46 Five More Minutes #2
An answer . . . like a mental handshake, someone latches onto the other end of my questing tether.
It’s like someone adjusted an antenna, tuned the radio dial to the right frequency.
The voices in my head are now as clear as Astra’s.
A wispy little something, amorphous, cloudlike, creeps over Astra’s shoulder.
More appear, peeking over and around the Chupacabras.
Hello, Earthling. Hello, one who is and isn’t like us.
Oh, hello, I’ve heard you before.
We’ve always known you, but you never understood you weren’t alone. We struggled to reach you, so far away and human, still so different from us.
I’m here now; it is nice to meet you.
The brush against my consciousness comes flooding in from all directions. Overwhelming yet startlingly innocent and young, heartbreakingly so, they were patient while I spoke to Astra, and now they cluster around me like a crowd of preschoolers vying for my attention.
Hard, speaking to them. Easier with you.
One little voice is coming into focus, ringing clearer with every sound.
A bright spark of individuality struggles to make itself known over the chorus.
I can feel the effort communicating takes her, how they love her even though they don’t understand her.
She, like Eldi, like me, is different from the rest, who draw back and let her speak for them.
I can sense their excitement, their pride, that she’s figured this out after so long.
Acting on pure impulse, I reach out a hand, stepping close to Astra, who watches me impassively and allows the mist-like being to reach across the gap. Warm like a ray of sunshine, she winds up my arm with a surprising heaviness.
You and me, the same. Hear, listen.
I hear you now; I’m listening. I’m sorry I didn’t understand before, I answer her.
“We struggle to communicate with them,” Astra says.
They can’t hear them, I realize, only I can.
“Only a few of our oldest Helpers could speak with them, and most of that knowledge is now lost. We weren’t able to save many.
Only a few of the youngest could be spared, if we were to save us all.
Their race’s sacrifice has always been known, remembered, and honored.
Had we realized what had happened with Adele, if we could have done something—” Astra looks pained and cuts off.
“They are growing. When these few are older, we will raise more, and they will raise each other. We have saved their genetic code. They have saved their history. We care for them alongside our own young.”
“And the Beasts?” Orion asks. “They’re all gone? None survived?”
“Nothing is ever certain,” Astra says impassively.
Orion’s sole reaction is a stoic nod, his eyebrows drawing together by a fraction. I respect Astra for giving Orion the truth rather than the false comfort that would be so easy to dole out.
“We know Beasts followed evacuees for some distance from the planet,” Astra goes on, “but we have seen no sign of their continued pursuit; it is likely that they were wiped from existence. However, it is wise to remain vigilant. Small odds often mean little to a universe as vast as ours.”
“What happens now?” I ask.
“We find our children; we build them a new home. Our ship sails for a hopeful planet some distance away. With space for us. We will not be like the Beasts. We will not destroy your planet, leaving death and harm in our wake.”
They’ve stopped here only for their young. They’ve come to take them back and move on. I knew it. But the reality stings. I’m still holding Eldi. I don’t want to let her go.
“Well, we will waste no more time, then. We will send a small ship with a retrieval team with your escort back to Earth.” With that, they turn, speaking orders and sparking a flurry of movement.
This is it, then. Eldi belongs here. With her species. Her family. I feel Calvin squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. My steady rock, ever present, holding me up before I realize I’m falling.
“Okay, okay. Eldi. It’s time for us to go.” I struggle to maintain my composure, but the tears fall faster. I’m suddenly unreasonably jealous of Luca, getting a few more hours with Orion.
“No.” Eldi frowns at me. She leaps from my arms.
“Wait, Eldi, I just want to say goodbye,” I plead.
But she’s already tugging at Astra’s hand. Underfoot, trying to get their attention.
The two speak. It takes a lot for Eldi. I can’t understand the words, but I can understand the halting nature of Eldi’s speech, the way the elder being listens attentively, taking time to decipher Eldi’s meaning.
Orion steps in, going back and forth between the two.
The others slow at their tasks. It seems they all listen in. Finally, Astra turns back to me.
“She asks for . . .” They cock their head at Orion as if seeking clarification, and he nods encouragingly. “Five more minutes.”
My heart sinks. It’s hardly anything, but I’ll take any more time with Eldi that I get. She bounds over. Human toddler form again, and I wrap my arms around her. Try to commit the scent of her hair to memory. Try not to spend the last few minutes with her as a sobbing mess.
“Do you not desire more minutes with Eldi?” Astra sounds baffled.
But Orion laughs, a light sound. I look up. He seems relaxed. And now I’m confused.
“Time is different for us. It’s why we’ve been young for many of your human Earth years. It’s just a bad translation,” Orion clarifies. “Reggie. You’ll live the rest of your life in the kind of ‘five minutes’ that Eldi is asking for.”
I’m speechless, and Orion continues. He’ll stay here too.
There are children to track down, after all.
I hear it all through a fog of relief. The Mothership and its crew will leave in search of an uninhabited but livable planet.
There are a few options close by. Relatively.
Close enough to return when more of their young are recovered.
Close enough to coordinate with Orion. One of the temporary transport ships will stay in orbit for the small team who will stay to gather up the children as they are found.
The nearby areas of space will need to be scoured by scout teams for any of the escape pods that may still float in space, never having made it to Earth.
It’s a lonely universe, and the Chupacabras and their Helpers have learned it’s more bearable with company.
But they will settle as near as they can.
We have new neighbors. They have a society to rebuild.
They have a recovered cargo of embryos to raise.
Orion jettisoned the embryo pods and genetic banks full of potential life, thinking the chances for their survival and retrieval were slim.
They were, but those odds were ruthlessly beaten down—all were recovered intact.
Orion falls to his knees at this news, one heavy burden of guilt lifted.
It will be a long road for humanity, learning to coexist with this alien species ripe with the future, but the children will lead the way.
“Really? You’re staying?” I ask Eldi.
She rolls her eyes, gives me a disdainful look. Points to the Winnebago, draws back from our hug enough to jab me in the chest with her finger. “Home.”
“The others—” I say, then look to Orion for help.
“Orion has already informed us that many of our unaccounted-for young may want to stay,” Astra says. “This is the only peaceful home many of them know. Some, like Eldi, have found families, found a place here. We don’t want to take that from them, from you.”
It’s a lonely universe but a little less so now.