Chapter 1

Earth - Three years later...

Molly Jacobsen’s sister wasn’t supposed to come back to Earth—ever.

Yet, here Molly was, rushing through the crowded Denver Region Interplanetary Transportation Station to bring her sister home. Her parents and several friends waited at home for the two of them to arrive. Mom had planned the party for weeks, a party to beat all celebrations in the Jacobsen home—to date.

The telecom, sent to Earth once the interplanetary ship was within satellite range, had said Kita would need help when she arrived. But why? Authored by Pastor Oliver Pugh, who served as the Site Pastor on Omicron, it could be trusted. But why had he been so cryptic.

When Kita left, seven years ago, she had been a strong, vibrant woman of twenty. Finishing two marathons that year, nothing was beyond her abilities, and her spirituality exceeded most people her age. It certainly exceeded Molly’s. A second cryogenic transportation was unheard of, at least local medical knowledge had deemed it dangerous after so short an interval. Was that why Kita would need help? How much damage would the second three-year stasis cause? What was so much more important six-hundred lightyears from Earth to risk her sister’s well-being like this? That project leader, Mr. Austin Abraham, had a lot of explaining.

“Molly Jacobsen,” her name squawked across the mass communication system. Every person in the T-station heard it through overhead iComm speakers in their individual language. The linguistic software technology at the intergalactic station was quite impressive, even to an experienced law enforcer who has witnessed all types of modern technology. Yet, the quality of the speaker still sounded like a damaged subwoofer. “Report to ... gabardine info_mation kiosk.”

Molly reached up behind her right ear to press an implanted iComm device. The message linked and repeated in her hearing. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she pondered, Gabardine information kiosk? She looked around for something—anything, that had any resemblance to what gabardine might be. Frustration and fear roiled in her gut. The iComm-translation software missed the mark for the word, “information.” Perhaps it missed translating the color by calling it gabardine. Was that green? Grey? Greenish-brown? Who knew? It made no sense. She did not need this. She needed clear instructions: Your sister is located here, come get her.

Molly half ran, half walked through the T-Station, although running in public was considered improper social etiquette, like elbows on the table while eating, and as a law enforcer, social etiquette was mandatory.

Fear for what she would find when she got to her sister lingered in her thoughts. The math hardly added up. Kita had been gone seven years, which meant she was on the planet for ten months, maybe eleven before the decision had been made to send her back. Nobody ever returned from these things. It was a life-long commitment from the beginning. So, why Kita? What went wrong? Molly swallowed the bitter bile edging onto the back of her tongue. This had to be bad, really, really bad.

Kita was their parents’ blond-haired girly girl, and Molly, the red-haired tom-boy. But, deep down, Kita had always been the braver of the two. Still. Molly swallowed, even though her mouth had become too dry to produce saliva. She pushed herself to walk faster. Was it possible Kita had simply changed her mind? Molly rolled her shoulders and neck while trying to keep her eyes on the crowd she maneuvered through. Should she flash her legal-enforcer badge to assume Priority Passage? No, that would get her nothing but back in the boss’s office—Priority Suspended.

Anger, fear, and frustration stewed in her gut. This pilgrimage had made her mad from the get-go. She knew her sister would leave the minute she started talking about it, regardless of how the rest of her family felt. It was so like her.

Molly was all for helping the underdog, the helpless innocents, and the oppressed. That’s why she joined law enforcement. And, sure, Jesus said, “Go and deliver the good news,” but to trek across the universe, for people who needed help with fertility at the expense of her own family, no way! Not to mention forever leaving her twin— Kita! Be all right! Molly stretched out her twin senses but detected nothing. Her stomach knotted as her eyes darted from machine to machine, nothing resembled a gabardine kiosk. She stopped.

People rushed past her. Someone accidentally clipped her shoulder, causing her to stumble forward. Reaching up to touch her iComm link, a woman with bright blue hair and orange vertically dilated goat-like eyes, who had been walking toward Molly, collided into her extended elbow. A soul-signature surge of silver, unlike any human, pulsed around the woman’s body.

“Uhhh!” Molly staggered backward and closed her eyes. She turned to apologize, but the woman flashed an angry orange look, moving quickly on her way. Like most travelers, she was in too big of a hurry to be cordial.

Molly reached up to touch the iComm link again. “Locate Map, Denver Region Interplanetary T-Station.”

A map of the entire station appeared in her private visual range. All five levels were visible in touchable layers. “Locate—Gabardine Information Kiosk.” The layers shuffled, and a green light glowed on level one. Molly’s eyes swept the map for her red mark. It was a personal, “You are here,” that appeared on any locator accessed through the iImplant software. She was on level three.

“Show. Shortest—Undo, fastest route.” A blue line appeared as if it were being projected on the floor, but only she could see it, leading her to a transfer lift to her right. She hurried and stood before the arch.

“Level one,” she announced. A thin, red beam swept down her face, and then a green light flashed at the apex of the arch. She stepped through the lift and emerged on level one. Glancing around to get her bearings, she followed the blue line, constantly stretching out her senses for her twin. Why couldn’t she feel her? As soon as they revived Kita from the stasis, Molly should have been able to sense her presence. What was wrong?

Mom and Dad had maximumly supported Kita’s decision to take the pilgrimage. Of course, they would. A pastor and his wife always support a missionary spirit. But this initiative was different. The entire family had to endure a six-month therapy regimen. Regardless of your certitude, it wasn’t easy to let go of a family member—forever. The distance and hibernation cryogenics simply did not allow for return visits. Their only hope lay in future improvements to communications between interplanetary regions and-or improved transportation methods. But for now, it was a one-way trip—supposedly.

Since word came of Kita’s return, Mom hadn’t stopped crying “happy tears.” She began immediately planning the homecoming party. For Molly, an array of emotions between joy and terror filled her heart, and hadn’t left. Something had to be wrong. Seriously wrong. That much she could feel. Now, whether it was what her mother called her gift of discernment, gut instincts, or twin senses, she couldn’t decide.

Stepping in front of the dirty green-grey kiosk, she panted, “I’m ... Molly ... Jacobsen.”

The black screen crackled and lit up. A simulated headshot filled the screen of an ancient computer pioneer, Steven Jobs, in a dark, high collar modern-day suit. His eyes seemed to find Molly’s before he spoke.

“Molly Jacobsen?” The simulated Mr. Jobs smiled as if he recognized her.

“Y-yes,” she said, trying not to blink against the Identification Recognition Scan sweeping her face. The results scrolled across the bottom of the screen, including her social identification and employment, “IRS-Confirmed, SID 932 27 T562. Molly Nicole Jacobsen. CS-4 Legal Enforcer”

“Your presence is required at docking station J-two-nine-eleven. Please wait while I generate your Entrance Permission,” simulated Mr. Jobs said.

Right. While the machine whirled and churned, Molly stared at the placard bearing the namesake, “Steven Jobs Memorial Information System.” Chewing on the inside of her cheek and shifting her weight. There was nothing else to do but wait and read the front of the kiosk. Her eyes almost involuntarily roved over the biography of Mr. Jobs.

“Steven Jobs experimented with different pursuits before starting Apple Computers with Steve Wozniak in cir. 1976. Apple’s revolutionary products, which include the iPod, iPhone, iPad, iWatch, and iComm are now seen as dictating the evolution of modern technology...”

Molly snorted a chuckle. Revolutionary products? The Apple iProducts were so antiquated, children studied about them in World History. Nowadays, technology was integrated into a person’s physiology, not in a device. Still it did bear the iconic name iComm to this day.

At last, a red, rigid film squeezed out a slot below the SJM placard. Molly held it up to read. A poorly etched picture of her as she had stood before the kiosk being scanned for the ID confirmation, and the words, Entrance Permission, was printed in black. Below that, were fourteen numbers, 24.08.2214 11:23:17—today’s date and time.