Work Text:
The future doesn't belong to the fainthearted; it belongs to the brave.
~Ronald Reagan
Franklin, Tennessee
February 23, 2142
11:21 PM
58 hours, 9 minutes to launch
Polaris.
Tyler ran his thumb over the nearly microscopic stenciling of his call sign on the little jet's 3D-printed fuselage. Six years later, his hands still trembled whenever he picked it up.
He could feel Katie—no, Kate's—eyes on him.
Not scornful or angry. They never were. Just sad.
“You can keep it.” Kate finally said.
Tyler shook his head in a slow, deliberate waggle and met her eyes.
“No. This is all we have of him. And when I leave…”
Kate frowned. “Don’t.”
“…it’s all you’ll have of both of us.”
She sobbed once and leaned into Martin, who pulled her close and rubbed her back. Tyler glanced at him apologetically, receiving a twitch of a half smile and a shake of the head for the troubles.
Martin had only been in Kate’s life for the past year, but he was a good guy. Maybe even better than Tyler.
In that “you didn't let your kid die” kinda way. At least he wasn't judgy about it.
“You don't have to go, right?” Martin asked. “You said that this is a voluntary mission. Couldn't you back out?”
Tyler looked back down at the little Starfire fighter in his hands, a complete replica of the one he used to fly. Even now, he felt the weight of everything he and that fighter saw and did.
“I could. But, then they’d have to find another poor Notso to take my place.”
“Notso?”
“First name,” Kate sniffled. “Last name: Bright.”
“Huh?” Martin had never been around aviators. “Oh. Oh… Gotcha.”
They shared a chuckle together before letting uncomfortably comfortable silence back into the room as Tyler looked at the couple.
Kate had found laughter again. Maybe not with him, not since…
Almost five years of crushing depression. The laugh had died at that moment. Their marriage seven months later. But with Martin. A whole year with Martin. That musical laughter had finally returned.
Tyler always loved the way she laughed. He still did.
But, it was too late for Katie and Tyler. They ran out of runway. It happens. And just in time for Kate and Martin where the runway was only just beginning. That was enough for Tyler.
When Tyler left in two days, at least one of them could be whole again.
Tyler looked back down at the Starfire and ran his thumb between the split-V tail and over the tiny bright yellow text, then gently closed his hand over it, then stood and pressed it into Kate’s hand.
“A boy will always need his mother.”
Tyler let the silence settle, then turned and clapped his hands together.
“And a man will always need a stiff drink. If I remember right, Martin, you were about to offer me a bourbon before all of this."
Music City Hyatt Imperial
Nashville, Tennessee
February 24, 2142
7:45 AM
49 hours, 45 minutes to launch
“…another autocab fatality occurred overnight in Downtown Nashville, marking the twelfth accident and second fatality for AutoMotīv's autonomous taxis since their inception in 2137. While AutoMotīv maintains its position that extremely potent thunderstorms and poor visibility led to the death of then-fifteen-year-old Cody Dunham while crossing the road to his home. Last night's accident shares none of—"
Tyler turned the TV off, then threw the remote into the bed’s collection of crumpled pillows with a disgusted grunt. He knew better than to watch anything on TV this close to the launch event.
I should have left the light on.
Tyler scowled at his reflection in the mirror, angry that he took the bait. Angry that it was true. Angrier because he was angry about something he couldn't control. Not then. Not now.
Tyler turned the faucet lever to the right and waited until the steam vanished to splash ice cold water onto his face.
"Chill out." He growled at the dripping, scowling man in the mirror. He glared at himself for another heartbeat, then sighed and turned the shower on. "Because mean mugging your reflection does wonders for the soul."
He paused as his slate rang.
"Don't do it, Ty."
The slate rang again.
"It's a trap."
Another ring. Tyler picked up the slate and keyed the Answer icon.
"Lemme guess," the voice purred. "You were doing the whole 'It's a trap' thing again."
"I was not, Tanya."
"Listen, Polaris. I've been your wing girl—"
"Man. Wingman."
"Do I look like a man?"
Tyler glanced down at his slate out of habit. "No."
"Then objection overruled. Where was I? I've been your wing girl long enough to know your default answers, Mr. North Star. I've been following that tight ass our entire career. I know when you're being you."
"Fine. Guilty."
"There," Tanya's tone softened. "Was that so hard?"
Tyler ran his hand through his hair, then stuck his hand into the stream of water to test the temperature, pulling back immediately as the water scalded his fingers.
"Wait. Are you in the shower?"
"No. Not yet. Don't get any ideas."
Tyler could hear the grin.
"You know..." Tanya purred again. "It is your last—"
"No, Tanya," Tyler objected, then softened. "It would only make me want to stay."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Only for the next person in line."
Tanya deflated. "She wouldn't mind if you made it worthwhile for her."
Tyler had to admit, Tanya's persistence had always been attractive.
"Well, Homewrecker, you're better at this ground control thing than I am. Too many buttons and switches makes my monkey brain spin."
"Homewrecker, huh?" Tanya's laugh sparkled across the speaker. "Haven't heard that one in, what? Eight years?"
Tyler tested the water again and nodded approvingly.
"Well, can't blame me. I didn't give you the call sign."
"But, you thought it. Everyone did. Even though I wasn't."
"No, you weren't, Tee-Wrecks."
The line fell silent for a heartbeat.
"Tell you what," Tanya said quietly. "I'll be passing through Nashville in a couple of hours. Go. Shower. Do your thing and give me a call when you're done."
"Tee..."
"Just a drink. One. Before we can't have one at all."
"Fine. Call you soon."
Tyler reached for the End icon and stopped as Tanya's grin drifted from the speaker again.
"And Polaris, definitely don't think of me in that shower."
Mt. Hope Cemetery
Franklin, Tennessee
February 24, 2142
10:03 AM
47 hours, 27 minutes to launch
Tyler listened to the wind rustle through the weeping willows that lined the cemetery grounds. He sat on the white stone bench opposite of Cody's headstone, head bowed. Somehow, this particular goodbye was the hardest. It wasn't like he hadn't already come to terms with Cody's absence.
Right?
Coming to terms. How does a parent really even come to terms with the loss of the one person that was meant to be everything that Tyler was, then become something even greater? Tyler hadn't accepted it, much less come to terms with it. The loss of his only son was like losing an arm or a leg, the phantom pain never quite fading as time moved on. Tyler didn't accept it, he only learned to live with it.
Fifteen years of combat duty was the only thing that kept him from falling apart like Katie—No. Kate.—did. She hadn't experienced loss, greater than the passing away of a cat, like this before. Both of her parents were still alive and well. Meanwhile, Tyler had watched half of his squadron get shot out of the sky over Seoul.
He couldn't blame her. He didn't. Not even through the worst of it.
Losing Cody shattered her.
A boy needs his mother.
"But, he always wants to be like his Dad," Kate had said before Tyler left.
Tyler looked down at the mission patch in his hands.
Spes Contra Omnia
"Before you figured out that I was a fighter jockey, you wanted to be an astronaut. Now I'm an astronaut, when all I wanted was to be your dad. Guess what, bud. Now you get to be an astronaut too."
Tyler traced the embroidered letters with his thumb, moving past the mission creed and the bold CHALLENGER lettering, then stopped at the brightest of three stars in the threaded constellation.
"We're going to Alpha Centauri, Cody. The same stars we watched every summer night. They're sending me there. They think there's a place that we could call home up there one day. Just like you always told me we would. Imagine me, just like Major West, up in space. Just without the Robinsons. Can you imagine that, son?"
He took a long breath, then let out in a long, strained exhale as he looked at Cody's forever grinning face on the white headstone.
"God, it's hard to believe that you would have been—you are twenty-one—already. This is a conversation we should be having over a beer. Father to son. While I'm up there, son. I need you to watch over Mom. Keep her safe until I can join you up there wherever you are. And do the job together."
Tyler slid off the bench and kneeled in front of Cody's headstone, then laid the patch over it as his breath hitched.
"You always looked up to me. Now I'm going to make you proud, son."
He hugged the headstone tightly and let the tears fall.
"Keep the lights on for me, Bud."
Music City Hyatt Imperial
Legends Rooftop Piano Lounge
Nashville, Tennessee
February 24, 2142
9:38 PM
35 hours, 52 minutes to launch
Hazel eyes sparkled over a crystal glencairn in the orange glow of the tabletop fire, lingering on Tyler as Tanya took a slow sip of the lounge's best bourbon.
Tyler always found her eyes fascinating, usually in private. But there was no denying that her childhood optical surgeon did a fantastic job of keeping them intact while giving her eyesight back. They were catlike in a way that made him want to look into them more.
Tyler looked at his glencairn, then sipped from it.
"I thought we were having a moment, Ty." Tanya purred, hiding her smiling ruby-tinted lips behind the glass. Tyler stole another glance at her, taking in the shimmering of the light in her auburn hair.
"You're dressed to kill for someone that just drove through three states, Tee."
"Oh, this?" Tanya lowered the glass, her eyes fixed on his, and gestured to her fitted black dress. "This is just how us girls drive across the country. Didn't you know?"
"And the baggy hoodie and pajama pants are for nights on the town, I suppose?"
"Naturally," Tanya leaned in. "But I usually forgo the pants. You really should see it sometime."
Tyler leaned in, taking the bait. Because why not?
"If it's halfway near as good as your driving dress..."
He reached out and gently brushed her hand with his fingers.
Something shifted in Tanya's expression. A subtle quiver in her smile, maybe. She laid the glass down and took his hand, holding it in her smaller, but long fingers. She looked at him for another long moment before her eyes fell to his hand.
"Twelve years, Tyler Dunham. I've been your wing girl for twelve years. You've been my best friend from the first day we met. My guiding star. Even after Seoul. Especially after Seoul."
She dabbed a tear away.
"I've never known what being truly alone felt like. You've always been here, and now I don't know what to do with knowing that you're leaving."
Tyler covered her hand with his other hand and found her eyes again.
"Hey, it'll—"
"Don't you dare," Tanya snapped, then bit her lip. "I'm sorry."
She stared into the flame.
"All I needed was three more weeks to heal. These damned eyes."
Tanya turned back to Tyler with glistening eyes. "It should have been me. Not you."
"Bad eyes or not, Tee. I wouldn't have let you go anyway. That's why I volunteered. I'm the better choice anyway; you still have a full life ahead of you. All I have are memories and a one-way ticket."
Tanya dabbed away another tear before an unexpected chuckle bubbled out.
"You're a jerk."
"The worst," Tyler agreed.
Tanya squeezed his hands and met his eyes again as the pianist took his seat and began to play a slow melody that swirled around them in the firelight. A handful of couples rose and wandered to the dance floor as the melody took shape into a dreamy rendition of Sleep Walk.
"Dance with me, Ty."
Tyler looked at the wobbling couples, trying not to blanch.
"C'mon, Polaris. I'm not above begging."
Tyler sighed, then stood, took Tanya's hand and led her to the center of the floor. Hazel eyes flashed again before disappearing as she laid her head on his shoulder. They swayed together to the slow, sad tune.
"Do you remember what I said when you found me in the wreckage?" Tanya asked in a small voice.
"Before or after the morphine?" Tyler grinned.
"Jerk."
"I believe it was to the effect of 'I love you'."
Tanya pressed herself into his arms.
"I never stopped."
"Tanya,I—"
"I could get a ticket and fly in..."
"I can't. I know what 'what if's' do to people, Tee. I can't do that to you."
Tanya stopped swaying.
"I've been living the what if since we met, Ty. From Day One. Either invite me down to your room or shoot me down and leave me here on the dance floor. It would end the question that I've lived with for twelve years. I can live with either, knowing if we did or didn't stand a chance. But, I can't let you leave me without knowing, Tyler Dunham. I know which I want you to choose, but it needs to be yours."
Tanya looked into Tyler's eyes and let her hand slide down his chest.
"No pressure."
Tyler looked into her expectant hazel eyes.
"United Flight 812. Book a ticket."
Tyler brushed a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and leaned in to kiss her, then pulled back gently. "In the morning."
John F. Kennedy Space Center
Merritt Island, Florida
February 25, 2142
4:56 PM
16 hours, 34 minutes to launch
"Ms. Townsend, why are you here? You're due at Mission Control in less than eight hours for final preparations to launch."
Dr. Victor Aiza stepped out of a hurrying technician's way, then rubbed at his temples as he frowned at Tanya and Tyler.
"Car trouble. Tee-Wrecks got stranded in Nashville." Tyler coughed as Tanya shifted slightly away from him.
Aiza looked down at the sudden gap, then back at Tanya, who was busy examining the workplace safety poster on the hallway wall.
"Luckily," the doctor sighed, "there is space for you on my flight to Houston. And, since fortune has brought you here, you may as well sit in on Mr. Dunham's brief. I'm going to assume that he would prefer your company for a little longer as it stands."
"Thank you, Director," Tanya stammered.
Aiza allowed a small smile, then turned toward his office.
"Don't bother hiding it. Letting the crew see you two is good for morale. Why else would we be reaching for the stars without hope, yes?"
Tyler offered his hand to Tanya with a shrug and a wry grin. She took it, then wrapped it around her waist instead.
"That's better. But do me a favor and walk slow, okay?"
The doctor waited patiently by his office door as the pair took their time, then pulled the door shut as they sat. He pulled his seat out, then decided better and sat in the oaken expanse of his desk. His hand found the scale model of the Challenger vessel, then held it with both hands to inspect its long, plated hexagonal hull.
"I wanted to speak to you about the ship," Aiza started, then handed the miniature Challenger to Tyler. "But, the two of you know far more about the way it behaves in reality than the Nova Galactic engineers that built it. You've both spent the better part of a year flying the Challenger to Mars, then Jupiter and back. No, I don't think we need to discuss the ship any longer."
Aiza smiled weakly.
"No. I should apologize to you both."
"Sir?" Tyler asked, looking up from the model ship, but was waved away by the Doctor.
"I knew you were a team. I should have seen this earlier, but I didn't. Not until Ms. Townsend's retina detached and you stepped in to fill her seat."
He ran his hand over his face, stopping as it passed through his graying hair.
"I should have seen it. And now, I'm separating the two of you just as soon as you've truly found each other. No, this won't do. We'll postpone the launch to give you time together—"
"That won't work, sir." Tanya cut in, squeezing Tyler's arm.
"She's right. Any longer and I won't be able to leave her. And I'm certainly not letting her go up first."
Tyler held the Challenger up.
"You were clear about the mission parameters: it's a one-way trip for the first pilot. No ifs or buts. I'm not letting Tee jump into the unknown without a ticket home."
Aiza bowed his head, letting his hand fall heavily to his lap.
"Are you absolutely certain?"
"Unequivocally."
"Then there's nothing more I can say that won't add to the burden you're taking on, other than thank you. Both of you."
***
Tanya laid her head on Tyler's lap as they watched the setting sun cast long golden rays over the shimmering waves. They had laughed over the cartoon chicken that was imprinted into the large beach blanket that a technician had let them borrow, but fell silent when the sun dipped below the horizon.
Tyler ran his fingers through her hair, filling his memory with the silkiness of the auburn and the hazel of her eyes. They were the only people in the world for this one perfect, fleeting moment. He leaned in and kissed her.
This moment. For all eternity.
A soft, chiming alarm broke the peace of the wind and the waves.
It was time to go.
ERV-03 Challenger
Lunar orbit
February 26, 2142
8:28 AM
2 minutes to launch
"Gravity Drive initialized. All checks completed. He3 tanks pressurized and stable. Life support, green. Reactor, green. Propulsion, green. Messenger probe, online and ready. Return-to-home failsafe active: 72-hour LOC protocol. All systems: nominal."
Tanya's voice echoed across the Challenger's bridge, occasionally distorting into a light digitized lilt.
"You're in the clear, Challenger. Commence Grav drive spool up in 10."
"Copy, Flight. Grav drive spool
up in... 5, 4, 3, 2... Spooling. Donning helmet, and pressurizing."
Tyler watched as his helmet's heads-up display flickered to life, filling his vision with an augmented reality view of the ship's controls. He pointed at the small screen that provided a view of the ground control center and flicked it into his AR view, then pinched and squeezed the video until Tanya filled his vision.
"You're beautiful, Flight. I'm sorry it took so long to say it."
The speakers crackled.
"You never needed to say it, Challenger. You always made me feel like I was. Even when you didn't know it."
He zoomed in on her smile.
"One minute, twenty seconds to jump." Tyler wished he could reach out and touch her.
"You should say something, Challenger. You're going where no man has gone before. The ground crew is expecting a speech."
Tyler groaned.
"Not Trek. Lost in Space was more my jam."
"Oh, c'mon. Say something."
He could hear the grin.
"For me."
"Fine." Tyler listened to the crackle for a heartbeat.
"I'm really not sure what to say here. Something moving, right? Isn't that what the famous people do when things like this happen? Instead, you're stuck with me for the next 90 seconds as I try to compress the sum of my life in less than a minute and a half. Sorry in advance.
Ah, what the hell...
Those movie stars make this sound so easy. But here. Now.
Staring out the window at the place I called home.
God...
They say you never miss something until it's gone. That's home. I'm missing it already. No, that's not right. I've been missing home for longer than anyone should.
It's like driving in the dark, knowing you're so close, but you can't see it because no one left the light on.
I know, I know. Not exactly the most inspirational thing to listen to, especially coming from some Notso Bright at the end of his runway.
Fine.
I'd say this was 'for all mankind,' but it's been taken, and I'd be lying.
This is for everyone that ever looked up...
For Cody.
Yeah. This is for you too.
To the next braver, beautiful soul that follows behind me. You're the reason I'm really going. Don't worry, I'll leave the light on for you.
Look at that. All systems green. Gravity drive complete. Ready in five.
This is Tyler Dunham. Signing off.
...and the monkey flips the switch. Cody always loved that li—"
[Signal lost]
"Godspeed, Polaris."
***
CLASSIFIED
DIRECTOR LEVEL ONLY
MISSION LOG
ERV Challenger 1
Dunham, T. (Captain)
Alpha Centauri (Rigil Kentaurus 3)
LAUNCH DATE: 2142-02-26
OBJECTIVE, PRIMARY: DETERMINE VIABILITY OF LONG-RANGE GRAVITIC DRIVE USAGE
OBJECTIVE, SECONDARY: ASCERTAIN VIABILITY OF EXTRA-SOLAR HABITABLE PLANETS
STATUS: SUCCESS/ALL METRICS MET
COMPLETION DATE: 2142-03-12
NOTES
The Challenger’s messenger probe re-entered Sol space on March 12, 2142, containing conclusive proof of the Challenger's successful completion of the grav jump and approximately 140 hours of video documentation of Alpha Centauri III.
Telemetry from the Challenger and its Grav Drive provided technical data that would ensure success on future jumps.
Video documentation, including aerial footage and handheld recordings, provided by Captain Dunham proved that Alpha Centauri was habitable and that extraterrestrial life existed.
A final handheld video of a yellow sun setting over a calm, blue ocean provided Captain Dunham's only spoken words since the Challenger left Sol.
"It's beautiful here, Tee. The light's on when you're ready."
Upon further review, the messenger drone was launched via failsafe trigger upon a 72 hour loss of contact with Captain Dunham.
Commander T. Townsend would eventually locate the abandoned Challenger on her fourth subsequent trip to Alpha Centauri III.
Captain Dunham was never recovered.
The details of the Challenger missions were never disclosed to the public.
END OF LOG
DESTROY UPON REVIEW
Per Aiza, V. (Director)
2160-09-08
**FILE PURGED**