The week after returning was the hardest week of Tracey's life. She tried her best to press on with her work, which had continued in her absence, but she would reach the time that her day was supposed to end, and her night begin, and remember that James would not be waiting for her, strong, warm, and intensely passionate. He had not been watching her move through her day. He hadn't whispered his love into her mind every time her easily distracted consciousness had the audacity to forget it. She cried often, and spent hours in front of the tank his body floated in, pulling in futility on his lost being.
Sooner than she'd thought possible, it got easier. Quiet moments of desperation in front of the tank were slowly replaced with moments with Ripley or Newt. And after just two weeks, her ever practical, curly haired friend caved.
"I won't lie to you, Trace," Ripley said in a shaky voice. "I'm terrified."
"Don't be. I promised I'd be here, and that everything would be fine."
She stared down at the egg, unable to even blink. Tracey was suitless, and reached out to take Ripley's hand.
"It's not right. Everything about this feels wrong."
"It won't do a thing until you're ready. You can stare at it for an hour if it makes you feel better."
The terrified woman closed her eyes, shook her head, and placed one hand on the leathery surface. It opened slowly, and she opened her eyes to look. She shuddered at the sight of the mask inside.
"I really have to pick it up? I'd almost rather it jumped on my face."
Tracey giggled. "I can do it for you."
Ripley shook her head again and reached inside, extracting the key to her future. She closed her eyes again, and brought it to her face. She tensed as the process began, and Tracey squeezed her hand gently. Tracey saw nothing she hadn't already of the subsequent twelve hours, but Ripley was a nervous wreck, asking questions about every single thing. She bit her hand, and looked up at the ceiling when her suit hatched. Tracey never once left her alone. It was the first time she'd gone more than a day without visiting James.
They visited James together afterward, though they avoided the tank where Ripley's suit was growing by unspoken agreement. Tracey had taken to sharing her day with him, sending her thoughts into the void surrounding his mind, hoping some part of him was still there to hear her. The third week was full of more firsts. Newt was a mind writer. The idea of an almost seven year old with the power of mind control was more than a little unsettling. Gordon recalled Phoebe to help tutor her.
"It's so boring," Newt complained. "She makes me sit and just think about stuff."
She was inside her suit, hanging from a ceiling fixture by her tail. She was small and still growing, and her suit was no different. Tracey found it surprising how unnerving it was to see the diminutive Traveler suit on a regular basis.
"You know why that is?" Ripley asked from somewhere on the station.
"Yes, momma," Newt said, her mental tone suggesting a sassy eye roll was in progress. "So I don't hurt myself or anyone else."
"Do you want to hurt yourself or someone else?" the woman pressed.
"No, momma," Newt replied seriously.
"Good. Besides, you're not bored right now are you?"
"No."
"Wouldn't it be more fun for you to enjoy the time you aren't practicing, by not complaining about practicing?"
Newt seemed to ponder this question for a few seconds. "I guess."
Tracey laughed. It was a real laugh, rather than the pained laughs that always made her feel slightly guilty whenever she remembered how sad she was supposed to be.
"Trace," Ripley said, switching tone and isolating the new conversation from Newt. "You okay?"
"Better every day Rip. I miss him. So fucking much."
Ripley had become an easy friend. Her mind was open, and she was always honest.
"Are you going to visit him later?"
Tracey was torn. She desperately wanted to, but at the same time she knew it wouldn't make her feel better. There had been no change. The cloud of shredded consciousness tethered by a single fibrous strand of thought seemed no more responsive than it had at the beginning. Phoebe had even reached out with her enhanced mental strength, and could make no discernible difference. Knox and Gordon were both resolute in their belief that nothing could be done, and they told Tracey as much every time they spoke. They were not unkind, but they felt her desperate cling to James' living corpse as they thought of it, was unhealthy, and they worried about her. She was wavering, and she hated herself for it.
"I don't think so." Her mental tone was terribly sad, and her struggle with the decision weighed heavily on the link between her and Ripley.
"Whatever you want, hun," the other woman said somberly. "Company then? Dwayne brought me a bottle of Irish whiskey to apologize for being a git. I'm still on the fence about the forgiving part, but I'm definitely going to drink it while I mull it over."
Tracey chuckled. "Sounds nice. Bring it."
That evening was full of easy conversation, and the pleasant buzz of intoxication. It wasn't as much fun when they had to prevent their bodies from filtering out the alcohol, but it achieved the same result. Ripley eventually did decide to forgive Hicks, and Tracey had to laugh even as she blocked out the mental image of exactly what kind of forgiveness she planned to offer him.
Another week passed without change, but Tracey received word that Harold was inbound with five passengers. Mike and Sarah had made their decision, and Charlie had been brought into the loop as well. Their ETA was two weeks.
Tracey, possessing far more free time than she was used to, made rapid progress in catching up with Angelichem. She had more than thirty iterations of each of her medication formulas ready to go. It would take the competitors a decade to get to where she was. It made her maliciously pleased to know she was undermining profit centric corporations, helping people, and still managing to pull a higher profit than any other entity on the market. The money went back into the company immediately, expanding their reach and increasing the availability even further. Already her competitors were being strangled. There were rumors circulating that the corporations affected were petitioning the courts to pursue an antitrust allegation, but Tracey ran a squeaky clean operation, leaving no opportunities for legal recourse.
"It's good to see you Trace," Harold said warmly as he stepped off the Caelum a couple of weeks later, though his eyes were sad.
"You as well."
"Is it too much to ask to see him? I can wait if it's not a good time."
"Not at all. Come on."
Harold cried for several minutes at the sight of James' inert form in the yellow-green liquid.
"I should have known he'd do this to himself sooner or later. He could never help himself."
"I know," Tracey agreed, unable to stop herself from crying as well, her older friend hugging her.
"I've never been closer," Harold said over a beer later that day. "I'm so tempted to change my mind and embrace the change. If you asked me, I'd do it. Maybe as a Traveler, my knowledge of subspace could save him."
Tracey gave a sad smile and shook her head. "I would never ask you to do that. I know it isn't what you want. I wish it selfishly for myself, but I'd never ask it."
He inhaled deeply and nodded. "Perhaps I can just look over his notes, if I could ever hope to understand them."
"If anyone could," Tracey replied.
Ripley and Newt joined them, and Harold was ecstatic, despite the somber undertones of the meeting.
"As I live and breathe. You are a living legend Ellen Ripley."
The woman sighed. "So I've been told. I don't feel very legendary."
"On the contrary. You've survived so much, and we never would have made all these discoveries without your tenacity."
Ripley had heard these praises before, and Tracey watched her become more and more irritated, but the sincerity Harold delivered his words with, made him impossible to doubt.
"I didn't do anything but lose friends. But I'm heartened to know their lives weren't lost for nothing. You guys have helped a lot of people."
"That's incredibly high praise," Harold said. "And who is this charming young lady?" Tracey had already filled him in on the whole story, but Newt gave the perfect reaction to the sudden attention.
"I'm Newt! Are you one of Miss Tracey's friends?"
"I surely am. My name is Harold, and I'm delighted to meet you."
"Momma told me that you brought some playmates?"
"I did! My great nieces, Molly and Caily. They're twins. I'm sure they'll be happy to play with you once they're finished with some important business."
Newt looked expectantly up at Ripley as a silent conversation passed between them. Newt smiled brilliantly at whatever answer Ripley gave her. Tracey smiled indulgently. It had taken a couple of weeks for Newt to pick up on the trick of seamlessly switching between vocal speech, and mental communication. But as with all things put before her, she did master it in the end.
"I can't wait!" she said. "Hi Miss Tracey!" She bolted for the door, and Ripley chased after with a laugh.
Tracey was suddenly struck with the realization that there was so much happiness happening all around her. A sob wracked her as she simultaneously understood that most of it was thanks to James' many sacrifices. She ran from the bar and didn't stop until she reached her suit, where the run increased in speed. She stopped in front of James' tank and screamed into the void like she hadn't in weeks. She begged, and pleaded. She wasn't even sure what for at that point. Would it be better if his body was gone too? The destruction of that final shred of hope, to let her finally release him from her heart. Or was she still intent on his return, a hopeless dream with no basis in reality. She wasn't sure. She curled into a ball and gave in to her pain.
She was catatonic, cut off from her senses, turned inward completely. She didn't even have the emotional strength to reach out and cling to that final strand of James. She didn't want to. She didn't need to pull on the magnanimous weight to know she had no power to move it. What was the point of a universe as empty as the one she inhabited? What was the point of her? What had she accomplished that someone else couldn't continue? She'd had two years of bliss. Was it enough? She decided it was.
A blade of thought pierced the cloud of despair, and Tracey tasted the mental tenor of Phoebe. The woman's mind was cold and determined, operating on orders from Gordon. She attempted to restrain Tracey's mind, but the grieving woman retaliated with more strength than anyone, even Tracey, had thought possible. She followed a mental pattern she'd learned from James, twisting her mind into a fragmented tornado. There was no purchase to be made, and Phoebe was flung out of her head. Tracey sealed herself shut again, and began the desperate process of shutting her body down. Phoebe did not give up, but Tracey's mind had become a fortress. Her vitals began failing, one at a time. She rejoiced as she felt herself slipping away to wherever James was.
She felt desperation emanating from a multitude of voices, some vocal and nearby, and others mental. Then, quiet as a whisper, but with more force than any being had ever used on her, a mental probe slid into her thoughts as gently as it could. There was no resisting this force. It was steel against her defense of tin. The attack was so sure, and so powerful, she mistook it for James at first, but it was Newt. Tracey's entire being was in shock as the child spread her consciousness like a blanket. Her despair, her desire to end, even her sadness, was crushed under a mental grip that was beyond comprehension. Even as Tracey was restrained, Phoebe came in alongside Newt and began repairing the damage Tracey had done to herself.
Tracey gave up. Allowing herself to slip into the closest thing to sleep Travelers could attain. When she awoke, she was frustratingly whole, and Phoebe was firmly lodged in her head. She would not be able to escape a second time. She opened her awareness and found that she'd been extracted from her suit and placed onto a hospital bed. Her arms and legs were clamped in padded steel restraints. No one attempted to restrain her emotions then, rather she simply couldn't act on them. A tiny hand gripped hers. She turned to see Newt staring earnestly at her from a chair.
"Please stay," she whispered.
Guilt washed through her, cold as ice as she understood the damage she'd done by forcing this tiny person to step in and do what she should have had the strength to do on her own. She cried, and for the first time, it wasn't for James, but herself. She cried at her loss. At her lonely new reality. And she cried for Newt, the brave little girl she'd selfishly pulled into her misery.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed.
Newt shook her head, her face perfectly controlled. "Just stay."
Tracey nodded, but the tears didn't stop, even as her mind was freed, and the clamps were opened. Newt climbed onto the bed with her and clung to her fiercely, a hold Tracey returned. It could have been days they spent like that. Neither would tire. Neither would hunger or thirst. And something deep inside Tracey knew that this powerful little creature holding her, would flatly refuse to leave until she reached some semblance of 'okay'. So she tried. She fought with herself bitterly, and eventually, the tears subsided.
"I'm ready," she whispered.
"What?" Newt asked curiously.
Tracey just shook her head, and kissed the child on her hair. "Don't worry about it, baby."
She climbed off the cot and left Newt wondering behind her. Her mind stretched out tentatively to find Knox and Gordon.
"I'm ready," she repeated, the meaning of her words immediately apparent to them.
"Are you sure?" Knox replied immediately.
"I'm sure," Tracey confirmed.
Gordon's mind was grim. "I'll make the preparations. This isn't going to be a small event. Do you want a smaller service for those closest to him?"
"No. Everyone on that list has already paid their respects. I was the holdout."
"Okay," Gordon said in agreement. "It will take at least a week."
"That's fine," Tracey said. "I think I'll throw a party. For everyone he loved."
"That's a beautiful idea," Gordon replied. "I don't suppose I have the privilege of attending?"
"Of course you do!" Tracey replied indignantly.
The other two minds faded out as Tracey began planning her event. Some of Gordon's plan involved bringing certain individuals in on the Traveler secret. It would be necessary. James had numerous friends across both populations on board the station. The funeral service would need to be held for more than two hundred people. And more, his exploits regarding the reactor had made him a kind of celebrity. Even two years later, people would want to pay their respects. Two services would be held. First an open one, and then a more private one involving everyone who knew the secrets.
Tracey's party on the other hand, would be much smaller. Her description of the invite list was vague, but she intended to invite every person he'd held any kind of close friendship with, and more importantly, every person he'd personally fought and sacrificed to save. The survivors of the Sulaco would of course be included.
She navigated the halls to the Ichor's Flow. The bar keeper had been a friend to both her and James since before they joined the ranks of Travelers, and the bar was an obvious choice for the setting. He agreed fervently, saddened to learn of James' loss. Next, she brought herself to the Traveler side of the station. She was cutting into Gordon's preparations, but a quick conversation with him confirmed that he agreed with this idea. She approached a team of Engineer castes working on a Traveler cruiser.
"Do you all have a second?"
The four leapt down and waited for her explanation.
"I have a favor to ask of you."
"Of course," the foreman said, speaking aloud in respect of her greeting them that way.
"James' final service is in the planning stages. I'd like for him to be buried on board the Horizon. It doesn't need to be perfect. It just needs to fly one last time."
The foreman knelt and bowed their head. The other three copied the movement.
"We would be honored. It will be in perfect working order. The last flight of James Derringer will be onboard a perfect ship."
Tracey approached the Traveler and placed a hand on their chest. "Thank you."
She turned and left. There was a kind of freedom in her step. Each preparation she made, brought her closer to the acceptance and peace she'd only been pretending to embody for the past few weeks. Tears began to flow for a short time, as she went about her day, but not like before. Her grief was sharp, and painful, but not overwhelming. She would survive this, she saw then.
Ripley met her in her room, as she stared up at the ceiling. The other woman slid into the bed with her and draped an arm around her. The tears were still there, and occasionally, Tracey's breath shuddered, but she kept her composure.
"Are you sure?"
"I have to be sure, Rip. I can't keep doing this forever. I feel like I was breaking. And now, I've chosen to pick up the pieces I can, and build something new with them."
"But what if you were right? What if all you have to do is wait?"
"Then I'll wait another week. Gordon will be finished preparing by then. But I'm done with hope. It's done nothing but hurt me. If he comes back, I'll be endlessly grateful to whatever passes for a god in this universe, but I'm not going to wait for a miracle I know will never come."
"Yeah. Okay." Ripley pulled Tracey close, and they just enjoyed each other's company for as long as Tracey needed it. Newt joined them eventually, squeezing in between the two women, making them laugh softly.
Tracey felt yet more guilt as she noticed that Newt was uncharacteristically still. The girl brushed against her mind several times over the few hours they all lay together, but never initiated more than that surface level contact. She even stopped breathing at times, which made both women nervous despite the knowledge that she didn't need to breathe. They didn't comment however, maintaining the peace of the moment.
The day of the party came and Tracey was wearing a smile. A real, peaceful smile. Many of James' friends were her friends as well. It wasn't hard to quickly generate the kind of atmosphere she'd envisioned. The music was upbeat. The kind that made it difficult not to want to dance. And there was a lot of dancing. Tracey danced with everyone she could. Even Harold, who was beginning to show his age, did a few steps with her. Before long, she was laughing, but she was also crying, as story after story was exchanged. James hadn't been there long, but he'd had a lasting impact on every person standing in that room. Tracey absorbed these happy moments from the past eagerly. She was desperate to augment her own memories with those of others.
Newt was excitedly bouncing with her two new friends, Molly and Caily, who were by that point, as strong as she was. A few times, Ripley asked if they were being too open with their abilities, but Tracey insisted they be left alone. She didn't care much for secrets at a party where the only people getting truly drunk off the open bar were the people whose memories would be the most altered by it.
As the party drew to a close Tracey felt a glowing happiness. She understood finally that the two years she'd had with James were a gift. She would carry and cherish those memories forever. And she would find other happinesses. But a small part of her knew that even if she found another partner, and she didn't think she would, she would never love like she had with James. She wondered if that would make him sad, to know that she chose to be alone for the rest of her personal eternity. It wasn't so different from what he had done.
And so as her time with these friends met its end, she planned a journey for herself. She would return to Aegis IV and restore the home she shared with James. She would travel out from there, but return whenever she felt homesick. The idea was a comfort. She made a selfish choice then. The only one she allowed herself. She chose to keep the plans they'd had a secret. She chose to make the isolated world her own personal sanctuary. Gordon was resourceful. He'd find a different home for the Traveler's in time.
She spotted Newt afterwards. The twins had left with their parents, and the little girl sat alone, in a corner, her eyes closed, motionless. She had again ceased breathing. Tracey considered approaching, but something held her in place. Whatever Newt was going through, she would ask if she needed help, and she almost certainly didn't need it.
The next few days saw the final preparations of James' service. She checked in on the progress of the Horizon and was in tears as she saw what the master engineers had done. A team of more than twenty Travelers had poured their hearts and souls into the pristine ship before her. The black chitin looking metal had been polished to a shine. The interior had been scoured clean. The console, and all components had been repaired. They were in the process of installing a sophisticated auto navigation system that would keep the ship on a random, but ultimately endless voyage through the universe. It would refuel from nebulas, and take its single passenger on a tour that he would have appreciated, even in life. But the most touching thing they had done, was the alteration to the cockpit. It was an almost throne like structure, reclined back, and decorated richly with organic looking accents. It was perfect.
"You're not staying are you?" Luke asked as Tracey explained the next few phases of her plan for Angelichem. There were only two days left before the service began.
She paused, not having intended to divulge her plans to leave before the funeral. But finally, she shook her head and smiled a somber smile.
"His end was a sort of end for me too," she said. "It's time for me to go find some meaning in this universe. Some meaning that doesn't come from the closeness of another person. I can never let myself be that fragile again."
Luke nodded. "I'm not judging you Trace. I'm just gonna miss you terribly. Will you come to visit?"
"I'll be around Luke. It's not like we have a time limit. We'll live forever."
The accidental reveal to Luke motivated her to inform others.
"I won't pretend I'm happy about this," Ripley said. "But I get it. I need you to know that I'll miss you every second until you come back. And so will Newt, wherever she is."
"I've noticed she's a little off. Is she okay?"
"She says she is. But she won't tell me more than that. It's like she's focused so hard on something that she's abandoned living for the time being. Whatever it is, it must be important."
Tracey nodded. "I guess. How are things with you and Dwayne?"
Ripley sighed. "I don't know. He's always gone now. I can't blame him. He's a soldier through and through, but I want someone more consistent."
"That makes sense. Any word on Bishop?"
Another sigh. "He's still a mess. The engineers said they'll have to completely rebuild his neural matrix after all. It's the only way to keep his memory intact. The pod was a fucking liar."
"I'm honestly surprised you're so invested."
"He saved Newt, even as he was dying."
"He's not the only one," Tracey said evenly.
Ripley stared hesitantly. "Yeah. You're right. Are you really okay? You're not going to run off and jump in a black hole are you?"
Tracey shook her head. "No. I think James is already angry enough at me for trying the first time."
Ripley nodded. "For that matter, so am I."
"Would it help if I said I'm sorry?"
"No. I've already forgiven you. But you scared me."
"I know. I scared myself. That's why I'm leaving."
Harold's reaction, by contrast, was understated. He wished her well and gave her a hug. Gordon accepted her resignation with good grace, and thanked her for everything she'd done for the cause and the company. The ship he offered her was no small thing. It wasn't like the Horizon. It was built for a single Traveler, almost a space fighter rather than a true ship. But it was fast, and it would take her anywhere she could think of wanting to go. It was a generous gift, and Tracey accepted it gratefully.
The morning of the service, Tracey dressed for the occasion. Black was the norm, and she obliged, selecting a gown she'd never been brave enough to wear in public. She put on makeup, and earrings. She walked hand in hand with Newt and Ripley, the former of which seemed not entirely present, her eyes unfocused, as she more followed than really navigated the human halls of the station. They arrived in the presentation hall to find that nearly every single nonessential human person had chosen to attend. The Travelers who were present for this first half looked uncomfortable in human clothes, with the exception of the few that maintained regular contact with humanity. Gordon was wearing a sharp looking tuxedo, and took to the stand with a somber expression.
"Today, marks a loss," he began smoothly. "Doctor James Derringer represented a shining example of the kind of selfless heroism and forward thinking that humanity should strive for. It's no secret that just two years ago, he made the choice to save every person on this station, including myself, and at great cost of personal injury. His recovery from those injuries was the result of procedures that are unfortunately still a closely guarded secret. And they gave him another shot at life. He chose to spend the next two years of his life exploring the boundaries of our universe, and giving the gift of new technology, not only to this company, but also to humanity at large. James was a personal friend, as well as a valuable member of a team dedicated to our total betterment.
"In his final days, James made a repeat of the sacrifice he made two years ago. While on a well deserved vacation, he and his partner, Tracey Motai, encountered a distress signal. They made valiant efforts under dangerous conditions, and were successful in their attempts to rescue the survivors. Those survivors wished to remain anonymous, but they asked me to express their most sincere thanks. During the rescue, James suffered injuries that would ultimately mark the end of his incredible life. He was kept medically alive for several weeks using the best medical technology available, but it was a halflife. Nothing more than a pale imitation. One week ago, Tracey made the impossible decision to let him go. He was taken off life support, and allowed to pass peacefully into the next life. May he live on in our memories forever.
"I would now like to ask for a moment of silence. Pray if you wish."
Tracey was crying, which had mostly been the source of her decision not to give a speech herself. She was sure the emotions would destroy her peace of mind if she attempted to mask them. This memorial style service gave everyone a chance to pay their respects. But the real service would begin soon after. They all filed out of the hall, and those invited to the secret second ceremony, moved surreptitiously through the halls to points where they could access the Traveler section of the station.
The hangar was cleared of every ship except for three. The horizon stood gleaming in the center, and on either side, were a pair of escort fighters that would guide it out of the hangar and onto the first course of its final voyage. James lay in his suit on the deck. He was uncovered, as the next part of the ceremony required it. Tracey joined Gordon at the head of the crowd. He stepped forward.
"Most of you heard the official story and speech I gave for the benefit of those not yet able to hear the full truth. Most of what I said there was true, but it failed to paint a complete picture of the kind of man James truly was. The choice I offered him on his deathbed was a terrible one. He had already experienced true terror, and the salvation I offered him was near enough to it that he should have run screaming into his grave. But he didn't. He chose the path forward, disregarding his fears and focusing on progress.
"He could have chosen a selfish path after that. Taken his gift of immortality and ran. But he didn't. He brought his love, and his devotion into this life as well. Even while he spent his days loving his partner, he never stopped looking out for others. He brought four more into our midst. He gave two sick children a chance at a better life. And in his final days, he chose first to fight, and then to die, in the service of another child. His devotion to life itself, is nothing short of the very best of us."
Gordon turned and faced a group of seven suited, warrior caste Travelers, each holding a powerful plasma caster rifle. Knox stood with them.
"Commander."
Knox stepped forward and spoke both aloud and mentally.
"Firing party!" The group snapped to attention. "Ready!" They aimed down the length of the hangar toward the gravity shielded open door. "Fire!" Seven brilliant bolts of energy arched through the hangar. "Ready! Fire! Ready! Fire! Ready!" The line of soldiers pulled their weapons back against themselves. "At ease."
It was Tracey's que. It was good that she wore her own suit for this part, because she was bawling. She stepped forward, and lifted his body, suit and all, off the deck. She brought him up the Horizon's ramp, and into the ship. She gently placed him in the throne-like cockpit seat, and silently cried for as long as she could afford to. She placed a hand on his face and then returned the way she'd come. She took her place by Gordon again.
The hangar became the manifestation of noise, and three sets of engines spooled up and began to glow. The Horizon lifted off the ground along with its escorts, and shot from the hangar like a bullet from a gun.
No one noticed the tiny girl in the back as her face lit up in realization.
Credit for the Cover Art goes to my wonderful friend πΏπΎπππΎππ½.
This Chapter uses no generated content.
Story content for the early chapters written with the assistance of Chat GPT. Later chapters use less and less generated content. This story started as a kind of experiment. The results were good at first, but they began to drop off as the machine began to deviate further and further from my vision for this story. I'm sharing this information freely.