“Frontier,” I whispered the word out loud, and smiled. It tasted like freedom.
In the pre-dawn darkness, I took my pre-prepared go bag and began repacking, moving as quietly as possible. I stared at the row of fancy clothes my mother purchased for my future role as Mrs. Fitzsimmons. She stated I needed the structured elegance of silk dresses and too-high thread count power suits. I left those hanging in the closet like ghost versions of a future I was abandoning. Instead, I took synth-fiber pants, comfortable shirts, my favorite house slippers, and a thermal jacket I bought two years ago for a hiking trip I’d never taken.
Bring the essentials.I moved around the room, touching everything for what could be the last time.What else?I slid my data pad between a pair of pants to protect the screen on the journey. I hesitated over a rarity in our world, my photo album, before I decided on four. One of my parents and me on a family vacation to the mountains last year, and one of my grandmothers who died when I was twelve were my immediate picks. She’d been the only person who ever asked me what I wanted instead of telling me what I should want. The other two were photos of my parents and I all smiles at my college graduation, one of the happiest days of my life. I packed a small bag of toiletries, with minimal makeup - enough so any replicator could replace my favorites. I packed an actual paper book my best friend gave me about a woman who sailed around the world alone. My favorite stuffed animal rested on top
When I zipped the bag closed, it barely weighed ten kilos.
Twenty-six years of life, and I could fit everything that mattered in half of my luggage allowance. Wow. Guess I really am starting over.
I sat on the bed thinking about what I wanted to write in a note to my parents. Leaving a note and not telling them in person might be the coward’s way out, but it was all I could do. There was so much I wanted to say. I tried to explain my reasoning and to apologize in order for them to understand, but nothing seemed to flow right. Before my parents woke for the day, I settled for a simple, succinct paragraph.
Mom, Dad, I’m sorry. I can’t live the life you chose for me. I need to find my own way. Please don’t try to find me. I know what I’m doing, and I’ll be okay. Love you. ~ Dani
The lie in that last sentence felt heavier than my bag.
Terminal 9 was on the far side of the city, which meant two rail transfers and a security checkpoint. I moved through the crowds with purpose, head held high as if I belonged. I held the small data pad showing my transit permissions to the bored guards who barely glanced at my face. At 5:30 AM, the terminal was already chaotic with traders hauling cargo, military personnel in crisp uniforms, and families saying tearful goodbyes to loved ones heading off-world for work contracts.
I had no one to say goodbye to. The realization should have hurt more than it did.
“Transport TSD-222 to Frontier Colony 8, now boarding at Gate 23 in Terminal 9,” the automated voice announced. “All passengers must present credentials for final verification.”
My legs felt as though they might give out as I approached the gate. The verification officer was a Gelhari, a lizard-like species that looked more intimidating than they were. His green-scaled face remained impassive as he scanned my data pad. His secondary eyelids flicked across his eyes once.
“First time off-world?” he asked, his voice light.
“Is it that obvious?”
His mouth stretched in what might have been a smile. “You have the look. Excited and terrified in equal measure.” He handed me back my pad. “Colony 8-Beta is a good colony. It’s quiet and safe. You’ll do fine.” He gestured toward the boarding tunnel. “Hurry. Gate closes in ten minutes.”
"Thank you," I managed.
I walked down the boarding tunnel on shaking legs, the metal walls closing around me, the sounds of Earth growing distant. Other passengers jostled past. I was the only human in this group. A family of four-armed Ferfarmi laughed together, their children chirping in happiness. Two Avix traders argued in their clicking language about cargo manifests. A tall being I didn’t recognize, with skin like living crystals, read from a holographic display.
The shuttle’s interior was utilitarian but clean. I found my assigned seat, 25A, a window seat, and strapped in with trembling hands. As other passengers settled around me, I pressed my face against the small porthole and looked out at Earth.
All I saw were towers and throngs of people with their rules and expectations laid out like tracks I was supposed to follow without question. I wouldn’t let them win. This was my life, and I chose my path.
“First time?” The voice beside me made me jump. A Gelhari woman in the next seat gestured to my white-knuckled grip on the armrest. “Flying, I mean.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“A little bit.” She smiled, putting me at ease. “I’m Seri. Heading back to Colony 8. I spent a month here visiting family. You?”
“I’m Dani. I’m starting a new job there.”
“Yeah? Doing what?”
“Childcare. I’m a nanny.” To my surprise, I didn’t choke on the lie, because it was now the truth.
“Oh, wonderful! We always need more childcare workers on the colony. There are children everywhere.” She settled back in her seat. “You’ll love Colony 8.”
“What’s it like?”
“There are open skies and plenty of fresh air. Well, fresh for a terraformed colony. The people are good and kind. It’s a real community, you know? Not like this.” She gestured vaguely toward the porthole and Earth beyond.
“Attention passengers,” the pilot’s voice crackled through the speakers. “We are beginning our departure sequence. Please secure all safety restraints. Flight time to Colony 8-Beta will take approximately forty-two hours, including one jump through hyperspace. If this is your first jump, please note that some passengers experience disorientation or nausea. Medical assistance is available if needed.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. In forty-two hours, I would be somewhere my parents couldn’t find me, somewhere a marriage contract with the Fitzsimmons group couldn’t reach me, and somewhere I could be whoever I wanted to be. Or, at least, figure out who I wanted to become.
