Finding my mother should be easy. It isn't. Her hologram is everywhere and nowhere. I see it across the room, run to it. She's gone. She appears again, in the garden, but fades away by the time I get there. I've entered an illusionary game of cat and mouse. My chase takes me through the party. Perhaps that's my mother's intent, to ensure that I see everyone. That I'm seen by everyone. That I embrace my social duties properly for a first and last time. My mother takes these things seriously.
I play the good host for her. I joke. Patch. Promise to send vids from my training. I stay cheerful. It's hard. People don't want to know about the war. They prefer to think of it as distant, unrelated to their lives. Or not think of it at all. I'm an unpleasant reminder that the universe is hostile. That humanity needs talons as well as brains. Most don't understand my choice to join. Let someone else do it, they suggest. I try not to roll my eyes as people call me naive, or ask me to kill an alien for them, or request souvenirs, or tell me the Ouranos is an Avari invention to scare Earth into providing soldiers. I've heard it all before. I've heard far worse. It's easy to ignore.
These are the people I'm signing up to protect. I love each of them, even the idiots. I keep moving, intent on seeing everyone I can.
I agree with an aunt that I'll miss Earth. I disagree with an old school friend that I'm making a mistake. I repeat the same conversations with family friends, an uncle, university tutors, a work colleague, my father's old racing manager. The same questions, the same attitudes, the same answers. Patches help: I use Relax, Tipsy, a double dose of Social. Daze for the more difficult conversations. The night passes in a blur of talk, well‑wishes, patches. Sam returns from talking to my uncle's girlfriend, defeated. It's probably for the best. He moves on to one of my cousins. I laugh. Sam is resilient.
I still haven't seen my mother. Eventually I give up on chasing her hologram. I take the elevator to the third floor, her personal study. She never attends a party in person, not even her own. She prefers to spread her holograms across multiple conversations. I knock on the door to her study, enter it. It's a large room. Grass instead of carpet. Walls covered in tiny flowers that fill the air with soft perfume. Water cascades into a shallow pool.
There are two chairs in the middle of the room. Between them is a small table covered in Champagne patches. My mother is sitting, waiting for me. She puts her datapad down as I enter.
"Hello," she says.
We hug, hold each other for a long time. It's better than the Bliss, better than holograms. I release my mother. She has a few tears on her cheek. She brushes them away and we sit.
"It's a great party," I tell her. "I really like the—"
"Do you have to go?" she asks. "Can't they find someone else? You could stay with us; you could get your old job back. You liked that, didn't you?"
I sigh. My mother was pleased when I landed work for our local hospital, analyzing scans and programing medical bloodcrawlers. The work was fine, but temporary. Something to keep me busy until my real life started.
"I had hoped this was a phase," she continues. "Running around with guns, wanting to be a soldier. A soldier, of all things! I hoped you would grow out of it."
I never did. The Ouranos made sure of that.
"Is this because that girl Streela broke up with you?" my mother asks suddenly. "I never liked her, you know."
"No," I say patiently. "And I broke up with her, remember?"
That's a lie, but I have my pride. I loved Streela from the moment I saw her. She never reciprocated during our year together. Never came close. I learned that the hard way in the end. So it goes. It never would have lasted after I joined the infantry, anyway.
My mother frowns.
"She treated you very badly, you know. It was good she broke up with you, but it doesn't mean you have to leave."
"I broke up with her. I—"
"Stay. There's a lot of good you can do without leaving the city. You can help people and still be safe and close," she says.
An old argument, familiar and tired, brought out one last time. It won't work. I don't want to be safe.
My mother sees my expression. She takes patch of Champagne off the table and places it on her arm.
"You were always a strange child," she says. "I remember how you used to climb that wretched tree. I thought my nerves would snap when I saw you up there."
I'm surprised. My mother is more observant than I realized.
"But you never fell," she says. "So at least that's something."
We talk a little more. About the past, about me as a child. Stories that leave us both laughing, both crying. She uses Champagne patches sparingly. She offers me a couple. It helps. She wishes I were a child again, at home. I don't. It's the age‑old conflict between parent and child.
After an hour she stands.
"It's time for your farewell speech. Now give me a last hug, and I'll meet you down there."
I walk down to the garden, toward the stage set up for me. My mother's hologram is already there, talking to the crowd. There's a sea of faces before me. More people than I've ever addressed. I freeze in place, my heart beating fast, as if I have three patches of Espresso on my neck. I might pass out. Sam arrives at my side. He's carrying two patches of Courage.
"Keep it short and sweet," he says.
I slap both patches on my neck. They kick in right away.
"Thanks," I say.
I jump onto the stage to a few cheers, some applause. I look out over the sea of faces. I love them. I'll miss them.
"Thank you all for coming," I say. "It means a lot to me. I'll remember you when I'm out among the stars—"
"Killing aliens!" my uncle shouts from the back of the crowd.
This earns him a few cheers. A few groans.
"No, that's not right, we're more of a peacekeeping …" I try but stop.
This isn't the time. Sam is motioning for me to wrap it up. Short and sweet. Right.
"Whether you agree with my choices or not, I want to thank you all for being here and seeing me one last time before—"
"Before you die!" someone shouts.
Sam boos the interruption.
"Before I ship out. I'll be back in four years, so until then …" I don't know what else to say. The Courage is fading fast. I struggle on. "Until then, look after each other."
A lame ending, but at least its over.
I jump off the stage. People cheer or clap. Sam hugs me. Music plays. People dance. My parents' holograms waltz through the air above me. Sam and my cousin are leaning against the tree. He smiles, she laughs. This isn't a farewell party, anymore. Just a party. I should stay. Have fun.
But this is my old life, and its moved on without me. I no longer belong here, or at my apartment. And I don't yet belong to the Interstellar Infantry. For one night, I'm caught between worlds.
I'm free. Lost. Restless. I leave the party, head out into the city one last time.
Which is how I meet Janus.