Diaspora Ad Astra (23 page)

Ina raises an eyebrow, amused. “You don’t see the perks of eternal life?”

“Not when I have to share it with fifteen billion other people who play god.” He pulls out a small vial of tiny white pills. “And I know you don’t,
either.”

She makes a noncommittal noise as she takes the medicine. “Thank you, doctor. I guess it depends on how you live the rest of it out.”

“And where,” he adds, grunting as he shoulders the bag, and waves her away when she tries to help him with it. “And you should know,” he says over his
shoulder, “starvation is the most painful way not to die.”

Ina shakes the bottle, listening to the contents rattle inside before she pops the cap and dry swallows two pills.

***

The door to her office flies open and Danny is standing in front of her, holding out a tablet.

“I found it,” he announces triumphantly, “I found the perfect planet.”

She puts down her pen. “Really? That’s fantastic.”

He continues, dangling the tablet in front of her excitedly. “Stable oxygen levels, plant life and all that, and get this, it has pink skies—”

“Thank you,” she interrupts him and smiles. “That’s great news. Give it over to Frances, she should announce the stopover to the guests soon. And tell
them what to pack. The last time, my passengers got off on a tropical planet with three layers on.”

Danny frowns at her for a moment. “Seriously?”

“Yes, it must’ve been a nightmare down there.”

“I meant you don’t want to hear—” He stops and shakes his head. “Forget it. Okay, I’ll let her know.” Danny’s voice is an echo
when he walks out the door. “We’ll be there in two days.”

***

It’s on the ninth day that they throw the dinner party. The food is incredible—she’s always had a sweet tooth that she could never satisfy back home, and
tonight the buffet tables are teeming with fruit tarts and all kinds of cheesecakes, and a chocolate fountain in the middle of it all. It is crowded in the ballroom, and they’ve had to make
do with cramming Monobloc tables and chairs beside the hardwood. For the first time, none of her guests—especially her upper-deck guests—seem to mind, and she supposes it has something
to do with the rare champagne going around. She goes from table to table, smiling and speaking with the guests, and thinks she sees the Hidalgo girl in a blue dress in a corner of the room
once.

Finally when she has enough of the laughter and the noise, and the children racing across the narrow spaces between chairs, she heads to the buffet table only to find the
dessert trays empty. She stands there in front of the table for a few minutes before she sighs and turns around.

“Ma’am Ina?” Gino is standing in front of her, still looking slightly uncomfortable in his tuxedo shirt. He holds out a small plate with an unsteady smile.
“I—uh—I kept this for you, earlier. Meg tells me you love cake—”

A slow grin slowly spreads on Ina’s face as she takes in the selection of small tarts. “You’re a lifesaver, Gino. Thank you.”

Gino flushes delightedly and hands her the plate. “Sure, ma’am.”

With cakes in one hand and a flute of champagne in another, she steals across the room and leaves Danny with the guests. She finds a quiet place at the roof deck and leans
across the railway, resting her forehead against the glass. Meg has opted out of weather designs for the night and the windows are alight with stars.

“Excuse me, Miss Ina?”

Ina startles and straightens, nearly dropping her champagne. “Miss Hidalgo. Hello. Is there a problem?”

The Hidalgo girl is standing a few feet away from her, sure enough in a blue dress, her hands folded neatly behind her. “No, no problem.” She hesitates, then,
“May I join you?”

“Of course,” Ina replies. She finds little of the girl from the first night in her now; her hair is pulled back neatly, and Ina sees traces of rouge on her
cheeks.

The Hidalgo girl quirks a smile when she notices Ina’s scrutiny. “I’m alright, I promise. I won’t open the airlock and flush myself away.”

“That’s good to know,” Ina smiles back.

“I just want to thank you for the first night,” the girl explains, “and congratulate you on this whole thing.” She gestures around her. “This
cruise is amazing. I’m glad my grandson booked me on this. I was afraid for a moment that we were getting too crowded in the house.”

“New baby?” Ina asks casually.

“Yes,” the girl replies, tucking a stray strand of her hair back in place. “There was a time when I wondered if I would ever even know my grandson. Now
there’s too much time, isn’t there?”

“And not enough space,” Ina agrees, and drains her champagne. “I should get back—” she starts to say, at the same time the Hidalgo girl says,
“I thought at first they wanted to get rid—”

The girl stops first, looking alarmed. “Oh sorry, I talk too much, don’t I? Please stay, I’m sure you really don’t want to go back to those crowds.
I’ll shut up now.”

Ina smiles again, pleasantly, and tugs at her suit jacket. “Of course.” There is a moment of awkward silence, before Ina clears her throat. “So what do you
do?”

“Nothing important, really,” she replies. “We used to smuggle sugar—real sugar—from the provinces and sell it in the city. But the plantation
closed a few months ago.” She leans on the rails and drums a pattern on the glass. “I would love a job like this. I didn’t even know we could afford these luxury cruises. Is this
your first voyage?”

Ina laughs lightly. “Yes, it’s our maiden voyage. I don’t remember how I landed this job, actually. But it isn’t much. The government needed someone to
do it, and I was available. And organizing this cruise isn’t as easy as you think.”

“It’s fantastic. And it’s probably as expensive as I think.”

“Not so much.”

“Is that why everyone can afford it?” The Hidalgo girl asks curiously. “I—I have to admit, I’m intrigued as to how so many of the lower decks
could pay their way.”

“We could never fill the ship,” Ina says. “So the population department sponsors a few barangays to join us.”

“That’s good,” the girl nods. “This is good for everyone, I think. A little space is always good. I heard our first stopover tomorrow has pink
skies.” She laughs, turning to face Ina. “I mean, have you ever seen pink skies before? Will you join us tomorrow?”

“One of these days, I think I will,” Ina replies, finding her glass empty when she tilts it to her lips again. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about
the planet.” When she doesn’t continue, they lapse into silence.

“I shouldn’t keep you,” the Hidalgo girl says at last, pushing herself off from the rail. “I just wanted to thank you. For the first night.”

Ina nods. “Of course.” The Hidalgo girl nods back, and Ina suddenly continues, “My husband and I took the pills, and he died and I didn’t. Sometimes
it’s just a matter of luck.”

The girl looks taken aback for a moment before she throws her head back and laughs out loud. The sound, Ina thinks, is refreshing, and she finds herself smiling.

“You’re the first one who’s told me that,” the girl says. “But I’m sorry about your husband, if only for your sake. And thank you,”
she adds, “again.”

When her footsteps fade away, Ina turns back to the window.

***

Early the next day she and the whole staff are out on the decks, in a single straight line, smiling at the guests as they shuffle to the shuttles. Most of them clap Danny on
the back and shake her hand, chattering loudly amongst themselves. It’s not as chaotic as she expected, and by lunch nearly all the passengers have boarded.

“On behalf of the crew, we’d like to wish you a great day at the Astrid! Dinner will be served in the ballroom later tonight,” Meg announces cheerfully.

Ina smiles, nodding at them, until a familiar face among the crowds catches her eye. “Gino!” she calls sharply.

Beside her, Meg falters from her sunny speech, and the rest of the stewards turn to look. Gino is in a loud neon shirt and bermuda shorts, talking to a girl beside him. At the
sound of her voice, he freezes and turns to her. “Ma’am?”

“Where are you going?” Ina asks, oblivious to the guests stopping to crane their heads at the scene.

“I—I’m sorry, Jenny traded shifts with me today, so I’ll be escorting the guests. I thought—” he stumbles. “I thought it’d be
okay. I didn’t know we had to clear it with you, ma’am.”

“I see,” Ina replies after a beat. “No, it’s alright.”

“Okay,” Gino says hesitantly. “Um, see you later tonight. I’m sorry.” He hurries along and tries to blend in the throng pushing in to get
inside.

“You scared him,” Danny says from beside her. She doesn’t reply.

The Hidalgo girl is one of the last to board, in a yellow sundress with a pair of pink shades on her head. She winks at Ina and grins at her broadly before stepping in. After
the last guest disappears behind the threshold they wait until one of the bellboys comes in running from the upper decks.

“That’s everyone,” he calls out, panting, and waves at one of the stewards to close the heavy doors of the shuttle.

Danny speaks into his phone, looking at her steadily. “You’re clear to go.”

“Wait, I think—” Ina interrupts. She thinks she sees the silhouette of a yellow sundress from one of the windows, but she may be wrong. She turns to see her
crew staring at her, and Meg starts to twist the buttons on her sleeves. The doctor, she notices, is absent.

“Clear them,” Ina finally says.

After the shuttle takes off, she nods at her crew and dismisses them with a wave of her hand to her empty ship. Danny stands beside her, his shoulder brushing hers.

“They won’t starve, will they?” She asks him as the shuttle grows smaller and smaller in the distance. She feels the ship hum below her feet and the gentle
tug as they begin to pull away.

“Not for a while,” Danny answers. “I hope not ever.”

She nods, crossing her arms. “Tell me about this planet,” she says, and he tells her.

By Celestine Trinidad

Doris felt like a dwarf among giants. The other leaders of the nations of the world towered over her, for everyone in the conference room stood at least six feet tall, and she
had to lean on Ruben just to be able to see the stage. Not that being tall helped Ruben, either. Though he was easily the biggest man in the room, he still kept being pushed and shoved by the other
dignitaries. But he suffered this treatment in silence; he still kept smiling and shaking hands with everyone, even those who looked blankly at him when he introduced himself and Doris. He was even
going to clean up the puddle of coffee spilled by the President of the United States when his secretary asked him to, thinking he was a janitor, had Doris not stopped him.

"Ruben," she said as loudly as she could, to make sure that the secretary heard every word, "you’re the Vice President of the Republic of the Philippines, and for God’s sake,
Vice Presidents don’t clean up after other people’s mess."

"Not unless it’s their President’s mess," Ruben said with a small smile. Doris did not laugh. "But I really didn’t mind," he protested. "It wouldn’t have taken too much
time—"

"That’s exactly the kind of attitude that got our country nowhere," Doris snapped. "Half the second century of the new millennium has gone and we’re still the same. It’s good
to keep friendly relations with the other leaders, especially the leader of the most powerful nation on the planet, but we don’t have to act like their servants."

"And that’s exactly the kind of attitude that got you so many enemies," Ruben said.

Doris snorted. "Enemies?" she said. "I’d be lucky if I had them. As it is, none of them really care enough to hate me.”

“Other people would take that as a good thing.”

“Not me. I
want
them to notice. Not just me, but our country. That will show them."

"Show them what, your Excellency?"

Doris did not answer.

At that moment the President of the United States stood up and went over to the stage. The President’s secretary punched some buttons on her palmtop, activating the holographic
display. President Watson’s image appeared on several locations scattered strategically in the room, every detail of his features captured, from the remaining strands of flaming crimson peeking out
of his ashen hair, to the wrinkles on his cheeks, which multiplied as he smiled at them like a doting grandfather.

"A pleasant morning to you all," he said. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence, all of you. We convene here today to discuss a matter of supreme importance. I stand
before you today not only as a leader of my nation, but as a citizen of earth, this beautiful planet that we live in."

He opened his arms wide, as if he wanted to embrace every single person in the conference hall. "This meeting marks a moment in our history that we will always be proud of. We
will tell our children stories of this day, and we will say, ‘It all started here.’ And indeed, this is the day that marks—"

"Cut to the chase, John," the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom said. The impatience in his toned slice through the room, amplified by the microphones embedded in his desk.
"We bloody know what we’re here for, no need for some fancy speech."

President Watson was unfazed. "—the beginning of a new future, a future where even the unknown reaches of space belongs to mankind. I present to you," his secretary
punched another button on the remote control, "our new home."

An image of what seemed to be a planet loomed beside President Watson, spinning on its axis. Letters hovered above it:
Gaia
.

"This is Planet Kepler 10b," he said. "Or as our astrophysicists fondly call it, Gaia. This is the first habitable planet confirmed by the NASA, only 2330 light years away. Its
atmosphere comprises mostly of nitrogen and oxygen, and majority of its surface covered with water. It is, by all means, identical to our own planet, Earth."

He looked away from the image of the planet to face them again. "As most of you are aware, my nation’s space colonization program has been very active for over a hundred years,
and through the years we have made great advances in the program. Perhaps the most important breakthrough we have made is the invention of the antimatter drive by Doctor Lang twenty years ago,
which has finally made it possible for our ships to cover light-years in mere days.