“You know I love you, John,” the hologram began, and the look on her recorded face was so earnest he knife-handed the replay. The woman he loved stilled, a sad apology still frozen upon her lips.
“I’ll be damned if you Dear John me on our anniversary, Fedora.” He yanked shirts out without looking and slammed the drawer, so close it caught the tip of his finger. It throbbed as he continued packing with hands grown awkward. “Your happiness was worth the risk of going to space. But if you won’t come to me, then I’ll have to head to you.”
The tabby on the bed flicked her tail in response. Fedora, her hair unnaturally short for the days spent in zero-grav, watched it all with an unblinking stare, even as yawning fangs emerged from her chest with a yowl.
“Fine,” he snapped, and dug in the closet until he found the carrier he’d bought half as a joke, the one with the sturdy viewing bubble and its own emergency oxygen supply. “But you’re lucky the station even allows you to come with me.”
Fedora watched it all, until he left her silent and still, in the empty, grief-shattered home they’d once shared.
He regretted the decision to bring the cat as he argued with the spaceport’s ticket salesbot. “How much extra for this rat catcher?”
“Rodents are not yet an on-station problem, sir. Cats are therefore permitted as a luxury item of baggage and subject to additional fees. It’s quite clear on our website.”
The robot’s bland enunciation was somehow a condescending snub.
“The policy may be revised once the station is fully inhabited and functional terraforming has begun. Do you still wish to purchase a ticket at this time?”
He smacked a fist onto the counter. “It’s this or retirement.”
“I’m sorry, but that is not an answer.”
“Yes, blast it.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, then unzipped his jacket to access his spacepass. “Retirement wouldn’t be right without her anyway.”
“John?”
That voice – dulcet, surprised tones he’d heard only this morning, leaving the void of a fractured heart. John turned, disbelief and hope warring in his throat. “Dora. My Fedora.”
She rushed him then, duffle bag slung over one shoulder, wrapping him in arms grown fragile from months on station.
He spun her around, ignoring the bleating bot and irritated passengers dodging her long legs swung wide.
The cat’s squall from the specialty backpack brought him to a slow halt.
“What are you doing here?” Her laugh was casual, confused. “Did you come to pick me up? How did you know I’d be on this flight?”
He dropped a kiss on her forehead, rescued his bag with one hand from the slow approach of a security bot, and hugged her close. “I came to get you back.”
“What?” She started to laugh again, then sobered. “Did you get my message?”
“Yes.” The word was terse, dropping into the mix of announcements and happy reunions.
Fedora looked at him, patted his stubble with one hand, and tugged on his jacket. “Come on. Let’s go find one of those outside benches. I want to feel sunlight on my face again.”
They sat in silence, waving off taxis, his arm wrapped around her frail figure. The tabby rested at their feet in her bubble, watching traffic and travelers with alert ears and whiskers.
“Why?”
She snuggled into his shoulder, burying her face into leather and flannel.
“Two days ago, there was an accident.” Dora rubbed a thin hand over her eyes. “At least, it looked like one. I suppose it could have been clever sabotage. Space does strange things to people.”
He hadn’t thought it was possible to pull her closer.
“The matériels mix was wrong, and just as we pressurized and thought we were safe…Suddenly, there’s a damn hole in the wall. The one we spent a week building. Just crumbled away.” She shuddered. “Air rushing through, and I’m just standing there, in space with my helmet off, wondering why there’s a hole in the damn wall.”
The sun’s comforting warmth was incongruous with the sobs wracking her body.
“Kayla and Bob didn’t make it.” A security announcement in four languages nearly drowned out her words. “Bob, you know he has – had – a thing for her, and I knew he wanted to go to her. But our training is clear. You help who’s closest. And that was me.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “I saw his eyes flicker, and once I’d snapped out of shock and got moving, I pushed him aside. Got my helmet back on and oxygen flowing.” She pushed her short hair back, a habit space hadn’t broken of her even after years. “The rest of the wall had collapsed on both of them.”
He didn’t have words, so he stroked her hair.
“The job wasn’t worth the cost anymore. Not if it meant losing you.” She wiped her eyes. “I’d already lost my crew. So I sent you that message and told you I was coming home.”
“I probably should have listened to the whole holo,” he admitted after watching a pigeon peck at the cat’s plexiglass bubble, secure in its taunting in the way only city pigeons had.
“Wait. Why were you here, John?”
“Coming to get you back.” He shrugged, as much as he could without dislodging her from his arms.
“You hate space,” she said in a whisper.
“And I wasn’t about to let it have you permanently,” he answered simply. “Though I’m glad you caught me before I paid for that ticket.”
Her laugh turned into a snort this time. She nudged the pigeon away with an outstretched boot. “Worse, before you paid for your really expensive and angry carry-on.”
“Means I didn’t have to pawn this.” A brilliant rainbow cut through the spring afternoon’s glow. He held the open box toward her. It’d taken some doing, tugging it from his jacket pocket and opening the box one-handed. “What do you say?”
Her kiss cut off his question.
“I say let’s go home. Forever.”
***
MOTE
