The message takes up one fourth of the
napkin—folded, it’s unnoticeable. The words are crammed together so
tight, some of them run into each other, but I still manage to make
them out. They give me more questions than answers, though. How did
the Semper Filand if Ellington didn’t want to give Parker
coordinates? He’s still not letting them in, though. And Marie’s
getting worse. It occurs to me that I’ve never talked with her, I
don’t know her feelings on this whole situation. Is she as blasé as
Maclin about the life of the child she carries? Is she xenophobic
like Ellington?
I doubt it. If she’s managed to break
through the emotional barriers Conlan built around himself like all
the other colonists, then she probably shares his anguish, his
desperate hope. All the more reason to help her, help them both.
Maybe this will be the start of a new family unit here, one that
doesn’t fall apart from death or disease, one that survives.
Only then will the colony—and Operation