“Mother, have you ever considered that the Omegans could come back?” Jack paced around the library in his family home, his hands absentmindedly tracing a path across the covers of the books. He stopped and looked at the thin layer of dust on his fingertips, waiting for Victoria to respond. Finally, she sat her coffee down and scratched her left arm. As the scratching continued, it grew more fervent, finally stopping when Jack grabbed her arm and pointed silently to a small welling of blood. In her nervousness, she had broken the skin.
“I try not to,” she said, taking a deep breath. “In many ways they have never left. When I am plagued with nightmares… well, they’re of my childhood.”
“Understandable.”
“If they do come back… if they do… we must run,” she said, sadness filling her voice. “They are a race that remembers, and the Keys family has a history with them. That’s what got…” She faltered.
Jack nodded. “That’s what got Grandma killed. Right.”
She continued. “There’s a place we can go. But I hope it is never necessary for you to ever know where it is. They have to stay away. They have to. We’ve beaten them twice.”
“No, Doctor. Let’s not wake him up yet.” Jack stood and walked to the front of the bridge. He clasped his hands behind his back and stared out at the faces of his crew. It was clear that they needed him right then – they needed him to tell them what to do. If he didn’t act now and show leadership, he would lose them, that much he was certain about. He cleared his throat and spoke calmly and slowly. “My mother and the rest of my family have had a plan in place for years for what to do if the Omegans ever returned. Anyone named Keys went to ground the first sign of a ship in orbit. I need to know about the rest of you right now. Right now.”
Richard raised his right arm. “My father is in long-term care in a facility in Rhode Island. He doesn’t have much time left as it is.” He stopped for a moment, contemplating something, then voiced it. “For all I know, the shock of the Omegans arriving again could have killed him already. I… I have no one else.”
Kate shook her head. “My mom just got married and is living under a new last name. Haven’t changed it in the records yet. She should be safe. Other assorted relatives are out there, but nothing that can be held over my head.”
Gina exhaled. “My folks would have immediately into hiding. Pretty standard for scientists at this point. Extended family should be clear; none in the military.”
Jack turned to Sarah. She stared through him, saying nothing. He started to ask her directly, but her eyes narrowed and he knew that was the wrong moment. Instead he turned to Wilma. “Doctor?”
“I have a lot of old people, Jack. A lot. But they wouldn’t last long enough to get to the point where they could get the same treatment as Admiral Kelly.” Suddenly, she smiled. “Oh, and I have an ex-husband. They can kill that bastard in as many different ways that they can think of. They’d be doing the universe a favor.”
That sent the bridge into a round of laughter, bringing the tension level down to something manageable. “Okay,” Jack said, “you all need a break, and I need some time to think things out. Let’s reconvene here in five hours. Take a nap, get some food, do whatever you need to do. One hostage does not mean the end for us. Not yet, at least.”
The dinner table was beautiful. Taper candles flickered in the dimming sunlight, shadows creeping over the Matto home. Vincent Matto sat back in his chair, reading an old novel by someone named Irving. Sarah’s mother, Eliza, put the finishing touches on the meal she had spent most of the day preparing. It was, Sarah thought, one of those days that reminded you that life was beautiful. Even in a society regimented by technology, you could find a way to celebrate the past and honor it, and you could do so in ways that helped families bond and strengthen their love for each other. “I am very, very lucky,” she thought.
Eliza portioned out food to her husband and daughter. That Sunday, it was filet mignon, with fresh-grown asparagus and cauliflower, and homemade wheat bread. Vincent couldn’t stop smiling. “Honey, you have really outdone yourself. This is incredible!” Eliza blushed and gave him a slight grin, and took another bite of her own food. Her husband was a man prone to flattery; it had certainly helped during their courtship. But this time around, she also knew he was right. This was the best food she had ever prepared in their efforts to occasionally embrace traditional cooking.
Ever humble herself, though, she deflected the attention away from her. “Sarah, I am so glad you came home this weekend. How are things going?”
Sarah gave her parents an update on the mission planning for the War Angel. Vincent seemed pleased, but Eliza was more reserved in her response. “Space travel out to Pluto? Ugh, sweetie. That does not sound promising.”
“It’ll be okay, Mom. Two weeks and I’ll be back.”
Vincent leaned back in his chair. “I did a little space travel back in the Second Period. Upset my stomach. But when I got back, I appreciated this place a bit more. Might be that way for you, too.”
Sarah smiled. “I hope so. At least there are no Omegans for my trip.” She stopped and thought about that for a moment. “Or for my entire lifetime, I hope.”
Her mother and father both shuddered. “Not again,” Eliza muttered. “Never again.” Sarah looked at Vincent, an eyebrow raised. He stood from the table and walked over to the liquor cabinet. Opening the doors, he reached to the back and pulled out a green bottle and showed it to Sarah. “Hundred year-old whiskey. Worth a fortune. Tastes like liquid heaven.”
She perked up. “What are you waiting for, Dad? Pour the shots!”
Vincent shook his head and put the bottle back. “Your mother and I made a pact a long time ago. This bottle only gets opened for two reasons: if one of us dies, or if the Omegans come back.” Sarah looked at her mother and father, confused. He walked back to the table and sat back down.
Eliza turned to her daughter and took Sarah’s hand in her own. “I will not go through another occupation, sweetie. A shot of cyanide mixed in a glass of whisky…” Sarah pulled away, stunned by her mother’s calmness in explaining their pact. Eliza continued, “But it’s nothing to worry about sweetie. Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”
Sarah bit into her steak, suddenly feeling as though it had lost its flavor.
Alone in her quarters, Sarah Matto dropped her façade and broke down, her tears overwhelming her breathing. She crawled into bed and curled into a ball, holding her knees to her chest. In a now uncertain universe, there was suddenly something she could be sure about: she was now an orphan.
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