That night, Brad felt the relentless stare of the surveillance camera like a laser beam boring into his chest as he approached Felicia’s quarters. The cameras watched every square centimeter of the ship’s passageways and public spaces. He only hoped that Kosoff wasn’t searching their files for a sight of him.
He had put on his best tunic: black with silver piping. And brought a bouquet of colorful flowers which he hid behind his back as he pressed Felicia’s door buzzer.
The door slid open and she stood there, in a simple golden-yellow frock. Still, she looked like a princess to him.
He stepped into her sitting room and presented her with the flowers.
“Daffodils!” Felicia gasped, delighted. “Where did you get them?”
“Uh, Larry Untermeyer grows them. It’s his hobby. Says it helps to remind him of home.”
Felicia headed for the tiny kitchen and pulled a plastic vase from an overhead closet. “They’re lovely. It was very sweet of you, Brad.”
“It was sweet of you to cook dinner,” he said, stepping up to the bar that separated the sitting room from the kitchen.
“Microwaving prepackaged meals isn’t exactly cooking,” she said.
“It’s the thought that counts.”
Felicia gave him a long-lashed look, then turned her attention to arranging the daffodils in the vase.
“Reminds him of home,” she said, almost wistfully. “We’re a long way from home, aren’t we?”
“Two hundred years,” said Brad, hiking his rump onto one of the stools lining the bar.
“And another two hundred going home,” Felicia said as she placed the bouquet on the kitchen’s narrow table.
“What made you do it?” Brad asked. “What made you come out on this expedition?”
She pursed her lips, almost frowned. “I don’t know. It sounded … important. My thesis advisor said I’d be able to write my own ticket when I returned home. We all will, I imagine.”
“But … four hundred years,” Brad said. “Nobody we know will still be alive by the time we get back.”
Tightly, Felicia said, “That was one of the reasons I joined this mission. There are some people I don’t want to see again.”
Her face was dead serious. Not angry, not sorrowful, just—determined. She’s got a strong will, Brad thought. And guts.
“What about your parents?” he asked.
“My father’s remarried. He’s not interested in me.” Then, brightening, she said, “My mother’s had herself frozen, with instructions to be awakened when I return to Earth.”
“Wow. That takes guts.”
“She’s a gutsy woman.”
“Like you.”
Felicia stared at him, then turned to check the microwave.
Brad realized he’d been stupid. What if she asks me why I came out here? What can I tell her? Would she understand, or would she think I’m a coward, a failure?
But Felicia turned her attention to setting the table. When Brad offered to help she cheerfully told him to stay out of her way.
“The kitchen’s too small for two people to work in it,” Felicia insisted.
Once they sat down at the kitchen’s foldout table to eat dinner, Brad hardly paid attention to the food, or to the ice-cold white wine Felicia proffered. His attention was entirely focused on her.
“I’ll call you every day,” Felicia said. “I won’t let you get lonely.”
Thinking that a call was a lot different from actually being together, Brad said, “That’ll be wonderful.”
At last dinner was finished, they drank the last of the wine, and Brad sat staring across the little table at her, certain of what he wanted to do, but uncertain of how to go about doing it.
Felicia solved his problem. Without a word, she got up from the table, took his hand, and led him to the bedroom.
* * *
Hours later, as they lay sweaty and spent in bed together, Brad whispered, “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
“You’re spending the night here, aren’t you?” She sounded surprised, almost alarmed.
“I meant go to Alpha,” he explained. “I want to stay here. With you.”
“I’ll wait for you, Brad.”
“And I’ll wish for you.”
“It won’t be that long, will it?”
“Three months, at least.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“I’ll be alone out there. In exile.”
Felicia was silent for several long moments. Brad could feel her breathing as she lay against him.
At last she whispered, “We’re all in exile, aren’t we?”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone aboard this ship, everyone on this mission, we’ve exiled ourselves from Earth, from home. For four hundred years. We’ll never get back to the world that we left.”
He let out a long, sighing breath. “I’ve got nothing to go back to.”
“I volunteered for this mission.”
“We all did.”
“My fiancé had just dumped me,” she confessed. “I felt I had nothing to keep me on Earth. That’s the real reason.”
“He must have been an idiot.”
“No. He was ambitious, all right, but not stupid.”
Brad said, “Everybody on the ship has left their home, their family, everything they ever knew.”
“Why? Why would they willingly go on this one-way trip? Even when we return to Earth, hundreds of years will have passed. It won’t be our home anymore. We’ll be strangers there.”
“The official explanation is that we’ve volunteered to help save intelligent aliens from the death wave.”
“But that’s not the real reason, is it?”
“No, it’s not. Every person on this mission has a real, inner reason for exiling themselves like this.”
“My reason was stupid. I wanted to get away from my ex-fiancé. A silly little girl’s reason.”
“You’re not a silly little girl. He must have hurt you a lot.”
“What was your reason?”
Brad’s breath caught in his throat. Finally, he confessed, “I let my family die. I stood out there, safely, while they were crushed to death by the avalanche. I didn’t even try to help them.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I didn’t even try to help them,” Brad repeated. “I should have at least tried.”
Felicia wrapped her arms around him. “I’m glad you didn’t. I’m glad you lived and you’re here and we’re together.”
“I am too,” Brad admitted. And, with some surprise, he realized it was true.