Fallen Heroes Part II Chapter II
Posted: Fri Apr 27, 2018 10:40 pm
Here is the newest chapter of the Fallen Heroes story. Like Chapter I, this chapter will be uploaded in four parts, with a new part each Friday.
And in case you're wondering: there are six chapters in total
===============================================================================================================================================================
Fallen Heroes Part II Chapter IIa
Earth, San Francisco – July 1, 2380 – Stardate 57498.6
From the moment the sun began its early-morning reign, there hasn’t been a cloud in sight. In a few hours, the sun will ring the curtain down on another well-received performance and disappear behind the horizon. Until then, everyone in and out of the city can revel in the comfort of a warm summer’s day.
Lieutenant Ralph Blue has been working in the garden all day, yet he’s reluctant to quit. His endearingly archaic cottage on the outskirts of San Francisco is surrounded by a large garden, which requires frequent maintenance. That’s no issue for Ralph, who can be found tending his box trees whenever his busy work schedule in Starfleet’s science division allows him the opportunity.
In his late forties, the lieutenant is an attractive man. His well-preserved looks and natural charm, complemented by his laugh lines, give him every ingredient to be a typical ladies’ man. However, after his wife left him when their only son was ten years old, his appetite for romance faded. Self-blame and regret formed a bitter cocktail preventing him from opening up to anyone new. Instead, he focused on being a good parent, until the Borg cut those efforts short. Following his assimilation into the Borg Collective and his subsequent rescue at the hands of his son, who left shortly thereafter, he embraces these instances of solitude to reflect on his life. On a day like this, there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s on the right track.
So here the off-duty lieutenant is trying his best to turn a box tree into a perfect globe while occasionally throwing a glance at the city of San Francisco, which lies gleaming in the evening sun. He has no regret whatsoever for moving to this house on this hill with its bright green grass and fertile soil. Having lived here for almost two years now, he is yet to grow tired of the scenery, so he glimpses at the city once more, only to discover that a figure has emerged at the far end of the garden.
“Dad?” the figure says.
Ralph responds by cutting his award-winning box tree neatly in half. Oblivious to his act of tree mutilation, he drops his gardening tools and slowly rises to his feet, squinting at the silhouette. Could it be… “Tony?” he says, staggering toward the figure. Once he’s close enough to recognize his son, Ralph breaks into a run, aching muscles or not.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t—” Tony says, unable to finish his sentence because Ralph hugs him so thoroughly he’s lifted off the ground.
To Ralph’s surprise, his son winces in pain, prompting Ralph to let go and step back. Though this shouldn’t be, the young commander appears weak and disheveled. Granted, his wearing civilian clothing instead of a pristine Starfleet uniform might detract from his usual confident aspect, and it has been a year since Ralph has last seen him, but he knows his son well enough to sense his misery. “You’re not a Q anymore.”
Arms hanging by his sides, Tony stares at the grass. “Is it that obvious?”
“Is this why you’ve come back?”
Tony struggles to come up with a proper answer. “I… I just wanted to say hello,” he says, trying to sound indifferent and failing. “And I was hoping we could talk.”
“I must say I did not expect this sudden visit,” Ralph says in a serious tone.
Tony opens his mouth, yet words elude him.
“But you know you’re always welcome here.” The affectionate warmth in Ralph’s voice should alleviate any lingering feelings of guilt. “Stay here as long as you like or as long as Starfleet will let you stay.”
This marks the first time since last year that he sees Tony smile.
“You know your way around the house,” Ralph says as he guides his son to their home. While they’re traversing the stone path leading to the front door, he notices Tony is limping. He decides not to mention it. It can wait. Right now, he is content knowing his son has returned. “Your bedroom is still in the same place. I figured you’d be back one day.”
From the corner of his eye, he spots another figure in the garden: a brown-haired woman roughly the same age as Tony. He gives Tony an inquiring look. “Who is she?”
Tony responds with a brief eruption of incoherent stammering. That’s not working, so after a second of contemplation, he levels his gaze at his dad and says, “Umm… can we keep her?”
* * *
Night has fallen over the Pacific Coast. Tony has grabbed a hideous, yellow lawn chair and placed it smack-dab in the middle of the garden, facing a beautiful panorama of San Francisco and all its colorful city lights. The night sky is free of clouds and would be empty and peaceful were it not for the steady streams of air trams, city hoppers, and shuttles crisscrossing the Bay Area like organized fireflies. They carry on as if nothing has changed and nothing ever will, as if the Station A-12 Debacle never took place. He could almost trick himself into believing that—almost. Sitting there, alone with his thoughts, he cannot escape that gnawing feeling one gets after returning from a long vacation: as if one never left to begin with.
His father, carrying an equally hideous lawn chair, walks up to him and seats himself next to his son. “That Emily sure is a sweet girl,” he says. “I can tell she’s feeling at home already. She has customized the guest room to suit her wishes and made an inventory of everything we have and should have.”
“Yeah, she’s like that,” Tony says with a subdued smile. “We’d better get used to it.”
“With her steadfast and strong-willed personality, she reminds me a bit of Sally.”
Tony’s subtle smile turns into a joyless grin. “Let’s hope Emily possesses the loyalty Mom lacked.”
Ralph clears his throat before asking cautiously, “While you were out there, did you reestablish contact with your mother?”
“No. I haven’t spoken with her since she left us.” Tony rubs his jaw. “To tell you the truth, with the way it all went down, how she abandoned us, I don’t ever want to see her again.”
“Neither do I,” Ralph says, though he doesn’t sound convincing.
With that touchy subject out of the way, they silently enjoy the soft weather and take in the splendid view. Minutes drift by like the maundering petals of the lone cherry blossom tree standing proudly at the edge of the garden.
“I’ve really missed this,” Tony says. “It’s different when you’re human. Cool breeze on my skin, air filling my lungs, a real heart pumping blood through my veins, being restricted to one time and place, watching stars that were once my domain. It is humbling to realize how incredibly weak and small I have become.” He catches himself speaking with sudden contempt. “Sorry…”
“It’s okay, son.” Ralph hesitates before continuing. “Emily told me a few things about what you went through at Station A-12, what you did and sacrificed. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you, what storm is raging in your head. I’d like to, but I can’t.”
“That’s all right. I can’t imagine how I feel either,” Tony says with a wry smirk. “My current strategy is to try not to think about it too much. I’ll deal with it when I must. It will take time, good old-fashioned linear time.” He wishes he had a beverage with him. That last sentence would have warranted taking a swig and looking pensively into the distance.
“You’ve changed.”
Tony nods, trying to appear stolid while suppressing a brief, unannounced pang of remorse.
“Standing up against the Q Continuum, choosing a side and facing the harsh consequences. You knew what you were giving up.”
“But was it worth it?” Tony asks, no longer pretending to be indifferent. “Most of my friends are dead; I couldn’t prevent that from happening. Got myself scarred for life in the process. I did what I thought was right, but I’m starting to believe I’ve made a horrible mistake.”
“No, you made a conscious decision to be there for your friends when they needed you most, and to be here and fight with us, potentially helping billions of people. The Continuum wouldn’t let you, but you did it anyway. How can that be the wrong call?”
An ironic sort of smile contorts Tony’s lips. “I guess becoming a Q has changed me in more ways than I realized, hasn’t it?”
Ralph no doubt intends to encourage him, yet it comes out as a feeble afterthought when he says, “Hey, you do with your life whatever you want.”
Tony sighs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Their conversation falls silent again as Tony takes a deep breath of pleasant night air and stares at the distant skyscrapers, tiny pins of light shining from their windows, creating a star field of their own. It takes him a while to muster the courage to say what needs to be said. “I’m sorry, Dad, for leaving you here. I shouldn’t have neglected you the way I did… You didn’t deserve that.”
Ralph knows a sincere apology when he hears one. He puts an arm around Tony and shakes him about playfully. “Well, you’re back now, aren’t you?”
“Phaser scar, Dad. Phaser scar,” Tony groans.
This father-son “quality time” moment suddenly gets interrupted by Emily shouting from inside the house, “Guys, you might want to see this!”
* * *
Ralph, Emily, and Tony sit together on a big sofa in the living room, watching the news on a holographic screen concealing the fireplace when activated. This technology is similar to the viewscreen used aboard the Achilles, albeit simplified and made suitable for domestic use. None of that matters to the three off-duty officers, for the news broadcast has captured their unbridled attention.
A holographic representation of a reporter—an attractive woman in her late twenties—addresses them while the Federation and Altonoid flags hover behind her. “—after claiming they have annexed Loïdian space. Ever since Starfleet made first contact with the Altonoids, three years ago, the Altonoids have treated us with unwavering paranoia and hostility, culminating in several armed conflicts. Regardless, we never gave up protecting the fragile peace between us and the Alto Empire. Last week’s forceful takeover of Station A-12, which cost thousands of lives—”
A stock holophoto of Station A-12 appears on screen. Emily finds it distressing to be confronted with this image, a blatant reminder akin to a sudden punch in the gut. Her wounds are all too fresh. She won’t soon forget the macabre sight of the dead USS Wolf clutching the defeated station. That was the exact moment she fully understood the true extent of the tragedy she had witnessed and that the Altonoids’ victory was irrevocable.
Luckily, the reporter comes into view again. “This relative peace was left hanging by a thread by what many considered an act of war. Our best diplomats have deployed a wide array of tactics to secure peace through negotiations, but the Altonoids were, simply put, ‘unwilling to listen,’ according to a Federation spokesperson.”
She pauses for a few seconds, looking billions of viewers across 8,000 light-years of Federation space in the eyes. “The Alto Empire has declared war on us. The major forces of the Alpha and Beta Quadrant, among them the Klingons and the Romulans, have stated they will remain neutral during this conflict, for this is ‘a dispute between the Federation and the Altonoids.’ Because none of the governments sees any reason or indication that the Altonoids might attack them as well in the near future, the Federation is on its own for now.”
Tony is getting paler by degrees while staring through the viewscreen, and his father shares his silence. Emily can’t believe this is happening. It’s as if she’s in one of those dime-a-dozen disaster holodeck programs or experiencing a bad dream. Sadly enough, there’s no waking up from this. She was in her mid-teens when she watched a disturbingly similar news report announcing the Dominion War. That one proved to be only too real.
The reporter keeps spewing cold fact after fact. “Starfleet is already sending fleets to the Altonoid and former Loïdian borders. Additional military information is not available at present. However, we can be sure that Starfleet will do everything in its power to defend the citizens of the Federation from these aggressors.”
Emily turns to Tony, perhaps hoping to find solace, but he is no longer by her side. Looking around, she catches but a glimpse of Tony walking out the front door. His father hurries after him.
* * *
With unfocused eyes, Tony stares at the stars dotting the night sky in deceptive serenity. It’s hard to take that a war is being prepared somewhere out there—a war he could not prevent.
Footfalls in the grass alert him of his father’s approach. “I knew this would happen,” Tony says to him. “Everything is spiraling out of control the way I foresaw when I was a Q. I know what’s going to happen next. I know where this will lead us. It is what shaped my decision to assist the Federation.”
His dad cannot offer a response to that.
“I don’t… I don’t know the specifics,” Tony continues. “I no longer understand the intricacies of time; details of future events have blurred into a vague mess, yet I can say with absolute certainty that we have great reason for concern.”
Emily walks up to father and son with her arms crossed in a worried self-hug. “But I heard you say you know what’s going to happen.”
“I know we’re going to lose,” Tony says grimly.
“Don’t say that.” Ralph puts a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m neither an expert on temporal mechanics nor can I comprehend how the Q perceive time, but I do know one simple truth: the future hasn’t been written yet. Already your actions must have influenced what you believed to be the future. Could that be why the specifics of this upcoming war have become hazy?”
Tony remains silent as he gently removes himself from his father’s grasp to step forward. He keeps listening, though.
“We’re all afraid of the future,” Ralph says. “Everyone is, especially now.”
“But we know there’s always hope,” Emily cuts in. “We may not be omnipotent, but we can make our little differences each day and hope for the best.”
Tony’s gaze is fixed on the heavens, yet he knows she’s smiling right now, for his sake. “I suppose you’re right.” He turns to face his father and Emily, and indeed, her encouraging smile does not disappoint. “Now I have you two. I couldn’t have predicted that.”
“Exactly!” Ralph says. “Who knows what other great things await us?” He lets the notion sink in for a few seconds. “Or we could all be dead by next week,” he continues in the same optimistic tone of voice.
A beat of shocked silence.
Then everyone bursts out with laughter, and they go back into the house, leaving the radiant field of stars to watch over this tiny blue planet, as it has always done.
And in case you're wondering: there are six chapters in total
===============================================================================================================================================================
Fallen Heroes Part II Chapter IIa
Earth, San Francisco – July 1, 2380 – Stardate 57498.6
From the moment the sun began its early-morning reign, there hasn’t been a cloud in sight. In a few hours, the sun will ring the curtain down on another well-received performance and disappear behind the horizon. Until then, everyone in and out of the city can revel in the comfort of a warm summer’s day.
Lieutenant Ralph Blue has been working in the garden all day, yet he’s reluctant to quit. His endearingly archaic cottage on the outskirts of San Francisco is surrounded by a large garden, which requires frequent maintenance. That’s no issue for Ralph, who can be found tending his box trees whenever his busy work schedule in Starfleet’s science division allows him the opportunity.
In his late forties, the lieutenant is an attractive man. His well-preserved looks and natural charm, complemented by his laugh lines, give him every ingredient to be a typical ladies’ man. However, after his wife left him when their only son was ten years old, his appetite for romance faded. Self-blame and regret formed a bitter cocktail preventing him from opening up to anyone new. Instead, he focused on being a good parent, until the Borg cut those efforts short. Following his assimilation into the Borg Collective and his subsequent rescue at the hands of his son, who left shortly thereafter, he embraces these instances of solitude to reflect on his life. On a day like this, there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s on the right track.
So here the off-duty lieutenant is trying his best to turn a box tree into a perfect globe while occasionally throwing a glance at the city of San Francisco, which lies gleaming in the evening sun. He has no regret whatsoever for moving to this house on this hill with its bright green grass and fertile soil. Having lived here for almost two years now, he is yet to grow tired of the scenery, so he glimpses at the city once more, only to discover that a figure has emerged at the far end of the garden.
“Dad?” the figure says.
Ralph responds by cutting his award-winning box tree neatly in half. Oblivious to his act of tree mutilation, he drops his gardening tools and slowly rises to his feet, squinting at the silhouette. Could it be… “Tony?” he says, staggering toward the figure. Once he’s close enough to recognize his son, Ralph breaks into a run, aching muscles or not.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t—” Tony says, unable to finish his sentence because Ralph hugs him so thoroughly he’s lifted off the ground.
To Ralph’s surprise, his son winces in pain, prompting Ralph to let go and step back. Though this shouldn’t be, the young commander appears weak and disheveled. Granted, his wearing civilian clothing instead of a pristine Starfleet uniform might detract from his usual confident aspect, and it has been a year since Ralph has last seen him, but he knows his son well enough to sense his misery. “You’re not a Q anymore.”
Arms hanging by his sides, Tony stares at the grass. “Is it that obvious?”
“Is this why you’ve come back?”
Tony struggles to come up with a proper answer. “I… I just wanted to say hello,” he says, trying to sound indifferent and failing. “And I was hoping we could talk.”
“I must say I did not expect this sudden visit,” Ralph says in a serious tone.
Tony opens his mouth, yet words elude him.
“But you know you’re always welcome here.” The affectionate warmth in Ralph’s voice should alleviate any lingering feelings of guilt. “Stay here as long as you like or as long as Starfleet will let you stay.”
This marks the first time since last year that he sees Tony smile.
“You know your way around the house,” Ralph says as he guides his son to their home. While they’re traversing the stone path leading to the front door, he notices Tony is limping. He decides not to mention it. It can wait. Right now, he is content knowing his son has returned. “Your bedroom is still in the same place. I figured you’d be back one day.”
From the corner of his eye, he spots another figure in the garden: a brown-haired woman roughly the same age as Tony. He gives Tony an inquiring look. “Who is she?”
Tony responds with a brief eruption of incoherent stammering. That’s not working, so after a second of contemplation, he levels his gaze at his dad and says, “Umm… can we keep her?”
* * *
Night has fallen over the Pacific Coast. Tony has grabbed a hideous, yellow lawn chair and placed it smack-dab in the middle of the garden, facing a beautiful panorama of San Francisco and all its colorful city lights. The night sky is free of clouds and would be empty and peaceful were it not for the steady streams of air trams, city hoppers, and shuttles crisscrossing the Bay Area like organized fireflies. They carry on as if nothing has changed and nothing ever will, as if the Station A-12 Debacle never took place. He could almost trick himself into believing that—almost. Sitting there, alone with his thoughts, he cannot escape that gnawing feeling one gets after returning from a long vacation: as if one never left to begin with.
His father, carrying an equally hideous lawn chair, walks up to him and seats himself next to his son. “That Emily sure is a sweet girl,” he says. “I can tell she’s feeling at home already. She has customized the guest room to suit her wishes and made an inventory of everything we have and should have.”
“Yeah, she’s like that,” Tony says with a subdued smile. “We’d better get used to it.”
“With her steadfast and strong-willed personality, she reminds me a bit of Sally.”
Tony’s subtle smile turns into a joyless grin. “Let’s hope Emily possesses the loyalty Mom lacked.”
Ralph clears his throat before asking cautiously, “While you were out there, did you reestablish contact with your mother?”
“No. I haven’t spoken with her since she left us.” Tony rubs his jaw. “To tell you the truth, with the way it all went down, how she abandoned us, I don’t ever want to see her again.”
“Neither do I,” Ralph says, though he doesn’t sound convincing.
With that touchy subject out of the way, they silently enjoy the soft weather and take in the splendid view. Minutes drift by like the maundering petals of the lone cherry blossom tree standing proudly at the edge of the garden.
“I’ve really missed this,” Tony says. “It’s different when you’re human. Cool breeze on my skin, air filling my lungs, a real heart pumping blood through my veins, being restricted to one time and place, watching stars that were once my domain. It is humbling to realize how incredibly weak and small I have become.” He catches himself speaking with sudden contempt. “Sorry…”
“It’s okay, son.” Ralph hesitates before continuing. “Emily told me a few things about what you went through at Station A-12, what you did and sacrificed. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you, what storm is raging in your head. I’d like to, but I can’t.”
“That’s all right. I can’t imagine how I feel either,” Tony says with a wry smirk. “My current strategy is to try not to think about it too much. I’ll deal with it when I must. It will take time, good old-fashioned linear time.” He wishes he had a beverage with him. That last sentence would have warranted taking a swig and looking pensively into the distance.
“You’ve changed.”
Tony nods, trying to appear stolid while suppressing a brief, unannounced pang of remorse.
“Standing up against the Q Continuum, choosing a side and facing the harsh consequences. You knew what you were giving up.”
“But was it worth it?” Tony asks, no longer pretending to be indifferent. “Most of my friends are dead; I couldn’t prevent that from happening. Got myself scarred for life in the process. I did what I thought was right, but I’m starting to believe I’ve made a horrible mistake.”
“No, you made a conscious decision to be there for your friends when they needed you most, and to be here and fight with us, potentially helping billions of people. The Continuum wouldn’t let you, but you did it anyway. How can that be the wrong call?”
An ironic sort of smile contorts Tony’s lips. “I guess becoming a Q has changed me in more ways than I realized, hasn’t it?”
Ralph no doubt intends to encourage him, yet it comes out as a feeble afterthought when he says, “Hey, you do with your life whatever you want.”
Tony sighs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Their conversation falls silent again as Tony takes a deep breath of pleasant night air and stares at the distant skyscrapers, tiny pins of light shining from their windows, creating a star field of their own. It takes him a while to muster the courage to say what needs to be said. “I’m sorry, Dad, for leaving you here. I shouldn’t have neglected you the way I did… You didn’t deserve that.”
Ralph knows a sincere apology when he hears one. He puts an arm around Tony and shakes him about playfully. “Well, you’re back now, aren’t you?”
“Phaser scar, Dad. Phaser scar,” Tony groans.
This father-son “quality time” moment suddenly gets interrupted by Emily shouting from inside the house, “Guys, you might want to see this!”
* * *
Ralph, Emily, and Tony sit together on a big sofa in the living room, watching the news on a holographic screen concealing the fireplace when activated. This technology is similar to the viewscreen used aboard the Achilles, albeit simplified and made suitable for domestic use. None of that matters to the three off-duty officers, for the news broadcast has captured their unbridled attention.
A holographic representation of a reporter—an attractive woman in her late twenties—addresses them while the Federation and Altonoid flags hover behind her. “—after claiming they have annexed Loïdian space. Ever since Starfleet made first contact with the Altonoids, three years ago, the Altonoids have treated us with unwavering paranoia and hostility, culminating in several armed conflicts. Regardless, we never gave up protecting the fragile peace between us and the Alto Empire. Last week’s forceful takeover of Station A-12, which cost thousands of lives—”
A stock holophoto of Station A-12 appears on screen. Emily finds it distressing to be confronted with this image, a blatant reminder akin to a sudden punch in the gut. Her wounds are all too fresh. She won’t soon forget the macabre sight of the dead USS Wolf clutching the defeated station. That was the exact moment she fully understood the true extent of the tragedy she had witnessed and that the Altonoids’ victory was irrevocable.
Luckily, the reporter comes into view again. “This relative peace was left hanging by a thread by what many considered an act of war. Our best diplomats have deployed a wide array of tactics to secure peace through negotiations, but the Altonoids were, simply put, ‘unwilling to listen,’ according to a Federation spokesperson.”
She pauses for a few seconds, looking billions of viewers across 8,000 light-years of Federation space in the eyes. “The Alto Empire has declared war on us. The major forces of the Alpha and Beta Quadrant, among them the Klingons and the Romulans, have stated they will remain neutral during this conflict, for this is ‘a dispute between the Federation and the Altonoids.’ Because none of the governments sees any reason or indication that the Altonoids might attack them as well in the near future, the Federation is on its own for now.”
Tony is getting paler by degrees while staring through the viewscreen, and his father shares his silence. Emily can’t believe this is happening. It’s as if she’s in one of those dime-a-dozen disaster holodeck programs or experiencing a bad dream. Sadly enough, there’s no waking up from this. She was in her mid-teens when she watched a disturbingly similar news report announcing the Dominion War. That one proved to be only too real.
The reporter keeps spewing cold fact after fact. “Starfleet is already sending fleets to the Altonoid and former Loïdian borders. Additional military information is not available at present. However, we can be sure that Starfleet will do everything in its power to defend the citizens of the Federation from these aggressors.”
Emily turns to Tony, perhaps hoping to find solace, but he is no longer by her side. Looking around, she catches but a glimpse of Tony walking out the front door. His father hurries after him.
* * *
With unfocused eyes, Tony stares at the stars dotting the night sky in deceptive serenity. It’s hard to take that a war is being prepared somewhere out there—a war he could not prevent.
Footfalls in the grass alert him of his father’s approach. “I knew this would happen,” Tony says to him. “Everything is spiraling out of control the way I foresaw when I was a Q. I know what’s going to happen next. I know where this will lead us. It is what shaped my decision to assist the Federation.”
His dad cannot offer a response to that.
“I don’t… I don’t know the specifics,” Tony continues. “I no longer understand the intricacies of time; details of future events have blurred into a vague mess, yet I can say with absolute certainty that we have great reason for concern.”
Emily walks up to father and son with her arms crossed in a worried self-hug. “But I heard you say you know what’s going to happen.”
“I know we’re going to lose,” Tony says grimly.
“Don’t say that.” Ralph puts a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m neither an expert on temporal mechanics nor can I comprehend how the Q perceive time, but I do know one simple truth: the future hasn’t been written yet. Already your actions must have influenced what you believed to be the future. Could that be why the specifics of this upcoming war have become hazy?”
Tony remains silent as he gently removes himself from his father’s grasp to step forward. He keeps listening, though.
“We’re all afraid of the future,” Ralph says. “Everyone is, especially now.”
“But we know there’s always hope,” Emily cuts in. “We may not be omnipotent, but we can make our little differences each day and hope for the best.”
Tony’s gaze is fixed on the heavens, yet he knows she’s smiling right now, for his sake. “I suppose you’re right.” He turns to face his father and Emily, and indeed, her encouraging smile does not disappoint. “Now I have you two. I couldn’t have predicted that.”
“Exactly!” Ralph says. “Who knows what other great things await us?” He lets the notion sink in for a few seconds. “Or we could all be dead by next week,” he continues in the same optimistic tone of voice.
A beat of shocked silence.
Then everyone bursts out with laughter, and they go back into the house, leaving the radiant field of stars to watch over this tiny blue planet, as it has always done.