When we become stars
The safety catch
It’s not until they pass through the final arch and see the shuttle sitting proud against the icy earth that Li lets the relief flood through her. But before she can rush towards the ship, a voice calls from behind. It’s almost lost beneath the screams and wails of the emergency sirens, but she could never miss that voice.
“Mama.”
Dan stands frozen a few paces back, shivering from the cold in his torn cloth shirt. His eyes are wide, fixed on the sprawling mound of grey steel behind Li.
“What’s wrong?”
“I … I want to stay.”
Li blinks. There is no time for this, a small voice rages in her head. She can feel the precious moments slipping by. Soon the invaders will reach the shipyards and they will be trapped here on this dying planet with everyone else. She can smell the smoke on the air, see it coiling in the distance against the blood-red sunset.
It’s motherly instinct, though, that forces her to take careful steps back and kneel before her child. Her hand reaches out to caress his face. A layer of ash on skin meets her fingers. There is a pit in her chest, a great aching that she struggles to form words around.
The time for words has long since passed. She tries, anyway. “You were meant to survive, Dan.”
“But I don’t want to go. Don’t make me leave,” he whimpers. His tiny hand reaches out and wraps itself around her index finger. Tight. “Please. Just let me stay. Please?”
“I don’t want you to leave.” Li gives a heavy sigh and lets her eyes close for a moment. “Make this easy for me, child.”
“But I want to be with you.” He hesitates. Then he tilts his little chin upwards and Li can see he is doing his best to be brave. “Even if it’s all going to end. I want to be with you when that happens.”
That makes her go rigid. Her hands dart out to grip his shoulders with an intensity that she has never known. His mouth is open, ready to protest, but the words die away beneath her gaze.
“Don’t say that,” she snaps.
Dan blinks. He recoils slightly, and the hurt in his eyes fills Li with shame. She pulls him into a tight embrace. He is shaking, or maybe the trembling is hers, or all around — the entire world shivering as it comes undone.
“You have to survive, my starlight,” she continues in a softer voice. “There is so much left to see.”
“But I …” Here, at last, his face crumples and tears well in his eyes. “I don’t want to be alone.”
What can she ever say to that? There is nothing that can make any of this right again. Panic rises, thick and choking in her throat. No time left. The enemy will soon be upon them and it will all be over. It will all be for nothing. They will just be dust and ash on this forgotten world and —
“You don’t have to be.” The words are tumbling past her lips before she can stop them. “I’ll come with you.”
Dan blinks. Then, slowly, a wondering smile spreads across his face. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“But you said there were only enough supplies for one of us.”
“We’ll make it work.” She tries her best to produce a reassuring smile. “We always do, don’t we?”
He nods, and she thinks she has finally won him over. Then he bites his lip and the shadow of doubt creeps into his eyes. “You would never lie to me, would you?”
Alarm rushes through her. She tries not to let it show on her face as her heart hammers against her chest. He doesn’t know. He cannot know.
“Of course not,” she says. They will judge her. If there is a god or being waiting beyond, they will condemn her for this lie, but she will not beg for forgiveness.
The words are enough to chase the doubt from Dan’s face. He lets her take his hand, lets her squeeze it. Then together they hurry across the courtyard and towards the mouth of the waiting ship.
She counts the moments until he is frozen. His tiny body, suspended in the cryochamber, a smile fixed on his face. Li has never seen him so peaceful. Almost as if he is asleep. Almost as if he is dreaming.
You’ll wake me up when we arrive?
She promised. Yes, she promised, but there is a greater promise she owes him, has owed him since the day he was born — the promise of life. And when there is only one ship capable of flight left on their world, with enough supplies to last for only one passenger, the choice is easy. He will not understand. He will hate her when he wakes alone in his new world, Li knows.
But at least he will be alive.
So when she is sure at last that he has slipped off into the night, where he might dream of the dawn, of another world, of stars and all that he might still live to see, she rises. She turns off the lights, because he has always liked the darkness. At the edge of the cabin she pauses and watches for a time. She can imagine it. The slow rise and fall of his chest. The sweet music of his laughter. All the things that she will never know again.
In the night, she slips away, down the walkway and back into the open air. Beneath the stars she counts the moments as they pass. At last, she goes to the docking port and puts her palm over the scanner. A moment’s pause, and then a soft beep as the launch is authorized.
“Goodbye, my child,” she whispers.
Then she steps back. They will come for her, but she has known this since the beginning. There are no more sirens. The first flurries of snow have begun to fall. A sea of glittering white spans the air above, reflected below, dusted across the ground.
There is a flare of light and a heavy groan as the shuttle lurches into the air. Then it rises, higher and higher through the wind and the snow, until it is a light among the stars, until it is nothing but a memory of hope and a single, burning dream.
The story behind the story
Simon Pan reveals the inspiration behind When we become stars.
One of the most powerful phenomena known to humankind is the power of the love a parent has for their child. I can certainly recall the numerous sacrifices my parents made for me growing up, for which I am forever grateful. The seed for this story arose out of a single, burning question: how far are we willing to go for the ones we love?
Alongside that thought, “it’s for your own good” are words that have been echoed for generations around the world. I wonder: what happens when acts of love are one-sided, rather than arrived upon by mutual desire? Are such acts justified? These are the questions I wanted to explore in When we become stars.
doi: https://doi.org/10.1038/d41586-023-02351-9
This story originally appeared on: Nature - Author:Simon Pan
