Apollo Days
The 500th anniversary of the first moon landing brings human and post-human tourists from across the solar system. But one young man is looking beyond.
Short Story Winner of the Lunar Awards!
The site of the first Apollo landing was ringed with bubble domes. Curved mounds of water glass, they shielded the surface habitats from radiation and cold but still let in the lovely sunlight.
From a gallery near the roof of Tranquility Town Hall, Leonard Marangal stared down at the plaza below, swarming with excited crowds. With the opening ceremonies nearly over, the parade would soon begin. Sentient beings from all the rings of the system had come to Luna for the celebration. Apollo Days always drew large numbers of tourists, but this year was special—the 500th anniversary of the first human visit to another world.
Leonard had chosen this first day of the Festival to reveal the big news to his father. As usual, he had miscalculated. Perhaps he had hoped his father would be so preoccupied with his duties as Town Commissioner that the emotional impact would not sink in until later—even after Leonard’s departure. Or perhaps Leonard had hoped that the very theme of Apollo Days, the celebration of the human spirit of exploration and discovery, might help his father understand.
“Leonard, you cannot mean this,” Stevig said that morning over breakfast, his attitude one of incomprehension.
“But I do, father. The starship leaves Earth orbit in four days, and I intend to be onboard.”
Stevig stared down at his untouched bowl of fruit. Finally he said, “You know my views on this: transporting humans to other stars at this point in history is unnecessary and dangerous. There are more than adequate resources in the Sol system to support us.”
“There are now, yes. But in 2 or 300 years, at the present rates of consumption …”
Stevig knew the trends well enough. When humans were first spreading across the solar system, robot ships had been dispatched to explore nearby stars. Those voyages would take decades, or centuries. So it was with some surprise that just 11 years ago monumental news arrived back. A ship visiting the Procyon system had discovered a mineral-rich environment of planetoids in stable orbit. The machines had already begun building habitats. Back in the Sol system, construction began on a generation ship to transport colonists.
Leonard’s father spoke grudgingly. “I recognize the need for us to eventually spread to other stars, and I honor the courage of those willing to take the first voyages. But why you, Leonard? You have so much here to live for, such a promising future.”
The pain in his father’s voice made Leonard wince. Once he left, his father would be all alone. Leonard’s mother had died years ago of a medical anomaly. Later, his elder brother perished in a spacecraft accident. Leonard and his father had bonded over those tragedies, to a point. But there was always a distance, an aloofness in Stevig. Leonard never felt completely appreciated by his father, or completely understood. Still, as the sole surviving child, Leonard was heir to the family legacy, which Stevig had worked so hard to build.
“I know this is a blow to you, Father. I’m sorry. It’s hard to explain, but I just have this driving ambition to explore. And this is an opportunity that—”
“There is still plenty to pioneer right here in the system: the new colonies outside the plane, re-engineering like your cousin Trinella has—”
“But those things are already being done. The starship is a chance to do something no one has done before. Like those Apollo astronauts five centuries ago, we will be the first.”
“And that is so important to you?”
“Yes.”
Stevig stared at the table for a long moment. Then he rose and walked from the room without another word.
Now, from his spot in the gallery, Leonard could just see his father six stories below, dressed in formal attire, standing with other dignitaries as the parade began. Leonard could only hope that Stevig was too absorbed in his duties to fret over his son’s rash, perhaps selfish decision.
The parade was quite a spectacle, a celebration of all the life that had spread and transformed in the centuries since those first historical steps off-planet. Many in the crowd and in the parade itself were gaijinde, “improved” humans engineered for different environments. Others were biobots, with metal-carbon bodies and organic brains. From the remote rings came zuzhuang, pure robots, some independently conscious, others with group minds.
Accompanied by music from many worlds, the parade moved across the plaza, streamed up the avenue, and disappeared into a tunnel—heading for the next bubble dome. Groups from different worlds and settlements marched together: thin, long-limbed peoples from low-g habitats, winged folk from hollowed out asteroids, aquatics from flooded worlds moving in wheeled aquariums.
“There you are, little man!” A hand slapped Leonard’s back.
His cousin Jonah, large and jovial, held a beer in his hand. They had communicated earlier by ring computer and arranged to meet here.
Leonard returned the greeting, trying to smile. “How was the flight from Mars?”
“Oh, boring. Nothing like this.” He waved at the scene below. “This may be the best party yet. Did you know all the hotels and lodges are full as far as Mare Imbrium? Lucky me, to have relatives right here in Tranquility.”
He gripped Leonard’s shoulder, then pointed to a part of the parade just entering the plaza. “Look, butterflies! I wonder if Trinella is with them.”
Trinella was another cousin, Leonard’s childhood playmate. She had shocked the family months ago by announcing she was moving to Puloijo, a hollowed-out moonlet of Jupiter, home to a race of re-engineered butterfly people.
“I don’t know if she’s marching. But we are expecting her at the family dinner.”
“That’s great! I so admire her. Willing to push the boundaries. I’m thinking I should get re-engineered myself—into what I don’t know.” He gulped his beer. “We should all be more adventurous.”
Possibly a mistake, but Leonard decided to broach the subject. “So what do you think of the starship?”
“Oh, I think it’s grand. They visited Mars last year to recruit. Now they’re in Earth orbit. Supposed to depart in a few days, right? Do you think it will really happen this time?”
“I do.”
The mission had already been postponed twice, owing to engineering delays and to a disappointing lack of applicants willing to undertake the journey.
“They scheduled the initial burn to coincide with Apollo Landing Day,” Leonard said, then added: “You know, they still have open slots.”
Jonah looked startled, then laughed. “Whoa! I know I said adventurous, but let’s not be ridiculous.”
“Why is it ridiculous?”
“To spend 70 or 80 years traveling to another star, most of it in cryogenic sleep. Not knowing for sure what you’ll find when you get there. If you get there. Why would a sane person even consider it?”
Leonard stared down at the moving parade. “Yeah. That’s a good question.”
Leonard struggled with his decision over the next two days. While attending pageants, holodramas, concerts, he asked himself again and again if he really wanted to board the starship. True, he had signed a contract and given his word. But the embarrassment of backing out did not deter him. No, in the end he kept coming back to a single point—an inner thrill of excitement at the prospect of journeying to the stars, an inexplicable certainty that this was what he was meant to do.
He scarcely saw his father. When he did, it was always from afar, across a room or standing on a podium at some public event. Father never showed the slightest sign that he wanted to reopen their discussion.
This continued at the family reunion, two days before Leonard’s departure. All the relatives from across the system had now arrived, and Stevig hosted a dinner party to welcome them. Leonard moved from room to room, greeting people he barely remembered, some of whom he had never met. In his gloomy state of mind, the whole event seemed unreal, a bothersome dream.
When the music in the entry room stopped, interrupted by raised voices and laughter. Leonard walked to the doorway to see the cause. His cousin Trinella had arrived, accompanied by a robot attendant. While the robot held her cloak she stood posing for photos, showing off her butterfly wings. Broad membranes of yellow, with an intricate pattern of black diamonds and stripes, they rose in a curve above her shoulders and ended in points below her knees.
“Fly for us,” someone shouted. “Show us how you fly!”
Trinella demurred, explaining that she wasn’t strong enough yet to lift off in lunar gravity. “But you should see me in zero-g!”
Leonard turned and went back to the library. He hoped to visit with Trinella later in private, after the excitement of her appearance died down.
The opportunity came after dinner. Overwhelmed by all the socializing, Leonard had retreated to a balcony to be alone. From here he could see the black shadow of lunar night edged on the horizon. A crescent, mostly dark Earth hung in the opposite quarter of the sky.
“You seem depressed, cousin.”
Leonard turned to find Trinella at his elbow.
“Are you not enjoying the holidays?”
He gazed at her narrow face, powdered yellow, with black eyeliner and painted brows. The wings, matching yellow and black, rested close to her shoulders. She smiled kindly. However transformed, she was still his childhood friend and confidante.
“I’ll tell you something. But you must keep it secret.”
“All right.”
Leonard confessed his plans, and the torment he’d felt since disclosing them to his father. Trinella listened, lips parted, eyes soft with sympathy. After a long pause, she said:
“I understand how hard this is—I know for your father, too.”
Leonard lifted his shoulders. “I’m supposed to leave the day after tomorrow. And now, I don’t even know...”
She put a hand on his arm, set her other hand over her heart. “Of course. You’re deciding something for the rest of your life, and it’s irrevocable. I know how much I will miss you, and for your father it must be much worse. But, if you want my opinion, it’s this: I’ve known you all your life, and I believe you’ve always been looking for something, something grand to become.”
“Yeah. It’s like this deep core of me wants this.”
“Then I think you must go. Just as I had to transform myself. Why else are we alive except to manifest that inner self, to express the highest thing we can be? I think your father believes that too, and so, despite the pain, he will understand.”
The talk with Trinella sealed his decision, convinced him it was right. Next day, he skipped all the holiday events, spending most of the time alone in his room, packing, reviewing his plans for departure, meditating on it all. He needed to leave at 0500 standard time to catch a train for the spaceport. With that in mind, he intended to see his father before retiring that night, to say goodbye.
But when Leonard returned to his room after eating a light dinner, he found a recorded message. A holo of Stevig hovered above the floor, shimmering with silver light.
“My son, I know you are leaving in the morning. Please forgive me for not bidding you farewell in person. I decided this would be less painful for both of us. I wanted to say that, after speaking with Trinella, and doing a lot of thinking, I understand why you have made your decision. Also, that I admire you for it. Were I a younger person and less attached, I might even consider doing the same.” After a pause he went on “I have tried to be a good father to you. I know that I have succeeded in some ways, failed in others, as perhaps all humans do with what is most important. But let us at least part in peace and familial affection. I wish you a safe journey, and fulfillment of your dreams. Above all, know that I love and respect you. I could not have asked for a better son.”
At first, Leonard thought to wait outside Stevig’s chamber until he returned, so he could say farewell in person. But after watching the recording twice more, he decided he must respect his father’s wishes, and his grief.
When he had calmed enough, Leonard recorded a response. “Father, I thank you for your message. The truth is, I have questioned this decision repeatedly since telling you of it. I don’t know why I feel so strongly that I must make this voyage, except it is what my heart wants. And you have always taught me that, above all, one must be true to one’s inner self. The hardest thing is not leaving Luna, or my friends or life here. It is leaving you, knowing I will not see you again. Please know you have not failed me, not in any way. You have given me so much, your example as a brave, hard-working, and honorable man most of all. I hope I can honor your legacy by taking it to the stars.”
At 0500, Leonard rose from his bed, dressed and silently left his father’s mansion. Carrying a single pack, he marched along the tree-lined avenue. Lunar night had not yet reached Tranquility, and sunlight still illumined the bubble dome.
In a few minutes, he reached the tunnel leading to the next dome. There he descended an escalator to the underground. The maglev train arrived precisely on time, and Leonard rode in an empty car. He changed trains at Serenitatis station and within an hour reached the spaceport.
At the terminal he checked in for the shuttle. Surprised to find the place so empty, he inquired and was told three other passengers had already checked in for the flight to the starship. A moving walkway conveyed him down a long, dimly-lit tunnel. At end of the tunnel, in front of elevator doors, a man stood waiting.
“Father!”
Eyes, narrowed, Stevig smiled. “I … After seeing your response to my farewell, I couldn’t sleep. And, well, I had a change of heart.”
“You decided to come and say good-bye in person!”
“No, Leonard. I’m not here to say goodbye. I contacted the Starship Board and convinced them that, although an older man, I can still be a pioneer. I’m coming with you.”
I hope you enjoyed “Apollo Days.” Please feel free to comment and share. You might also enjoy these other speculative tales:
Great story! I like the use of Chinese for the “advanced” humans.
Very nice, Jack. Opening the thread and then closing it. Explicit and implicit world-building and written in an accessible but evocative style perfect for sci-fi.