10. Epilogue
In the months that followed, much was destroyed, but even more was built. All weapons were burned. The rocket was dismantled, despite the captain’s protests. Its parts were used to construct homes, generate clean energy, and collect ample water for animals too.
Rules were established. Humans could only enter the animal nest if they gave advance notice, and preferably without clothing that could conceal weapons, though this requirement was scrapped after much protest.
It was forbidden to build any space stations or ports. All signs of aggression were banned, especially from the human side.
But they accepted it. Because they’d seen what could happen—and they had no place left but this planet. The planet cut itself off from the rest of the universe. It was so severe that other colonies called it the Radio Silence of Platsu.
Simmo was commanded to destroy all his drawings showing rocket construction. Only Hera had asked to tuck one into her books, to preserve a shred of history.
He didn’t mind. He’d become the chief researcher, studying the planet’s peculiar plants and animals every day. He lived in nature and discovered that though this life also came from Somnia, it remained endlessly unique.
The sun was hotter. The atmosphere thinner, so you burned faster and had to stay out of sunlight. Since days were longer, many creatures instead slept in short spurts, often active day and night. In summer, all animals migrated to a nest much farther off, because then the stony ground melted into a hot tub you didn’t want to touch.
Jacintah visited more often. Simmo had finally worked up the courage to speak with her and ask his most pressing question.
“Is there other life?”
“The honest answer? I don’t know.”
Simmo still struggled to grasp that Jacintah didn’t walk, but rather teleported in little hops. You never knew which way to speak.
He also struggled to hide his disappointment. “But … you can go anywhere. And with your sister, any time too.”
“Do you know what infinite means?” said Jacintah. “It means that for every place you visit, two more are created that you’ve never been.”
Simmo looked puzzled.
“Don’t worry, infinity is hard for humans to grasp.”
“But all the life you know …”
“… comes from Somnia. It’s incredibly rare, you see. Somnia didn’t get lucky once. Over thousands of years they kept hitting the jackpot, allowing life to form. It all started of course when my godparents arrived here. Before then, they did odd jobs around the universe for their father, helping other lifeforms. Ismaraldah says many of those alien races tried reaching Somnia over time.”
“Seriously? We were invaded by aliens and didn’t even realize it?” Simmo’s mouth fell open. “We are the aliens?”
“No, no, you’re Somnia’s original inhabitants. The aliens were never successful and fled quickly. So, other intelligent life must have evolved—but I can’t find it. Not anymore, at least.”
She playfully pressed her soft paws to Simmo’s face.
“And that’s why we must cherish what life we have.”
Hera had withdrawn, curled in her reading chair with a good book, away from it all. They no longer needed her to communicate. However calm she seemed from the outside, her mind raced.
News of Mindy’s death spread fast across the human universe. But the Radio Silence meant that no one could land here, if they even had working rockets left. So their receptors flooded with messages of condolence, grief and a spark of promised revenge.
They’d sent dispatches to Trevran but he gave no reply—likely poor reception at the edge of the universe. Or he’d found another world beyond their receiver’s reach. Or he was long dead, from an accident, or loneliness.
As Cosmo’s famous saying goes, she thought, beings can scour the universe for all its stars yet forget to see the stars around them.
Other news also reached their receptors. A group terrorized parts of the Nibuwe system, even spreading beyond it now. They called themselves CAJAR—an acronym whose meaning she didn’t know, but resembled another name too closely to be a coincidence.
She closely followed CAJAR’s missions, unable to stop herself. Until, per the agreement between humans and animals, all the receptors also had to be turned off.
She sank back into the plush chair from fatigue. Jacintah had kindly brought her old reading chair from Somnia. It didn’t cheer her up, as she hoped, but mostly reminded her of better times.
When Mindy was her living role model with whom she might speak. When Casjara still exercised in front of her, whenever she glanced up from her book. She wanted to read, to lose herself in another world, but no sentence truly entered her brain.
Hera shook her head, feeling the anger rise again. She set the book aside and grabbed another.
Tucked inside was Simmo’s diagram showing how to build a simple rocket. From Casjara’s belongings, she’d found information on constructing primitive weapons.
She had ample motivation to read those. Mindy’s interplanetary army was a lie, but it didn’t have to stay that way.
And so it was that life continued …