Message in a Bottle
Breakaway + 10 yrs,
7 mos
Sandra
curled into the comfortable depths of the overstuffed chair in her quarters,
absently steadying the thin tablet pad on her lap as she worked. The mystery in front of her was utterly
captivating, but her intense concentration was rapidly becoming a source of displeasure
for the very young lady at the foot of the chair. When a small smacking sound failed to capture her mother’s
attention, the hungry infant wriggling in the makeshift bassinette resorted to
a fussy burble and then a hungry wail. Sandra
blinked her eyes in surprise at the noisy interruption but then smiled down at
the tiny infant. She stood and
stretched and then gracefully bent over to scoop up the protesting infant, the
only one of her three children who truly resembled her.
Only
released for part-time duty for yet another few weeks, Sandra rapidly was becoming
restless as her energy level returned.
Her older children, Danae and Richard, were in daycare. Almost six-year-old Danae was in the structured
half-day classes that taught the basics of safety and first aid disguised as
play, and two-and-a-half year old Richard spent his days with friends in the
crčche near Command Center. That left
only newborn Naomi for Sandra to keep an eye upon.
It
was the work of only a few minutes to warm a bottle, change Naomi’s nappy and
again curl up in the chair, now with the hungry baby. Sandra gently caressed the nursing child’s soft forehead and
cheeks as the brown, almond-shaped eyes looked up at her in utter bliss. Restless or not, the new life in her arms
made it all worthwhile.
Not
wanting to disturb the now sleeping infant, Sandra propped the computer tablet
against her knees with Naomi curled up against her mum’s warm shoulder. Sister Betty had again brought to Sandra’s
attention some unusual files from the extensive cache sent by Dr. Logan’s tech
all those years ago when John, Helena and Alan had been trapped in old
Scotland. Years of work repairing the
damage caused during transmission and then more time decoding the advanced programming
had revealed literature, films and even a small amount of information concerning
the neutrino technology that had nearly cost Alpha so dearly. Sandra and others still found it amazing
that they could read novels and stories written after
they had left Earth, and that even belonged to a time still in their relative
future.
The
files in front of her now, however, were distinctly different from the files
that had contained the written stories, or even the files with the video images
that were still patchy in many places.
These files were encoded in a form of computer language that was more
contemporary to their own Alphan technology, but subtly different. To Sandra, it seemed almost as if a slightly
different programming process or logic was in place. One that had the flavor of a language she had learned in her
history of programming classes at McGill, but that had fallen out of favor with
succeeding software generations. Sandra
had a working theory— but without any evidence she had found herself very hesitant
to share it with anyone. Still…
Helena
has commented that several of the American children’s stories they had rescued
from Dr. Logan’s cache were not exactly as she recalled. Tony had said the same about a book of
Italian children’s stories, and Yasko was convinced that a volume of Japanese
children’s haikus were mistranslated, although why a book written in its native
Japanese would be so in error was a mystery to Sandra. Unless…
She
had not mentioned her suspicions to anyone, not even Alan, but Sandra suspected
that Dr. Logan’s Earth may not have been ‘their’ Earth. They had seen and experienced one parallel
Earth, why not others? Once again drawn
into the challenge of deciphering the remaining files, Sandra’s attention was
absorbed by the program in front of her.
For the time being at least, Naomi snuggled happily against all that was
important in her small universe.
The
short afternoon passed quickly with Sandra making significant progress teasing
apart the remaining difficulties blocking access to Sister Betty’s find. She was almost at a stopping point when the
door chirped its opening warning followed almost immediately by the arrival of
a small silver-ish whirlwind otherwise known as Danae Lynne Carter.
“Mum,
I found it! I found the bunyip!”
~~~~~~~~
All three children were finally asleep, and Naomi wasn’t due to awaken for her next feeding for at least a couple of hours. Alan quietly closed the door to the adult’s room where the infant slept peacefully in her bassinette after finishing an early evening bottle. Stretching tall to get the kinks out of stiff shoulders, he then crossed the main living space to the small kitchen area to rinse out the reusable bottle and get himself a snack.
The day’s outing with Danae’s age-mates had proved very successful, but he was now paying the price of keeping track of the herd of manic nearly six-year-olds. They’d been all over Alpha as they navigated through a series of mock disaster drills arranged for their unknowing benefit. The kids had thought it all a grand game but Alan, Tony and Bill along with a few others had scaled down real emergencies into child-sized crises that had required some independent thinking and coping skills. The kids had come through amazingly well given their very young age. The treat at the end had been finding the mythological Australian bunyip whose native habitat was the Outback, and certain Alphan catacomb caverns. Maya had had a grand time also.
Munching on some apple slices and holding a small bunch of grapes, Alan returned to the darkened main room. He found Sandra stretched out on the sofa still working on the ever-present tablet pad under the reading lamp. Whatever her current project was, she didn’t seem to be able to let it go. She had been like this for the past three nights and Alan decided that enough was enough. He was tired of being ignored, and being jilted for a computer was simply insulting. And the computer wasn’t even all that good-looking.
He casually sauntered over to the sofa and knelt down behind the end which Sandra was leaning against. He was a bit miffed to realize she didn’t even register he was that close to her. He lifted the grapes overhead and slowly lowered them into her field of view. They were a rare treat and he had managed to score a bunch as he corralled his small charges through hydroponics today. Mostly on the promise he’d get them out of hydroponics. Sandra especially was fond of the grapes and he planned on exacting a hefty payment.
“Mmm.” Sandra looked up as the cluster of purple fruit finally broke her concentration. She reached up to take one only to find them moved out of reach. Before she could protest, an orange-sleeved arm snaked around her side and placed a seeded grape in her mouth. She turned around knowing what she would find and was not disappointed. “Alan. Thank you.”
“There’s more.” He stood up into a crouch and held the sweet fruit just out of reach. His smile was innocent but a quick glance further south told Sandra where his real intentions lay. “It depends on what I’m offered in exchange.”
Sandra smiled. She turned off the tablet pad, placed it on the table and dimmed the reading lamp further. Holding out her arms to welcome him onto the sofa, she paid Alan’s price in full, and then some.
~~~~~~~~
Alan ran his hand along Sandra’s bare side as she rested in the narrow space between him and the back of the sofa. It was a good thing neither of them was exactly on the heavy side, but still, he felt a bit silly making love on the sofa when there was a perfectly good and much more comfortable bed just a few feet away. Chalk it up to the joys of having kids, and a newborn who had taken over their bedroom. Older kids who slept very soundly, thank goodness.
“Last one?” Sandra asked as she placed the grape in his mouth and then tidied the small pile of seeds that had collected on his bare chest as they had enjoyed the fruit together. The seeds would go back to hydroponics in the morning.
“Thanks, love.” He enjoyed the sweet taste of the last grape and then leaned forward and kissed Sandra, enjoying again the taste of the grapes on her. Relaxing back against the sofa arm, his arm bumped the tablet pad perched precariously on the edge of the low table. Quick reflexes saved it from a fall.
“Now then, Sahn. What the heck has had your attention on that pad for the past few days?” Alan felt Sandra shrug.
“More information from Texas City, but as to what, I am uncertain.”
“More stories?” There was an indulgent chuckle in Alan’s voice for Sandra’s almost insatiable reading habit.
“I do not believe so. There is something different about these files, Alan.”
Alan nodded amiably as he pulled the blanket over them. Naomi would get them up shortly and then they would move back to their own bed.
“Close to cracking the code?”
Sandra nodded slightly. “Very. I think tomorrow.” Her voice was almost asleep.
“That’s good.”
They dozed contentedly in one another’s arms.
~~~~~~~~
The usual morning chaos reigned in the Carter household but Alan quickly sorted things out as he scooped up his elder children, one perched on each arm, and headed out for the day. Sister Betty was due at 0900 to go over the mystery files and after that Sandra and Naomi would pick up Richard from the crčche to enjoy some time in his company.
Sister Betty was prompt as usual and took over the needs of Naomi with evident delight. Sandra busied herself setting up the larger terminal and then pulled over two chairs so they could more easily review the new information together. Sandra transferred her latest work and once Sister Betty sat down beside her, prepared to see what was in this latest find.
The file opened easily in response to Sandra pressing the final key. She quickly scanned the information in front of her with a growing sense of disbelief and then returned to the top to read more carefully. It was a letter addressed to the people of Moonbase Alpha, and it was written by a man Sandra had met once as a very young woman flying with her mother, a professional courier pilot. On that long-ago flight there had been a group of American journalists en route to the Vatican for a rare meeting with the new Pontiff. The senior member of the team had been very kind to her when he had discovered her interest in the space program. The mustached, silver-haired gentleman had shared his memories of the events early on in the race to have a man orbit the Earth, and then later to land a man on the moon. His resonate voice and vivid descriptions of the events and astronauts he had met had been an inspiration to the young, mesmerized Sandra. Only later had she learned that her new friend was Walter Cronkite.
Though there were still gaps in the text, the message left each woman shaken and silent.
On this day, five years after the terrible events of September 13th, 1999, we pause to remember the 311 men and women from around our world who were lost with Moonbase Alpha. They and the men and women who died on the Centauri Space Dock and in the ships in orbit were but the first of thousands and millions who died as the results of the shattering changes wrought that day by Man’s hubris and arrogance. Only now do we fully begin to understand the consequences of the events that occurred, in the changes we see to our environment, our civiliza… … … …
Today, though, we will pause to celebrate the lives of those who reached for the stars in their attempts to enrich the lives of those of us here on Earth. We pause to celebrate the families and friends who nurtured their dreams and aspirations… …
… … Little did I know, or could any of us have known, that September 13th would be the last time we would be able to touch them, if only with our voices. I was honored to have met many of those who served on Moonbase Alpha, and have since kept them in my thoughts and prayers … …
… … that they were soon to forever slip the surly bonds of Earth, and to go forth and touch the face of God.
… … … …Let us now give our humble attention to the friends and relatives of those we have lost as they read aloud their names, and in this small way continue to keep each brave soul alive in our memories and hearts.
Godspeed, Alphans.
Walter Cronkite
13th September 2004
Still numb, Sandra clicked open the next file and saw it was a visual record of those who had read their names, but as with other visual files sent, the code appeared damaged and would not run in its present form. With shaky hands she saved that file to work on later. She wondered who had read her name. And Alan’s.
She looked up to the woman seated next to her. Sister Betty sat very still, pale and solemn. “It is… disconcerting to read about your own memorial service.” Sister Betty nodded to the screen, her face a wealth of emotions. She paused to take a few calming breaths and then smiled slightly toward Sandra. “And for Dr. Logan’s people, this was all ancient history.”
Sandra did not easily show her feelings to anyone but Alan, but the emotions that ran through her just now were too intense to hide. So wrapped up in her own thoughts, Sandra did not appreciate Sister Betty moving her chair closer to hers until the nun’s arm lay lightly across her shoulders and she was gathered to Sister Betty’s side.
The tears flowed freely as both women cried.
~~~~~~~~
“Here, there are files listed with each of our names.” Sandra opened the first file, that of Laura Adams, feeling it less intrusive to examine the information of one already dead. The information was incomplete as in the other files they had opened so far, but there was a letter written to Laura from her mother dated 30 September 1999 and then another dated 7 March 2001, that one starting out with ‘Happy Birthday.’ The next file had a lengthy letter written in the Cyrillic alphabet to Tanya Aleksandr but the date was absent. Sandra closed that file and opened one further down listed ‘David Kano.’ It was a letter written by his brother dated 13 September 2000. In Dan Mateo’s file there was one in Italian from April, 2002. She hesitated over the file for ‘Paul Morrow’, but did not open it. She looked up to Sister Betty.
“Letters, from home. Written after Breakaway.” Sandra quickly scrolled down the names. As far as she could tell, there appeared to be a file for every person that was assigned to Alpha as of 13 September 1999.
“A time capsule of sorts,” Sister Betty agreed in awe. “For the families left on Earth to find some closure, I would suppose.”
Sandra quickly sorted through the alphabetical list, finding her file very close to the top with Alan’s not that far behind. She did not think she was ready to open hers.
She again looked over to Sister Betty. “What do we do with these? As they stand, many are unreadable. Do we have the right to raise people’s hopes only to disappoint most of them?”
“I don’t know, Sandra. I just don’t know.” There was a pause as each woman thought of their options. “I’d say we tell Dr. Mathias and Dr. Russell, and the Commander, and let them decide. Some Alphans may not… deal well with voices from the past. I just… don’t know.”
Sandra agreed with that prudent plan and reached for her commlock to call Helena.
~~~~~~~~
“This is… incredible.” Helena looked up, her green eyes wide with amazement. “And you say you found this in the information transmitted by Dr. Logan’s team?”
“Yes. It was actually mixed in amongst the files for children’s literature that I’ve been sorting for years now.” Sister Betty was holding and rocking a contented Naomi. “But the question remains, what should we do with it?”
Helena exhaled through pursed lips and sat back in her chair as she ran a hand over her very gravid middle. Sandra could see her eyes still searching the files. Probably for her own.
“We speak with Bob. You and he will have the best understanding of how this might be received. I’d say we take it on a case by case basis, but I can’t see hiding this from anyone.”
“Helena, many of the files are damaged. It will need time to try to recover what we can. Not every file will be salvageable.” Sandra held her tumbling emotions strictly in check.
“Good.”
Sandra looked at Helena in amazement.
“That will give us time to consider our options as you try to recover as much as you can.”
~~~~~~~~
A day later, the Command decision had been made to tell no one else except for Tony and Maya, at least for the moment. As it turned out, not every Alphan was represented by a file. Helena for one, Professor Bergman for another. And upon closer review, there were a few names Helena and Sandra recognized at Alphans who had rotated off duty in the weeks preceding Breakaway. And one name neither woman nor Computer could place.
The Commander wanted more work done on deciphering what was in the files and detailed Maya to help. Helena wanted time to rectify the discrepancies in the names.
Sandra’s maternity leave was over.
~~~~~~~~
Sandra sat back from her terminal in the computer lab and took a deep breath. After another week of debugging, essentially all of the written files were now readable. Those that weren’t were beyond her skill. All that remained now were the visual records, and those she had assigned to a willing Maya. Sandra wasn’t sure she wanted to face the images of family and friends quite yet.
She placed her work under tight encryption and stood and pushed in the chair. She needed some family time before she faced the consequences of her work.
~~~~~~~~
That evening in their quarters, Alan sensed her need for a change. For the evening’s entertainment, he ordered up an old Australian children’s show he had watched as a child. Danae and Richard were enchanted to hear others speak as their Papa did and laughed in all the right places. The entire family sat on the sofa and ate snacks while Sandra enjoyed Alan’s unquestioning support and love tucked up against his side.
Bedtime was early for the children but neither Danae nor Richard protested. Rearranging himself off the sofa, and kissing Sandra enthusiastically much to the children’s delight, Alan then led the way to the children’s bedroom. Sandra remained silently on the sofa and cuddled a sleeping Naomi.
“Alright, Sahn. I know John has you working hard, but what gives?”
Sandra looked up to see a worried expression on Alan’s face. With a surge of guilt, she realized that she had yet to fill in Alan about their ‘finds’. The prohibition against telling others had not been meant to exclude Alan; in fact, the Commander had asked her to keep Alan up to date.
She placed Naomi back in her bassinette and held her hand out to Alan.
Once again settled against his warm side and with his arm protectively draped around her, Sandra filled Alan in. Somehow, Sandra knew that these files would not bring the joy the others from Texas City had. Those files that had new novels and even some of the shorter animated features that had been salvaged. Leaning forward, she picked up her ever-present tablet pad from the sofa table, quickly called up her recent work and entered the decryption codes.
She opened the file with Walter Cronkite’s letter and passed it to Alan. She watched his face as he read the letter, now with fewer gaps, and saw the dawning understanding of what it was they had found. She deeply feared these messages would cause sadness and maybe even grief, and she was to be the messenger. And she still harbored the secret doubt that these letters were even from ‘their’ Earth, and if they were not, was it the proper thing to give them out?
Sandra and Alan sat quietly in the dim room working through the possible outcomes they could see. Alan tried to put a positive spin on the situation as usual, but Sandra remained doubtful. Naomi’s midnight feeding put a pause on the discussion and Alan offered to take care of her, although the midnight shift was usually Sandra’s chore. Without waiting for an answer, Alan fetched Naomi for Sandra to do a quick nappy change and after a gentle, reassuring kiss on his wife’s lips, headed to the cold box to fetch a bottle.
With Alan involved in feeding the baby, Sandra steadily regarded the tablet pad resting on the sofa table in front of her. Several times she moved to pick it up, only to pull her hand back at the last moment. She knew the letter existed, so opening it should not cause a problem. Or so she believed. And hoped. She finally looked up when Alan walked out of their bedroom where a full, dry Naomi again slept peacefully.
“Well, are you or aren’t you?” Alan sat down next to Sandra and pulled her over against him. Both of them looked at the pad still sitting on the sofa table.
Sandra reached for Alan’s hand. Its familiar calluses and gentle strength brought her needed comfort. Nodding to herself, she made to reach for the pad, but Alan did so first. Sandra looked at him in surprise. He had not voiced interest in seeing his file.
“Alright, so I’m curious. Let’s just hope I don’t end up like the proverbial cat.” He grinned at his wife.
Alan leaned back against the sofa pulling Sandra over into his lap and then resting the pad on her lap where they both could see it. Before he turned it on, he nuzzled into Sandra’s neck deliberately hitting the exact spot that always made her shiver. “I love you, Sahn.”
Sandra sighed as she relaxed against Alan. He had the knack of saying exactly what she needed to hear. She watched as Alan tapped on the pad and selected his name. The pad dimmed unexpectedly but only briefly and then the letter appeared before them. Sandra felt Alan’s arms tighten around her as he read the screen. She moved her hand to rest alongside his arm and ran light fingers along his forearm. She turned in his arms to watch his face.
“It’s from my folks. Dad starts off but Mum finishes it. It looks like they wrote it for the memorial service.”
Dear Alan, Well son, we always knew there was a chance one day you wouldn’t come home from the stars, but we didn’t expect you to take the moon with you. Damn, but when you do something you do it in style…
There was a pause after Alan finished reading out loud the lengthy letter. Both sat stunned. The news of the death of Alan’s pregnant sister Lynne on the same day as Breakaway from auto accident injuries hit them both hard. Sandra felt Alan take a few shuddering breaths.
“Damn. They lost both of us on the same day. At least they still had my brother Keith, and the grandchildren. And Allanna Lynne. At least she survived. But… damn it all.” Alan seemed to cling to his newborn niece’s survival for his parent’s sake.
Sandra wrapped her arms around Alan’s neck and rested her cheek against his to lend him her support. And she didn’t want him seeing her face just then. Sandra knew from an e-mail that had arrived just prior to Breakaway, but that she had only stumbled across five years later, that Alan’s niece from ‘their’ Earth had been stillborn in the same accident that had claimed the mother. Sandra had chosen to delete that message without Alan ever knowing of it. She had questioned her decision more than once over the years and now again she found herself filled with doubt. Had she misread the e-mail? Maybe the child had survived… but that message was long gone. She would never know.
The revelations from Alan’s family strengthened her need to read her own letter. She took the pad from Alan’s hands.
“You sure, love?’”
Sandra nodded decisively and tapped on her name. Again there was the brief dimming and again a document appeared. It was dated September 2004. She read the first few paragraphs slowly, savoring the message from her step-mother, but then after reading several paragraphs in growing confusion and amazement skipped to the end to confirm her disbelief. She felt her hands go numb and Alan reached quickly to keep the pad from slipping away.
“Sahn? Sandra?”
“It is from my mother.”
“From Diane?” Alan had met Sandra’s step-mother during the propulsion physics classes she had taught at the RAAF Academy. Of course, he hadn’t known she was Sandra’s step-mum back then. Sandra’s mum had died in the lead up to the War back in ’87.
“No. My mother. Elisabeth Aung Benes.”
~~~~~~~~
“Commander, Helena, please consider before you tell others about these letters.” Sandra faced the Command Staff, her face a mask of false calmness but entirely resolute in her determination. “These letters are not from our families. What is written in them can be very… unsettling.” After a pause she continued quietly. “It is like a shadow of Breakaway…”
Helena was watching Sandra closely and realized her calm expression masked a deep fear. Sandra had told her what had been in the letters they had read and how the unexpected, the impossible news had affected her and Alan. Alan was easier to read… he was plainly distressed, although Helena was uncertain if it was from what was in his letter or on Sandra’s behalf. Even Sister Betty, invited here for this topic, showed signs of unease. And the nun had a professional ‘face’ that rivaled her own.
“Well, it does explain some of the complaints we’ve heard about the stories, if Dr. Logan’s lot weren’t from our time. But does this make those stories any less real?” Tony asked to buy some time for his friends to regain their composure.
Maya finally spoke up. She had corrected the errors in the computer codes assigned to her and the images now streamed correctly. She even had managed to transfer her ‘patch’ to the films found years earlier and they now played almost flawlessly. The revelation that this information was from an alternate reality was, to her, fascinating, but she could see the effects the news was having on those about her. Tony had expressed a desire to read his ‘letter’ until Alan had strongly suggested he not. “The literature is real. The fiction stories are as ‘real’ as they were before we knew this. And the technology is as valuable as any we have come across.”
Watching Sandra and Alan, Helena came to a conclusion. If these two could be so deeply unsettled by their findings, how would others react? Not well, she feared. It had taken her months to fully recover form her experience with ‘Lee’ on Terra Nova. An entire Alpha suffering from that sort of shock did not bode well. She exchanged a quick look with Bob Mathias who Helena could see shared her concerns. With a concurring nod from Bob, she answered Maya.
“True enough, Maya. But I agree with Sandra, I feel this knowledge may be too destructive.”
Bob lent his support. “This is too close to the Breakaway trauma we all survived. People will need to be prepared, if we decide to release this.”
John looked between Helena and Bob in surprise. “So we withhold it? Not all of the news need be so disturbing as…” John cast a look of understanding to the two seated opposite him and then back to Helena.
“Until Bob and Sister Betty can review the ramifications more, I say yes, we withhold the ‘letters’.”
“And the images of family and friends reading our names?” Tony asked.
“Especially those.” Bob was emphatic. “Until we know what better, the damage in morale could be extensive.”
“I have to ask, Helena,” Tony said apologetically but continued nonetheless, “this isn’t just because you weren’t included in the files?”
“Tony, I wasn’t included because I didn’t exist on that Alpha. My predecessor, Darrel Wandell, was still serving as CMO. I count myself lucky that I don’t face the temptation you do.”
“Tony, if I may speak…”
Tony gave way as only a parochially trained Catholic child will do in the face of Authority. “Certainly, Sister.”
“I must concur. This information could be damaging to the mental health, or perhaps simply call it the internal balance, of people who are routinely stable. I feel even more strongly than Dr. Mathias. This has the potential of completely recreating the trauma of Breakaway. And we have all lived through that once. And I believe that is enough.”
John Koenig watched the discussion go back and forth. He had made up his mind.
“We contain the information. For now.”
~~~~~~~~
“You agree with John’s decision?” Alan asked as he pulled off his shirt later that day as they prepared for bed.
Sandra looked over at him in surprise. “Yes. Don’t you?”
“Yeah. I do.”
Sandra sat down on the edge of their bed, and after checking on Naomi, studied Alan’s face carefully. She knew he had decided to believe Lynne and her baby had survived in their universe, and she wasn’t about to disillusion him. She found herself still torn about her own family. To know her mother had survived somewhere was a joy, but in Dr. Logan’s universe it had meant that her younger half-sister had never been born. And she had loved Julia more as a daughter than as sister she now knew.
If Dr. Mathias and the others ever did decide to reveal this information, she just hoped they carefully prepared the Alphans first. She was grateful it was not her call.
Alan turned out the light and crawled in next to her. Sandra found herself being pulled into his arms for mutual comfort. From his breathing, she knew he lay awake in the dark for as long as she did.
epilogue…
Sister Betty was about to break a direct order from her Commanding Officer. And what made it worse was that she completely agreed with the order. In the middle of the ‘night’ in her small office near the data storage facilities, Sister Betty entered the codes she had seen Sandra use a few days earlier. She had only seen Sandra enter them once, but that was all she needed. Her eidetic memory would not let her forget. She sat back and waited the brief time it took for Computer to pull up the restricted file.
Her file, from Dr. Logan’s Earth.
Betty had been an orphan raised by nuns and who had then joined the order as a matter of expectation. Her family had been the sisters and her confessor priest, Father Michael, who had later been elevated to high positions within the Church hierarchy. She pressed the key to open the file.
My dearest child in Christ, I have always had the greatest of faiths in this magnificent Universe of ours. Perhaps, a faith not so dissimilar to that of a man standing on the edge of a vast ocean and consigning to its deeps a message in a bottle. A message that he knows, one day, somehow, will reach you. That you have been tested greatly, I have no doubt. But I also have no doubt that you have but risen to the occasion. That is your nature. Now you will be tested even more. All I may offer you is my faith in your faith. God is merciful and you will be the one to remind others of that simple truth. Remember what is important. Teach what is common to all. I shall remember you in my prayers. Go with God, my daughter.
Fr. Michael of Avignone,
now styled Alessio II
Sister Betty closed the file and entered the code to erase the electronic footprints of her presence. She turned off the terminal and sat quietly back in her chair. Now, she knew. Any lingering doubt about her role on Alpha had been silenced. Now, she truly understood her calling.