“A velveteen rabbit.”
“Truly? I’ve never seen a rabbit so blue.” The sincerity in Gaius’s voice only sharpened her guilt. This was no time to go planting stories of cerulean wildlife into ancient Roman mythos. Though a velvet blue rabbit paled against everything else her father had seen today. Eliot wondered what he made of all this….
Gaius passed her the box. Eliot opened it, lifting Priya’s letter to see the chip beneath, items as fragile as they were forever. Paper covered with permanent ink. See-through circuits filled with everything Eliot was, everything the crew members of the Invictus wanted to be. Was it enough, to place these in Empra’s hands? With so much on the chip, would future Far bother watching a file called “You Rat You Burn”? Certainly, the name was in their humor set, but the label needed to be more than just funny. It needed to be life—drink of water, breath of air, undeniable.
But what? “Watch Me Now” or “Yield to New Life Course”?
Both were throat-snatchy. Neither felt right.
Her father pulled himself out of the earth, staring at the collection of pale tombs around them. He walked like a man unused to freedom—hesitant at first, then overswift—toward the nearest stone, and placed his palm over its chiseled letters: TU FUI, EGO ERIS.
“Not a dream,” he declared once he found the world solid enough to push back. “Where is Empra?”
The final cry of a contraction answered him. Gaius’s face went sharp at the scream, and when he took off running, Eliot did not stop him. It was good that he hurry….
“Vera?”
YES, ELIOT?
“Program the memory chip’s hologram function to respond exclusively to Farway Gaius McCarthy’s voice. Also, I’d like to relabel ‘You Rat You Burn.’”
VOICE RECOGNITION HAS BEEN REASSIGNED. WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO RELABEL THE FILE?
Eliot stared at the words her father had touched. The poetry of them tugged, their undertow meaning stretching through her. Not déjà vu but a similar feeling: cat paws splayed in sunlight, fireflies clinging to dusk’s edge, a wave’s foam getting caught between your toes, bursting one bubble at a time. Life. As it was, as it would be.
Her skin prickled when she read the phrase again, aloud.
Once the naming was done, Eliot sealed her pocket universe and went to join the others. She found Gram standing behind one of the nearby tombs, trying his best to ignore the fact that Far’s parents were kissing. Kissing being the G-rated term. Their level of PDA was impressive, turning Eliot into the embarrassed teenage daughter she was.
“Good job convincing Empra to leave with you.” Gram nearly leaped from his skin when she sidled next to him. “Sorry! Not much I can do in the way of sloshing here.”
“Suppose not.” The Engineer looked around the tombs, laced with grass that had seen better seasons. The Ab Aeterno’s field was a few corners away, out of sight, within sprinting distance. “I return the felicitations. Heard some trouble through the comm.”
“Nothing Priya and Imogen couldn’t manage.” Speaking of… “I can take this from here. You should get back to the Invictus. Far’s fight is almost over, and you’ll be needed.”
“Five minutes.” Gram paused one step in, half torn. “That’s all you’ve got. Any longer and Far might make his debut on the Ab Aeterno again. We shouldn’t risk the window with this pivot point.”
“I won’t,” she assured him. “I’ve come this far. Go back to Imogen.”
With a nod, Gram left. Eliot pressed the velvet box to her heart and waited while Empra and Gaius exchanged hungry gazes, quiet Latin. Her fingers wove through his curls and his hands stroked her face, thumbs wiping tears that sounded different from the ones on the datastream—sad, yes, but not broken. There was room for a laugh when Empra caught sight of Gaius’s garments.
“Is he wearing bedsheets?” The question, meant for Gram, stalled when Empra found Eliot in his place. “Who are you?”
The velvet box was stronger than it looked, for how Eliot gripped the corners. It was her own flesh that dented, her own thoughts that winced: I’m your daughter from another life. “No one important. I have to take you back to the Ab Aeterno soon, so say your piece.”
“‘From eternity.’” Gaius caught on to the ship’s Latin name. “That’s where you must return, yes?”
“Yes. I—I don’t want to leave you, Gaius.”
“You were never meant to stay, Empra of the Elsewhere Skies. That our lives intersected and created something new—” Gaius looked to her swollen belly. “That has blessed me more than I can say.”
Fresh tears spread daylight across Empra’s face. Were they for birth or good-bye, Eliot wondered. Agony made itself known in each, and both were drawing near.
“Tempus venit.” Eliot spoke Latin as she stepped away from the grave, so both her parents could understand. Imogen, too. There was background mumbling as the words were passed along to Priya, and to Far through her.
It’s time.
Empra nodded, her arms twined around Gaius. She leaned forward, kissed him, whispered something only he could hear, listened as he whispered something back. She kissed him again. She let go.
“The world you return to…” Eliot switched to Central’s tongue. “It won’t be the same as the one you left, but you shouldn’t fear. It means the universe didn’t end.”
“End?” Empra flinched. “I hashed things up that much?”
“You won’t, if you jump back to Central as soon as possible.” Eliot pressed the box into her mother’s hands. “This is for your son. Give it to him on his seventeenth birthday—no sooner, no later. His future depends on it.”
Empra didn’t seem to know what to make of the gift or its giver. “My son, you know him?”
“I did.” The tense slipped out, caught both women in the gut. Eliot didn’t try to recover. “Let’s get you back to your ship. The longer you stay, the more you risk.”
At this, her mother accepted the box and walked to the end of the tombs, into the field beyond. Its emptiness shimmered with morning. Strings of dew caught the edge of Empra’s stola as she crossed the grass, turning indigo into darkest night.
Gaius didn’t fight when Eliot grabbed his arm to keep him from following. “Where is she going?”
“You’ll see.”
The center of the field—that was where the Ab Aeterno hid in the open, holo-shield heavens matching the true thing. If Eliot hadn’t watched the datastream, she might’ve jumped when the hatch opened, time machine’s inner workings punching out sky. Burg emerged, beside himself, scooping Empra off her feet with windmill arms and rushing her back to the ship. There was a second of panic—white lab coat, blinking console lights—and then the door shut.
The field was just a field again.