There's a sort of visual distortion, like you would expect from something engaging a cloaking device in an old sci-fi movie. A ripple, a fading of color, and then nothing but stars where the Earth should be.
"Will it be fast?
Will they suffer?"
The Captain looks at me and bobs his main stalk, the
equivalent of a shrug. It's not
something that anyone cares about enough to put thought into. I won't care either, in a few hours. I head towards the medical bay for
decommission, my human body clumsy in passageways not built for people with two
legs. When I arrive another ambassador
is pacing back and forth; she looks at me, silently asking the obvious
question.
"Yes," I answer. "It's over."
She seems to deflate somewhat, all of the anxiety replaced
by weariness. "I can't wait to shed
this body. I don't want to think about
them anymore."
I nod. Part of me
wants to reach out and comfort her, but I feel self-conscious under the gaze of
the Captain's Guard that has followed me.
It's not standard protocol for us to be under observation, but there’s
nothing standard about this. We're not
supposed to assimilate this deeply, not supposed to be invested in what happens
to the planet we're sent to. Someone
miscalculated something I guess. So we
just stand there, avoiding eye contact.
After a few awkward minutes a chute opens up and the Captain's Guard
instructs us to discard our clothes.
"What about the others?" I ask. There's a pause, a sense of nervousness that
I wouldn't expect here on the ship. The
guard's stalks are swaying from side to side.
If he were a human he would be fidgeting and looking around like he was
preparing to run.
"They stayed behind, didn't they?"
The guard instructs me again to deposit my clothes in the
chute.
There's no reason why they couldn't have stayed. If they were careful, and waited until the
last minute, it wouldn't be hard to remove the transmitters. Painful, certainly, but not fatal - I picture
that empty patch of space where Earth had been and correct myself... not
directly fatal.
The other ambassador has dropped her clothing down the chute
and is looking at something. A
photograph of someone smiling on the beach.
I remove my own clothes and open my pod, but before I can climb in the
Guard stops me and points to my hand. Of
course. I carefully remove the simple
golden band from my finger and watch it tumble over and over as it bounces away
out of sight. The photograph flutters
after it. We both situate ourselves in
the pods and finally I give in, casting a smile in her direction as the lids
reach out to cover us. She gives me a
pleading look and barely manages to get a question out before the lids seal and
I'm plunged into a silent world of white.
"It had to be done, right?" She had asked. The question echoes in my mind, and there's
no reply. Nothing I could have said even
if she was still able to hear me. A hum
starts all around me and I know that in a few moments the answer will be
provided to both of us.
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