'Star Child' - A Short Story

A long time ahead, on a planet not too far away.

Hi there

The short story below was prompted by Brian Reindel 👾⚔️’s latest Lunar Awards Prompt Quest:

“Write a science fiction short story about leaving the hostilities of Earth behind to explore what scientists are saying is an inhabitable planet just beyond the reaches of our solar system. Is this a second Eden — a chance for a new beginning? A short cryosleep later finds you waking up to exciting possibilities… until you discover something is not quite right with ‘Earth 2’. Do you survive and thrive or is the outcome disastrous?”

Optional Level Up!

“Nothing screams adventure like a dim-witted sidekick. Are you the hero or that sidekick? Either way, this trip was made for a duo!”

I hope you enjoy it!

---

Star Child

I took every opportunity to gaze through the dormitory porthole after my waking. Each fakeday the planet grew bigger as Voyager III drew closer. I could make out MEGA’s individual continents now, lumps of green and brown set in oceanic blue, coated in candy-floss clouds. The perfect planet for the First Foundlings. Perfect for me and my fam; for the plants and pets we’d brought. Just perfect in every way.

Before I could snap another selfie, the door hissed open at the dorm’s far end. “Gem, you sex goddess, there you are!” shouted a familiar voice. Perfect except for Appillo, my breedmate – or ‘your family pet’, as my BFF Andromeda liked to call him – especially after lights out.

The adults had voted to send us children first, of course. We’d been told for a decade or more we were the most precious gift of all. Packing our bags with the haste of a population already half-submerged, our pot-parents had waved goodbye to us, their last decanted offspring, with a brave show of glee on their faces. It was obvious their hearts brimmed with hope for Voyager’s vital life-saving mission. I still remembered the banners strung out along the road to the spaceport: “Don’t you dare come back!” “Make Earth Great Again!” “Put the kettle on for Momma!” Even thinking about it now brought a lump to my throat, especially in low-g.

The landing pod gave a chirpy beep as its feet touched MEGA’s life-giving earth. We unstrapped and stood up, readying ourselves for our big moment. It was so good to be in real gravity again, instead of circling Voyager’s core within an infinite hamster wheel. Humans weren’t meant to be hamsters, even those called Appillo.

It was also humanity’s biggest moment. The three of us had been rehearsing for days. As the First Emissaries of Earth, our sure-fire vid ‘Greeting a New Era for Humankind’ was a certified banger. I’d been such an uber-simp when Andromeda had also been picked as an Emissary during basic training. We’d been well tight ever since and I knew she was going to slay this. It had been so long since we’d had any proper audience.

I drew a deep breath, ready to descend the steps onto MEGA’s perfect surface with my perfect bestie. Andromeda took my hand and returned my smile. The outside was going to smell so good.

A knocking sound came from the outer airlock door. We all looked at each other. This wasn’t in the Emissary manual.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Something being polite?” suggested Appillo. Such a tool.

“More like hungry,” said Andromeda.

There was a second knock. Louder this time.

“Well, open it, Appillo!” I shouted. After all, an audience was an audience.

He fiddled with the inner door controls and then pulled the outer lever, which had more warning stickers than our dorm toilet. With a hiss of equalisation, a crack appeared to the outside. Then a hand. With five fingers. Andromeda let go of mine with a small cry. Yeah, babe. Shocker for me too. But then I registered. Of course, the stars of the biggest show on or off-world needed security. A Voyager AI must have sent down an advance pod. My fellow Emissaries and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Another hand helped the first pull the door wide open. An old man stood on the extended ramp. Thirty at least. He was holding his nose. Odd. Next to him stood another man with a bunch of laundry clutched to his face. No women anywhere. Jeeez. What kind of cheap was this? I needed to lay the dirt with these slackers.

“We’re Emissaries for the First Foundlings. This is not how you rig our hot spot for a billion home feeds.”

Old guy let go of his nose: “Please get dressed before disembarking,” he gasped. His couchmate threw a laundry garment towards each of us. Andromeda caught hers super-deft. Appillo, still holding the vidcam, scrabbled for his. I let mine tumble to the floor at my feet. My eyebrows almost displaced off my face as I rested a hand on a canted hip and wagged a finger. Onesies, FFS. How could one-size-fits-all possibly enclose my fabulous curves? These apes were deffo not security.

“W… T… Actual F. Clothes? Are you kidding?” We’d travelled like a billion miles – and with only three AIs to help us. Being treated like actual furball pets wasn’t in my contract. I zapped a glance at Andromeda. She was giving them major side-eye, hips fit to bust. But these sec-men only looked everywhere but. Pussies. “Stay cryo, Andro,” I whispered. “This ape show will end ASAP and we’ll get to greet the real queen bees.”

“Yes, clothes,” sarc-face replied. “We’re not animals.” Appillo looked confused and I tried not to be. As we pulled on the gross cover-ups, I tried to damp their unbelievable patriarchy snark. Look on the sunside, I told myself. At least they spoke the right language. Funny accent, though. Maybe Alaska, or even Canada.

I did up the last of Appillo’s buttons and nodded to Andromeda. Okay we were – I could barely say it – dressed. Emissary Two and Three thumb me the hot and ready. At last: show-time.

I gathered my wits and pursed my lips, ready to act as the queen I needed to be for this momentous occasion. Descending hand-in-hand with my BFF, Appillo was raking in the vid-take. He better have capped our best sides or it will be severe edits later.

There was no applause at the end of the take, just a shit-storm of silence. I held my final pose, even after the vidcam light winked out, and stayed professional. One of the greeter dudes uncrossed his arms and asked, “You finished?”

Seriously. Not even allowed to peel off their unseemlies. Instead, they escorted us to a wheeled wagon and strapped us in. It was a wild ride. Appillo was sick. Twice, tsk. They gave him another onesie once we stopped outside a small concrete building. Andromeda cracked a joke about twosies. My daarl was only trying to lighten the load. Two more men appeared. Still nothing I’d call breedmate material. So much hair. Andromeda reckoned everywhere. Double yuk. Then one punched a pad and the block’s double doors opened up with a loud whine of hydraulics. Inside, a dark tunnel descended deep into MEGA. As we climbed back into the wagon, Appillo moaned about the lighting being hell for close-ups. But at least the road was smooth.

We were marched down a corridor to a ‘Debriefing Room’ which more resembled Voyager’s unused brig. Inside, a bunch of people sat around some desks and others stood against walls. I guess some were women, some men, but they were all clothed. I tried not to stare, even though they were staring at us way too hard for any meetz-‘n’-greetz party. Then one smiled. A man – at Appillo. I swapped signify looks with Andromeda. S’right, grrl – why did we even bother?

It’s a woman on the first desk we get pushed to. Dull and dutiful for sure – no tats or implants – maybe proof life could exist down here.

“Name?” Mz Dull demanded, pen and paper at the ready.

“Gemina. Rhymes with ‘femina’ – not ‘regina’.”

A snigger came from a corner. Weird. Why are interns in here for us big-wigs?

“Last name?”

“Platumkie. Rhymes with—

“I get it. Any siblings? Brothers, sisters - a twin, maybe?”

“Nope, just me and my fellow Emissaries. Especially this hot trickster: Andromeda’s my BF—“

Mz D ‘n’ D pointed us to the next desk. Sat behind it was a guy with big glasses and small hands, surrounded by piled up paper. This had to be for show. I gave Andro an eye-roll and yawned. She tried not to laugh.

“Why are you late?” said this tiny Tim.

“What?”

“Why have you returned so late? We expected you more than a 3P century ago.”

“’3P’?”

“Good grief, child. The Third Planet. You know, the one you just came from?”

The ‘child’ thing hurt, but I soldiered on. Back on Earth, some people hadn’t liked kids so much. Especially clever ones, like Saint Greta or Mother Kamala. Or Andromeda. Maybe it was the same here on MEGA. Just act the spacehead, Gemina girl: “Oh, oh. I see. Well, we got here as soon as we could, I promise. If you’d provided an address, I’m sure our parents would have messaged to say we were on our way.” I’m acting so nice and polite. My fans back on Earth deserved nothing less.

Tim-thee replied: “And if you’d set up a PO box, like we agreed, we’d have sent you a reminder aeons ago. Several of them.”

“A 3P PO? I promise you, I’ve never, ever heard about that.” Andromeda and Appillo also shook their heads. It was always good to have a bestie backup for these big drama situations.

Timmy shook his head and muttered about iron and sad chasms. A bunch more stupid questions and paper scribbling, then we got shoved along to Third Desk. I couldn’t even. The guy had a beard, FFS. But at least he told us his name: ‘Nebeula’. Andromeda’s expression changed to something unrecognisable when he said it. But it reminded me of my Mom’s face after being de-seminalised at the VF clinic. Poor Mom - she hated quotas.

“Okay, let’s get down to business,” said Nebeula. “Have you completed your assigned mission?”

“Well, I guess so,” I said, still trying to keep things light. “I mean, we’re here, aren’t we? Just need to unpack our bags and call back home to say we made it OK. Our folks are going to be so relieved when they—”

“You think travelling here is your mission?”

“Derr. Where else? Have you seen the other places Voyager passed? Dead – gas – gas – ice – ice. It was like a summer road trip with the grand-pees.”

“We’re familiar,” said Nebeula. I looked around. Yep, they all seemed pretty darn old compared to us spring chickens. He continued: “Which world do you think you’re saving, exactly?” He stared at each of us in turn. Like when Mom did whenever l didn’t finish my plate. Or that time I tried to hook a breedmate a year early. I cast a desperate look at my best Bestie, eyelashes waving. She knew the Emissary Manual better than anyone.

“Er, P3?” Andromeda suggested, breaking the so awkward silence. Such a star pupil. She’d already hooked onto their local lingo.

“P3 was supposed to be saving us,” said Nebeula. “That’s why you were sent there. For it to be our final salvation.”

Unlike Tim-tim’s desk, he hadn’t mentioned chasms. It was a clue. “Our planet is your Foundling planet?” I asked.

“Well, we’d very much hoped so, after the other—”

I don’t get it,” said Appillo. For once, I agreed with the vid-pet. And for real. Not like when he pestered me for a rubbing.

Nebeula’s second deliberate silence was a real killer, lasting longer than Appillo attempting orbital math. It triggered my fellow Emissary into rubbing his knees together under the desk. He only did that for two things, and this wasn’t for his favourite distraction. Sure enough, his hand went up like a test rocket. I undid a button to distract the distraction. He was so embarrassing sometimes.

“Yes?” said Nebeula. His eyebrow was a competitor for mine. Plus one point.

“May I be excused?” squeaked Appillo.

“No, you may not,” replied Nebeula. “The three of you aren’t going anywhere until you tell us what’s going on.”

I hated the smell of unsucked Emissary waste, so I panicked: “Look, Nebeula. Earth – P3 – is dying and we’ve been sent here to prevent all the people dying, and hopefully stay rich, and keep making cool stuff to buy, and—”

“Even if we’re the ones who fucked it all up,” added Andromeda. Sometimes you needed to tell a hard truth to stay grounded. Except for when you’re grounded for telling the truth. Which was how this was starting to feel…

“Did you say P3 is dying?”

“Well, it’s probably dead by now,” butted in Appillo. “Or at least very, very wet.” Triggered or what. He’s overstepping on our Emissary gig - or perhaps his bladder. Me and my mate Andro were supposed to be bossing this show.

“Not helpful, Apo,” I said, trying to be real nice, because this was all a huge FU, even if accidents can happen. But I needed to focus, as what Nebeula said didn’t make any sense. I’d give anything to block or even just mute these eternal losers and their shitty Q&A torture. The Voyager was a much safer space place than all this BS disagreement. MEGA was just the worst kind of primitive planet.

“Look, do you even understand who we are?” said Nebeula. He was leaning over the desk, getting too emotional. And I was getting bored. We’d been indulging these MEGA apes for at least fifteen.

“New friends?” I replied.

“And do you have any idea who you really are?”

“Sexy space invaders?” Appillo’s vid light had restarted blinking, despite his foot-hopping act. My public was out there. Somewhere. I cocked an eyebrow and undid another button. Auto-stabilisation would remain my first and forever friend.

Nebeula sighed. “Okay…. I think it’s time you met some old relatives.”

An intern dweeb opened a door into a long corridor and called out in some language I’d never heard before. Maybe British or African. Appillo looked hopeful for his deserved break, but there was no restroom sign. Which wasn’t a good sign.

Something was moving down the corridor under its own power, like a giant soda can strapped to a luggage trolley. It had weird markings all over it, but I couldn’t see any brand name. Maybe they just listed ingredients here, like the rice our old neighbours liked.

Everybody stood to attention when the soda can entered the room - except Appillo. Such an idiot. I’d even told him to go before we left the Voyager.

“May I introduce Venusian Elder Haffseti the Third, Senior Pupation and Junior Vice-President of her esteemed former planet, P2,” intones Nebeula.

“Wow. I didn’t know there were Americans still living in Venice,” said Andromeda. I waved my hand to hush her. She got so excited whenever there was new stuff to learn – but not as much as Appillo. I can’t even with the ‘very, very, wet’. He only managed to grunt his greeting. Gaia no, not now. I gave him my special look. The one reserved for unscheduled emissions.

“P2 is the second planet in this system. I doubt there is anyone living there, even your ‘Americans’.”

“Second? You mean Venus?”

“Rhymes with—”

“No, Appillo,” I snap. So obsessed, despite all the therapy after our Uranus flypast.

“If that is your name for it, then yes,” Nebeula said.

A noise I last heard on Earth punctured any remaining respect we might have held and my cheeks flushed with excruciating embarrassment. How much had that boy drunk? Such a loser. It was better than being in low-g, but I so wished they’d carpeted in here. ‘Stay hydrated’ didn’t mean impersonate a garden sprinkler.

There was a small window plate cut into the Venusian’s can. Through it I could see green gas swirling, then something dark and shiny pressed itself up the inside, like a neck encased in lead. A yellow eye suddenly appeared within it. And winked. Andromeda gasped. I let out a high-pitched scream. Appillo groaned a second time. Oh, no – not twosies.

After Appillo had been changed and the Venusian had told us through her tin-can’s vocospeaker where its great-times-sixty-thousand mother had come from and returned to, they wheeled out its great-times-fifty-thousand father.

The Martian’s fridge was even bigger than the Venusian’s oven. Through more swirling, but much colder, gas, he told us how a wandering planet from another galaxy was their original home. How the surviving P2’s had returned, defeated and distraught. How the Originals who had remained behind hadn’t given up hope, and so they tried again, taking many more millennia to plan and build and evolve, to realise their dream of a permanent home on P4. But then followed another litany of environmental fuck-ups, except this time the atmosphere had boiled off into space instead of capturing enough heat to melt lead.

Then it was my turn. And so P3’s chosen Emissary got to tell a million-year-old tale of selfish humanity and Earthly woe. I felt worse than if Goldilocks had killed Momma Bear for her bowl of luke-warm porridge. But I made sure my story would echo through the rest of time, no matter how many buttons I had done up. At least, until Appillo confessed he’d forgotten to bring his spare vidcam battery. I swear, I’ll never rub that idiot again.

Our elderly relatives both cried at the end. At least, I think that’s what those noises were. Worse was when Nebeula shed a tear or two. I’d felt a soft spot growing inside me for him. When I hugged him, he was warm. Very warm. Only Appillo removing his thumb from his mouth to bawl his eyes out stemmed my imagination. Timmy gave him a tissue from his desk draw to blow his nose. That’s when I realised everyone was in this together. P3 – Earth – was our third and last possible attempt at colonising the solar system. We’d failed, and it meant MEGA floating back into the vast, icy wastes of interstellar space with us, its tragic castaways still on board. Every one of us knew what that meant.

Almost everyone.

Andromeda had glided to the centre of the room. With a shy smile, she unzipped the back of her onesie. I hadn’t realised before how flexible her arms were. But it explained a lot of what I’d felt when only stars were visible in our dorm and inside my head. She was so very gorgeous.

Then she undid her skinsie and I vomited along with the rest of the Originals. Poor Timmy immediately ran out of tissues and had to shout at the interns for a lot more.

Andromeda’s real skin was a transparent membrane and within her – or them, spread through amongst it all – was an entire galaxy of tiny, perfectly formed stars; blues and reds and yellows and oranges flickering within and throughout her dusty form. For that’s what she was: a galaxy, an entrancing, beautiful galaxy. As her stars orbited wider within her, alien organs and structures dissolved and dispersed into layers and voids which filled the room to embrace us all. And it was into her she wanted me to go. As she first beckoned with her swirling arms of stars, Nebeula was grinning and glowing, brighter and brighter, until his body was suffused with blinding self-made starlight. Then her immense gravity took hold of both of us, until all that remained was Andromeda’s wondrous smile. It was the last thing I saw as I dived with my brother into her centre, ecstatic and Emissary free, a star child returning at last to her home.

---

I hope you enjoyed that small slice of science fiction silliness secreted from my scattered brain!

Here’s more on those provided prompts:

Prompt Quest #4

And you can check out all the other inspired stories here!

Prompt Quest #4: The Gathering Starts Now!

---