PROLOGUE

  Journal Excerpts of Robert Marlow

  Jul. 23, 2090, A.D.

  It’s been a week since Dad died. He was testing a new return-entry vehicle for the ISS—something meant to help in emergencies. The heat shielding failed.

  A friend told me I should start a journal. Said it might help me get things out. I’m not sure if it’ll help, but here I am.

  Just last week, I was celebrating my graduation from Kent State—double Ph.D.s in Hydrology and Structural Geology. Mom and Dad were so proud.

  Now I can’t feel anything. I’ve gone from the highest point in my life to the lowest. My 24th birthday is coming up soon, but I don’t even care.

  Mom’s completely shut down. She won’t talk to me. Won’t talk to her friends either. I had to plan Dad’s funeral myself.

  I know she’s grieving, but she’s also angry at him—like it was his fault.

  I wish I could help her, but... I can’t even help myself.

  Sept. 21, 2090, A.D.

  Dad’s best friend from work, John, came by again today. He was Dad’s supervisor, but they were close. At the funeral, he told me he’d promised Dad that if anything ever happened, he’d look after Mom and me.

  So far, he’s kept that promise. He’s helped me handle a lot of things I didn’t expect to deal with this early in life.

  Mom’s still withdrawn. It’s like she disappeared inside herself.

  Today, John brought up a geology position at the I.S.E.A. He said I’d be the top candidate. I never really looked into the agency much before—just knew it stood for International Space Exploration Administration and that it was made up of several countries.

  I did some digging. Turns out they’re based at the old NASA headquarters in D.C., with launches from Cape Canaveral and mission control in Houston. John wants me to work at the D.C. office.

  Honestly...I’m intrigued.

  May 7, 2091 A.D.

  I went caving two weeks ago after a friend told me about a relatively unknown cave system in the woods near Cambridge, Massachusetts.

  I tripped over a rock formation—a stupid move. I broke some ribs and a leg. I also hit my head hard enough to give myself a concussion.

  I knew the footing was bad going in, and I took a risk. I paid for it.

  But here’s the weird part... I swear I saw something in there. Just for a second. A shadow—someone, or something. It startled me. That’s probably what made me lose my balance.

  I ended up at Massachusetts General Hospital. Not bad for my first major caving accident—though I could’ve done without the full injury package.

  The only silver lining? My doctor.

  Her name is Cora Hamilton. She’s 22, about 5’7”, and... wow. Long, silvery-blonde hair she keeps pulled back in a low ponytail. Hazel eyes that shift blue or brown depending on her mood. That smile could make the rest of the world disappear.

  She’s incredibly smart—rumor is she already has one degree from Harvard and is about to finish another. But she’s not arrogant at all. Just friendly. Warm.

  And that laugh—like the softest wind chimes on a summer day.

  Honestly? I think she likes me. I hope I get to ask her out once I’m back on my feet. I’d really like to see that hair down just once.

  Mom’s been all over me for getting hurt. She’s angry I took a risk. I think she’s just scared. Scared of losing me too.

  Aug. 10, 2091, A.D.

  What a week. Work has been busy, but—AWESOME NEWS!

  The gorgeous, incredible love of my life, Cora, just finished her second Ph.D. and said the University of Maryland offered her a position. That’s just 30 miles from where I work!

  She smiled when she told me we would no longer have to endure a long-distance relationship.

  What a fantastic day! I get to help her move in a week.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Neither of us can wait.

  So happy!

  Sept. 16, 2093, A.D.

  After months of dating and a yearlong engagement, I’m finally marrying my beloved Cora.

  I’ve studied myself in the mirror countless times and still don’t see what she finds so attractive in me. I have an oval face, average brown hair, a solid jaw, a little nose, dimpled cheeks, and blue-grey eyes. At 5’10” and with my stocky build, I’m not the traditional “tall, dark, and handsome” type—but at least I’m toned and muscular from rock climbing and cave adventures.

  I guess it must be my sparkling personality. Ha ha.

  Regardless, I can’t wait to see what she looks like in her dress. It’s an exhilarating day. She’s my whole world.

  She still worries sometimes. She can’t have children—there’s something with her hypothalamus misfiring and not triggering her pituitary gland. No hormones, no egg maturation.

  I keep telling her it’s okay. She’s stopped bringing it up, but I know she still thinks about it. I can tell.

  Whatever the future holds, she’s all I need. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.

  This is the best day of my life.

  I just hope Mom gets past her cold silence about Cora and eventually grows to love her as I do.

  When she was 14, Cora’s parents died instantly in a car crash—some idiot fell asleep at the wheel. Her grandparents raised her, and they loved her well, but she remembers a beautiful relationship with her mom. She’d love nothing more than to have that kind of bond with mine.

  Nov. 14, 2094, A.D.

  After talking it over with Cora, she felt we should try to adopt.

  I tried to tell her—again—that she doesn’t need to worry about it. That we’re enough. But I can see how deeply it weighs on her. It’s always there in her eyes, even when she pretends it’s not. So I agreed. We’ll look into adoption together.

  Honestly, I’m warming up to the idea. The sound of little feet pitter-pattering through the house in the morning? That kind of joy would be hard to beat.

  Of course, we know it won’t be all smiles and laughter. Raising a child is a huge responsibility. But we’ve got love, stability, and patience—and I know we’d be good parents.

  And maybe, just maybe, a grandchild would soften Mom’s heart toward Cora.

  I hate this divide between them. It breaks me that two of the people I love most can’t find common ground. Cora doesn’t know what else to try. I don’t either.

  Dec. 29, 2094, A.D.

  Heartbroken.

  We had an adoption lined up. One of Cora’s co-workers told her about a teenage girl named Jessica who was looking for someone to adopt her baby. We reached out, talked it over, and drew up an agreement to sign once the baby was born.

  We were assured she wasn’t ready to be a mom, so we waited—hopeful, nervous—for little Marie’s arrival.

  When she was born, we held her for hours. She was beautiful, perfect, and we instantly fell in love with her. But when it came time to sign the custody papers, Jessica couldn’t do it. She had fallen in love with Marie too, the moment she saw her.

  We tried to hold onto hope, to reason with her, but there was nothing we could do. The agreement wasn’t legal until it was signed. Verbal promises didn’t matter.

  Now we’re left with empty arms and broken hearts.

  We can’t go through this again.

  We’ve decided—we will remain childless.

  Mom, of course, blames Cora. Somehow, in her eyes, it’s all Cora’s fault. I don’t understand her hatred, her bitterness. It’s driving a wedge even deeper between us. And that... hurts more than I want to admit.

  Feb. 15, 2097, A.D.

  Yesterday was Valentine’s Day. Cora and I had a wonderful dinner.

  My mother came over, and I thought it was just to say hello and exchange Valentine’s wishes. But I was wrong.

  She verbally attacked Cora. She blames her for everything—including taking up too much of my time.

  I tried to reason with Mom. I told her Dad’s passing began the wedge between us, as we both grieved differently. It wasn’t Cora’s fault then, and it’s not her fault now.

  Cora and I are married. Of course we share everything and spend most of our time together.

  We’ve tried to include Mom in the past, but she always finds an excuse not to participate. I see now—she’s quietly blamed Cora this entire time for the distance between us.

  She won’t listen.

  I don’t want to lose my Mom… but Cora comes first.

  These constant arguments are wearing Cora down. She wants nothing more than for us to be loving and happy together. She’s tried everything she can to help Mom.

  Jun. 7, 2105 A.D.

  Time to put some distance between us and my mom.

  We’ve had a few happy moments, but she continues to direct her hatred at Cora—sometimes subtly, sometimes not. The fight she started with Cora last month was vicious. It was the last straw.

  I have to protect Cora.

  Work is looking for some geologists to volunteer for the next batch of colonists heading to Mars. I spoke with my supervisor, and he assured me it would be a huge bonus to have an additional doctor up there. The one currently stationed on Mars is already stretched thin and will be overwhelmed when the next wave of colonists arrives.

  Cora and I discussed it thoroughly. With no remaining family ties on her side, she’s determined to go wherever I go. I love that woman. She’s excited about the idea of Mars and sees how thrilled I am too.

  It’s also the one thing that will finally shut down the battle my mom seems so desperate to keep alive.

  Cora and I spent the weekend mulling it over. We’re in agreement—I’ll head to I.S.E.A. tomorrow to officially announce our intentions. Cora will inform the Chief of Medicine at the University of Maryland Medical Center and ask for flexibility in her schedule during the transition.

  We begin training in one week.

  Dec. 11, 2105, A.D.

  We lift off tomorrow—we’re so excited!

  Mom was enraged when we told her our plans, but she cried hard when she realized there was nothing she could do to stop our decision.

  We bought her a new Android model XT573 to keep her company and assist her. I promised to video chat with her as often as possible, which helped cheer her up.

  It’s the first time I’ve seen any kindness from her for either of us in such a long time.

  The research I did on her android suggests he’ll be an excellent companion for her—those units adapt to the emotional needs of their “companions.” It still feels strange sometimes, thinking a machine can love and be compassionate to a human being.

  She likes the droid, which helps ease our concerns. I’ve also arranged for a portion of my pay to go to her. Maybe she’ll use it for travel or something she enjoys.

  We can’t wait for tomorrow!