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Compassionate release, they'd told me. Everyone on the Project demanded she be let out to retrieve the Beatles; after that, nobody could justify keeping her locked up. The Dutch government granted her a full pardon, and she essentially vanished. Not a word to the press or the public. She'd answer scientific and historical inquiry related to the Project, direct and to-the-point without an iota of subjective information; nothing else got a response. She bought a cottage in a remote Dutch village, whose residents had silently agreed never to address her past. Her neighbors knew her as quiet, but amicable.
I'm sitting alone in a nondescript meeting room in a hotel in Amsterdam, fiddling with the controls of the impressively advanced power chair I was immediately gifted on returning to Earth. It's nowhere near Eridian tech, but Earth's come a long way since I left. And my joints are rejoicing to be back in one G, anyway.
I requested the meeting as soon as I found out she was alive. (I was a little shocked to hear she was, honestly, but plenty of humans have lived longer than their late 80s.) Complete privacy, armed security, somewhere convenient for her, and only if she wanted to. I wouldn't have blamed her a bit for turning it down, but something in my gut had told me she'd agree.
A few minutes later, the door opens, and for the first time in over fifty Earth years, I lay eyes on Eva Stratt.
She's unmistakably the same woman, and has aged reasonably well, all things considered. Her hair is solid white, pulled into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She wears a cream-colored sweater and a long blue skirt. She leans heavily on a simple black cane as she walks into the room, but otherwise doesn't look injured or in ill health. One of the guards closes the door behind her, and she silently takes the seat across from me at the table.
We watch each other for a long moment, before I finally speak. "Congratulations. You saved the world."
"We saved the world." Her voice is higher than I remember it, and a bit creaky in that elderly way. But I figure mine's changed too. "Two worlds, in fact."
"So we did." I offer her a soft smile. She purses her lips, in the way she always did when anyone else would have smiled.
She nods gently. "Welcome home. I'm glad you're well."
"Does that soothe your conscience any?"
"Not a bit." I want to say good, but I decide it wouldn't help any. "How is life on Erid?"
I shrug. "I wouldn't really know. My biodome was as good as they could make it, but we never worked out a way for me to leave it. And it wouldn't have done much good, since there's no light. But the people are fantastic."
She does actually smile, then. "I'm sure you received a hero's welcome."
She's not wrong. I'm somewhere between Jesus and Elvis on Erid. "Yeah, they're pretty fond of me. Spent a whole lot of effort keeping me alive, if nothing else."
We fall silent for another long moment, and I'm about to ask something mundane about her life when she speaks again.
"Have you forgiven me?"
Hardball as always. I have to think on that one. There's a long moment that I consider lying, comforting a tortured old woman in her last years. But I know her well enough to know that she'd want the truth. "No. Not really." I push my glasses up my nose. "I understand. And I sympathize. Sympathize a lot. But not forgive, no."
She nods again. "Good."
I can't help an astonished little laugh. "Good?"
"Very good." Her eyes are as piercing as ever. "To forgive me… you would have to admit that your life was worth less than all those I stole yours to save. And I don't want you to believe that."
"Well, I don't." I fold my hands on the table. "I'm glad you're well, too."
Her eyebrows raise. "Is that so?"
"Sure." I smile—an honest one. "I don't have to forgive you to wish you well. You were a good friend for a long time."
Another moment of quiet, but it's more comfortable. She speaks again. "Do the Eridians know? That you didn't…"
"No. Well, Rocky does." I'd had a healthy handful of emotional breakdowns on the way back to Erid; that truth came out during one of them. "He kinda wanted to nuke Earth from orbit about it. I had to explain that it was one person's decision to talk him into coming at all."
"Does he know you're visiting me?"
"Heck no." We both smile. "He and Adrian are handling the press circus for today. I just told him I needed some alone time."
Her eyebrows raise. "Adrian?"
I hold up my hands. "Look, I needed an English word that meant 'Rocky's mate'. They know about it, it's fine."
She shakes her head. "Is it strange to say that I'm glad you have someone to hate me on your behalf?"
I chuckle. "A little. But I get it." I silently hope that she has someone who has forgiven her, for all of it. But I'm too afraid of the answer to ask.
Stratt's brow furrows. "What made you want to come home? After all this time?"
A question no one else would think to ask. If you thought I'd volunteered for the mission, coming home makes perfect sense. But she knows exactly why I might be reluctant.
"A lot of loneliness. There are so many Eridians I know and care about, but they're always on the other side of a wall. It's like having friends on the Internet, it's just not the same. And I just… wanted to see it all. The sunshine, birds, flowers. One more time."
"Before you die?"
I nod. "Pretty much. I wanted to die at home. No real idea how long that'll be. Time dilation is one thing, living on another planet is another… I've added and subtracted so many years that there's no telling. But I wanted to come while I was well enough to make the trip, and still have some time left once I got here. Rocky and Adrian insisted on coming, and they assembled a crew of younger scientists to come along. Once I'm gone, I'll be cremated, and half of my remains will go back to Erid with them."
She smiles gently. "That sounds like a pretty happy ending, all told."
"I guess so." It's as good as I could have hoped for. "They've asked me where I want to be buried here. Still haven't got an answer."
Stratt tilts her head. "There are a number of memorials to the two of you. And the U.S. would permit you burial in Arlington, I'm sure."
"No no no. Not Arlington. Nothing big. I don't want to be a—a holy relic for little scientists to make a pilgrimage to."
"Well, that will be hard to avoid. Perhaps you should be scattered at sea, then. You always did like the beach."
I look at her for a long moment. I can't recall if I ever told her that, or if she just picked it up. Either way, it's astounding that she remembers.
Then I remember why I can't recall telling her.
"As long as they don't put me back in orbit. Terra firma from here on out."
She huffs a little laugh. I look at the table. "I, uh. I didn't have any grand statement I wanted to make here. Nothing I desperately wanted to say to you, or anything like that. It just felt like the right thing to do."
"I understand. I appreciate it." She purses her lips. "I do actually have one. The one thing I always wanted to say to you."
I look back up, waiting.
"If there had been any other option, any other chance—I'd have taken it." She takes a slow breath. "I… am not sorry that I did it. But I am deeply sorry that I had to."
I sit with that for a moment. It's the closest thing to an apology I'll ever get.
"I understand. I believe you. And I appreciate that."
It's the closest thing to forgiveness she'll ever get.
I push back from the table and ease up to my feet—I can stand and walk, it's just a little painful, and humanity is handling me with kid gloves these days. "There's one more thing. One favor I'd like to ask, and you're free to say no."
Stratt looks surprised to see me stand. I gesture for her to do the same; she obligingly takes her cane and does so.
I slowly walk around the table, draw up to my full height, and hold out my arms.
She scoffs, and gives me an incredulous look.
"They're trying to get in touch with any of my old students who survived," I say quietly. "But you're the first person I've seen who I knew before. And all the human contact I've gotten so far is medical exams, and hearty handshakes from people I never heard of. "
It takes a moment, but a fond smile blossoms on her face.
"Eva." It's the first time I've ever used her given name. I gesture with my fingertips. "Bring it in."
She steps forward, wrapping her arms gently around my torso. I let mine settle around her shoulders, squeezing gently. She feels so small now, so frail—but I hold her as tightly as it feels safe to. It's probably the flood of oxytocin that makes my eyes prick slightly with tears, but whatever. We stand there for close to a minute before I finally let go.
I let out a breath. "I'll have them send contact information. You can reach out any time you feel like."
"I doubt I will. But thank you."
We exchange soft smiles. She gives a gentle parting nod, opens the door, and walks away.