes and laid on the bed. And stared at the holo.
I got up and used the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I took long minutes looking in the mirror until I couldn't think of anything else to do in there to waste time. I walked back in the room and stared at the holo.
Pick it up. Read it. Hear how Dad is doing. Look at what Mother has discovered. Maybe there will be some story of Little Blob. Half of my mind was screaming at me to do just that.
The other half was terrified.
What if there was nothing on the holo? What if the fah'ti failed? Or transmitted incorrectly and left nothing but garbled junk?
What if they simply sent nothing?
Fear clutched at my chest. That was the crux right there. What if there was just nothing at all? I ran a hand through my hair. My palms were sweating. I wiped them on the leg of my pants, and all at once had to laugh at myself. Before I could lose my nerve I picked up the holo and let it welcome me again. I tapped the first file listed and made myself look. It was a file dated the day before I left Utopia, and it was enormous. All of my fear was gone in a flash. The day before. They turned the fah'ti on the day before I left. And no one told me?
And no one told me.
Curiosity beat anger for the moment. Not later. No, every word and action of mine for the days to come would be fueled by the growing anger of what they kept from me. But in the moment, my excitement and curiosity outweighed the anger. Good or bad, I suddenly had to know.
There was data. A lot of scientific data. That was mostly all the first batch of information downloaded on that day contained. Old data, too, as I discovered after flipping through file after file. Data on Mother's pregnancy, biometric measurements and read outs. Data on the places they visited during that time. Things that had been sent back years upon years ago, floating in space, in limbo, trying to make their way home. I would be sure to tell Alistair. I knew he'd be fascinated by that information.
The second batch downloaded three and a half minutes after the first was more data, but data about me specifically. There were statistics, daily sample data about how I grew, what I ate, how I progressed physically and mentally. There were personal notes, and I flagged those to read later. That was all old, too, but I wanted to read it eventually. First things first, though. I got out of that file set and went to the next, this one also downloaded three and a half minutes later. I quickly looked at the list of time stamps. They were all three and a half minutes apart. The StarTech system was on a cycle. I skipped forward, guessing on timeline of sent data. I was getting closer. The batch I opened next contained information about Little Blob's tribe, but nothing new. It was all old stuff, first contact type info.
I skipped ahead three more batches and clicked. And there it was. New information. Information I did not know. And there were files with personal headings, not just scientific data cataloging numbers and codes. Things like, "RE: Haven't heard yet...are you getting these?" and such. I backed out and went one file set back. The very first was a letter to me.
I paused to gather my courage. And then I opened it.
Condor One communications log 477-a2:
Jake, it's Dad. I hope they will forward this to your holo, though Eunice thinks most likely they won't. She's going to send you a letter, too, even though she swore up and down she would not go back on the agreement she made with Honorable Morhal. I never made such a promise. And even if I did, I wouldn't feel the least bit guilty about breaking it.
You must have been so hurt when we threw you off the ship. You don't know how bad I felt that whole time, and since. I was silently begging you to understand. I wouldn't be surprised if you hated us. Hell, I hate me for it, too. Hopefully you didn't give Uncle Ralph too much grief when he told you. Don't take it out on him. Eunice and I put him in an impossible situation and I know, I KNOW he is doing the best he can.
But now that you know why we had to get you out of here, I can only pray that you can understand. Maybe some day when you are older and have your own children to care for, maybe then you'll be able to know the choice we faced.
This will be the last letter I can send from our ship, therefore the last time I can speak to you, kiddo. I mean, really speak to you. I miss you more than you'll ever know. The ship is a boring hunk of metal without you causing trouble and laughing and playing and keeping us all alive and sane. To be honest, I don't think I'll even miss it. I love you, kid. Always remember that.
My heart was almost stopped by the end. Just what the hell did any of that mean? I had to know. There was no more fear of knowing, only the dread of not knowing. I clicked the next. It was, as Dad guessed, from Mother.
Condor One communications log 477-a3
My Jakey. I don't know what to say. Here I am breaking a solemn oath, and I find I cannot think of the words to say to you. I am very good at science. Science demands a cold shoulder and an aloof attitude. There is never pain with science. There is never uncontrollable excitement. There is never fear and never, ever love. I am much better with science. I am terrified by everything else.
You began as an experiment. I will not apologize for that, because that's how it was. A mad idea of mine, the ultimate in human expansion. If we are to truly spread and colonize, offspring must be born in deep space. It was the goal of our entire team to attempt and see it through. To study you. To participate in the greatest discovery for the future of humanity.
And then something happened. I held you and became your mother.
I am sorry for all the times I was cold. I suddenly wish I could take back every long lecture and droll dinner discussion and just have my child back. I am scared that you will only think of me as an observer in your life, a biographer, a scientist interested in only the numbers and not the person.
It was my decision, Jakey. It was my decision to get you out of here, to make sure you were safe. It was my decision to say damn the data we could have gotten from your permanent residence on Laak'sa. I was the one that said to screw humanity. I selfishly protected my child instead of furthering science.