jeriendhal | Ficbit: Returned to Life

Since the Terinu forums are only semi-fuinctional right now, I'll just post this here for fokls to see.

Please excuse the lousy Latin. It's supposed to be "To the stars, through learning."

Note: Latin fixed courtesy of ndrosen.

The wind whipped around her as the morning sun slowly rose above the red dirt of the plain. She sat on her knees, wearing her school uniform. In front of her was a trophy, a small silver rocketship mounted on a pedestal, with a little plaque engraved with the words

Rachael Namatjira

United Nations Solar Scholar

2046

Ad Astra per Eruditionem

She knew where she was. Every Australian knew of this place, every Pitjantjatjara Aborigine held it in their heart. She was at the summit of Uluru, Ayer's Rock, standing alone, thrusting out from the flat plain, on the border between the Dream and reality.

“I was so proud of you when you won the scholarship,” her father said, kneeling down beside her. He wore his green BDU pants, a sleeveless t-shirt and leather sandals, like he always did on the rare weekends when he wasn't on the post's duty roster.

“You're not real,” she said softly, “You've been dead for four centuries.”

“Do you still remember me, Rachael?”

“Yes.” Her eyes began to well up with tears.

He smiled, white teeth framed by his salt & pepper beard. “Then I'm real.”

She fell into his arms then, sobbing. He just held her, singing a tuneless, comforting song, holding her close to him and patting her hair, just as he always had. He smelled of sweat, tobacco, and cheap aftershave. That familiar scent more than anything convinced her of his reality. “Everyone's gone, Dad,” she murmured into his shoulder. “Everybody's dead. Mark, Ari, you, Mum, Gran, everybody.”

“Yes,” he said, still holding her.

“Am I dead too? Can I be with you and Mum? Please, I'm all alone now. I don't know what to do, Dad. I don't know what to do. It's all gone wrong. The future wasn't supposed to be like this.”

“You're not dead, Rachael,” her father said, pushing her up so he could look into her eyes. “You're in the Dream.”

“There's no such thing, Dad,” she said, shaking her head. “Superstition. You didn't believe in when you were alive.”

“Yeah, well, that's when I was alive, little missy,” he said, grinning again. “Now you, you can stick with your numbers and formula and stress tolerances and circuitry diagrams if you like. They've done you good so far, and the Dream will still be here when you're ready for it. For now, you need to help out your friends.”

“Please, Dad, I don't want to go back. I want to be here with you.”

He stood up, pulling her to her feet. “Can't. Not yet.” He stepped back away from her. The wind picked up, and rusty dust devils began to swirl around him.

Rachael reached out towards him. “No! Dad! Don't go! Don't go!” She ran towards him, running off Uluru's edge, falling through the sky, falling through space, past dead Unity Station, past a broken stasis chamber, past a white starfighter patrolling through asteroids still, its pilot unaware that his friends had already been captured.

She landed on her knees on a cold, hard deck, her hands bound behind her. A prisoner. Alive. Alone.