Year's Best SF 17

Beatrix and Ambus went to take a seat but couldn’t do so because of their physical condition.

“It’s kind of you to come,” Ambus said. “I know how much Bea wanted to see you.” From the way he smiled and bowed his head, he clearly had no suppressant in his system.

“Oh, Beatrix,” Cara said. “Bea …”

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Ambus said. “How have you been? How are your parents?”

She told them about her mother’s death, about her father joining the expedition to Langalana. And as they conversed, Cara noticed that only Ambus spoke. She gazed directly into Beatrix’s eyes and tried speaking only to her. “Do you remember the seasons we spent diving off the shore of Ontario Lacus? We practically covered ourselves head to toe with perpuffers.”

A brief smile flashed across Beatrix’s face. Then it went blank again.

“Yes, those are strong memories, Cara,” Ambus said. “She’ll remember them right up to the point of encorporation. After that, it’s even possible I may still retain a stray experience, a random memory, but I can’t guarantee any particular one will survive.”

Cara placed her hands over Beatrix’s. “Hey, Bea. Are you in there?”

“She’s in there,” Ambus answered. “Fully cognizant of everything you say.”

“Can’t she answer me?”

“I speak for her now.”

Cara paused.

“So will there be nothing left of her?”

“Of course!” Ambus said. “Her knowledge of nanotech, her facility with plants, a few random experiences. Her most useful skills will survive encorporation, creating a new me.”

“What about her dreams, Ambus?” Cara’s voice trembled. “What about her dreams of exploring the universe?”

He paused. “I’ve come to like it here on Titan, Cara. I can’t say …”

Juan Carlos shot her a look and glanced dramatically at his watch.

“Bea, honey,” Cara said, patting her hand. “I have to go, I’m sorry. Juan Carlos needs to be somewhere right now and I promised I’d accompany him.”

“That’s fine,” Ambus answered. “But Cara, you have to promise you’ll come visit again soon. Beatrix would love to see you again before encorporation is complete.”

Beatrix’s eyes remained rolled back in her head and a bit of clear drool oozed out of the corner of her mouth. Cara couldn’t bear to see her like this. But she would never abandon her friend in the final moments of her life.

“Of course I’ll be back, Bea.” She leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “We’ll go to the lake again and you can sit on the shore and watch while I dive for perpuffers for us, okay?” She felt the tears well up and fought them back.

“Cara,” Juan Carlos said softly. “We should get going.”

She took a deep breath and waved goodbye to her friend, wondering how much of her would remain when next they met.

ENCRYPTED Med. Journal Entry No. 228 by Dr Juan Carlos Barbarón: Cutting the tether of mated Wergens results in an instantaneous loss of identity, followed by a rapid and painful death.The smog that blanketed Titan was thinner than usual on this day. So much so that Cara could almost make out the outline of ringed Saturn filling half the sky. In all of her years of living on Titan this was the first time she’d ever seen the planet with her naked eye. Its proximity caused the tidal winds that drove down from the poles towards the equator.

She felt awkward visiting Beatrix’s hearth. So much time had passed that her friend was certainly long gone by now. Damn Juan Carlos. She would never forgive herself for allowing him to keep her away all this time. She had made a promise and she would keep it. If nothing else, she owed it to Beatrix’s memory.

As she followed the winding trail down a steep hill toward the familiar hearth, she slowed down. What if encorporation wasn’t complete? What if pieces of Bea were still visible? She imagined the segments of an arm jutting out of Ambus’s chest, two half-heads merged together into a disfigured monstrosity. She wouldn’t be able to bear the sight of it.

No, more than a year had passed. She began walking again.

When she got within twenty feet of the hearth, four Wergen children raced out through the archway in her direction. They ran in circles around her, saying “Good morning” and “Can we help you?” over and over.

She stooped down. “Are you Beatrix’s children?”

One of the thicker, squatter females said, “My name is Antillia. Ambus is our father.”

“Is he inside?”

The children nodded excitedly and followed close behind her.

When she entered the hearth’s archway, Ambus stood there as if expecting her, even after all this time.

“I knew you would come,” Ambus said. There was no longer any sign of the Ambus she remembered, the Wergen who spurned all contact with humanity. He threw his arms around her and she hugged him back. He looked different. Thinner. And his scales had familiar flicks of silver.

He guided her into the fireroom, where a transparent tube that ran from floor to ceiling blazed with flames. “Your children are beautiful, Ambus,” she said.

The Wergen children tittered and whispered to each other.