The specimen bag was cold against Adrian’s leg as he carried the most recent yield from the cellar back to his home. Fields stretched towards the horizon of the Tortulan flood plains, and waves crashed in the distance. Above, the sky shifted from blue to a deep purple as the planet’s sun drifted below the horizon.
Tortula was practically a paradise. Breathable air, a wide swathe of perpetually temperate climate. Even the soil near the sea was perfect for growing just about anything. Practically a paradise, but something was missing for Adrian.
His gaze drifted upward to the lens array hanging overhead. Big enough to be glimpsed from the ground, the ancient artifact had brought him here. It would send data home. Maybe someday it would let them go back to Earth.
The first lens had been discovered half a century before, hiding in the shadow of Pluto. Decades after humanity had stripped it of its planethood, Pluto had proven to be the most important spot in the solar system. A massive artifact that, during certain points of its rotation and orbit, allowed other worlds to be glimpsed.
The lenses had given humanity the stars. A dozen possible homes and habitable worlds in far corners of the galaxy. Distances that would require generations to cross, bridged in an instant by technology so advanced it might as well be magic.
Unfortunately, whatever or whoever had made the lenses hadn’t left instructions, and the trips from Earth were one way. According to the xeno-engineers, the lenses should allow for matter and data to be transmitted in both directions. Whatever ancient civilization had built them clearly intended for the near-instantaneous travel to be in both directions. They’d also probably been able to align them at will, rather than waiting for an annual confluence of orbits to shift into place an allow transportation for a few days.
That was the issue in using relatively unknown alien technology to traverse the stars. Maybe they’d have it restored someday. Maybe not. But for now, matter went out, but only data could come back. A one-way ticket for the bravest humanity had to offer.
That the lens was visible now meant the alignment was nearing. It always appeared over his part of Tortula right before contact with Earth was possible. It meant that if this round of experiments didn’t work, he’d have to wait a year to send the results home. Part of him hoped they wouldn’t. It would help put off an awkward conversation a little bit longer.
He reached the entrance to his house, opening the door. No airlock needed on Tortula. His wife Elana had gone to pick up his son, Richard, from soccer practice. That detail was still a little unreal. Soccer on a distant planet. Youth leagues, even. They’d be back in an hour or so, which gave Adrian time to work.
He unlocked his private lab and shut the door behind him. Condensation had bled through the canvas bag at his hip. The glass inside clinked as he hung it on the back of the chair. Adrian removed a dark bottle from the carrier and rested it on the console. Another bottle followed. And a third. He placed a half dozen bottles on the console of his private lab. Another twelve stayed in the bag — two extras of each sample.
Condensation beaded up on the bottles and ran down to pool at their base. The liquid inside perfectly chilled. Adrian placed a camera on the console and sat down. He reached into his jumpsuit and pulled out the letter. The paper was almost translucent after two decades and a journey across the stars.
Adrian unfolded it with care. The writing had faded to illegibility, but he still knew what it said.
Adrian -
You seem set on this course of action. To leave everything our family has built over generations behind in some wild dash across the stars. I know it’s been hard on you since your mother died. That I’ve been pushing you more. But this is too much. Without you here, Burning Smith will pass from our family and into someone else’s hands. Your great grandfather founded it, and we’ve all worked to keep it with us. You think I didn’t make sacrifices to stay here? You think your grandfather didn’t? I am appalled at your selfishness. You have no right to leave.
There’s still time to reconsider. Call me if you do.
-Dad
He folded the letter back up and tucked it back into his pocket. Actual paper. Leave it to his father to do things the old-fashioned way. Upon reflection, it was probably the furthest something hand-written had traveled in the history of humanity. Another small achievement for his father.
Time to get to work.
He pulled out a bottle opener shaped like a dragon’s head. The words Burning Smith Brewery were emblazoned on the side in golden letters. Another relic from his home that had been transported between worlds. He turned on his PDA’s recording feature again.
“Okay dad. Here goes.”
Adrian popped the top off the bottle containing the alpha strain’s yield. He wafted the scent from the bottle. Yeasty. Hoppy. Nothing to stop him from taking a sip.
He raised the bottle to his lips and took a pull. The liquid spilled across his tongue and he shook his head. Palatable, but not perfect. “It’s got the bitterness, but there’s something missing. It’s not quite right.”
Beta next. Same. Drinkable, smooth. But still not right. The rest were sampled, sipped, and then discarded. Not quite perfect. Not what they were trying to achieve. And then he got to Gamma.
The cool liquid flowed across his tongue and, while the hops bitterness was there, a lingering sweetness — just a touch of honey — followed behind. It tasted exactly like his father’s signature brew. The Draconic Preservation IPA.
Adrian took another long pull on the bottle, not sampling this time. Just enjoying it. It tasted of home. He looked at the camera and raised the bottle, a grin spreading across his face. “Got it. Dad. I’ve got it. We’ve got it. Humulus Lupus Tortulus. Tortulan Hops. Gamma strain. Generation Fifteen.” Fifteen attempts at getting it right. And here he was. Just in time to make the alignment.
He drained the bottle, and then paused the recording. Time to compile the data. Ten years of work, and he’d finally done it. “I need another.” He chuckled and pulled out the other two bottles.
He hummed an old song, one of his dad’s favorites. Hadn’t listened to the whole thing since he’d left earth — didn’t remember the words. But the melody stuck with him. It always came drifting up after testing. This was the first time it made him feel good. Hopeful.
He took the beers back to the console and popped the top off another one. He started the recording again. “Okay. Dad. This has been a long time coming. You said when I left that there was nothing for you out here. That your life’s work was on Earth, and that’s where you’d stay. Where I should stay as well. So. I don’t know if you saw the other messages I sent. You never replied. But I’m hoping this one piques your interest.”
Adrian paused, his voice catching., his eyes drawn to a picture on the top of the console: himself, with Elana and Richard. The family they’d built here.
The letter’s words still burned in his mind.
You have no right.
Sometimes his father’s selfishness astounded him. Earth was crowded. Dying by inches. So was the family business. Synthetic beer tasted almost the same while taking up no land and costing a fraction to produce, and so the “natural” brews had been pushed to an artisanal corner of the market. Burning Smith Brewery was only just holding on when Adrian had left. Without his mother to run the books, the place had been going downhill fast.
For a moment, he considered abandoning the whole project. Standing up and leaving ten years of work on the table to rot. Happened every time he thought about making this video.
He doesn’t deserve this. You don’t owe him anything.
The words hissed in the back of Adrian’s mind, a constant companion as he worked on this project far from home. He realized he’d been staring at the camera in silence and reset the recording to start over.
“Hey dad. It’s been a while. I know you’re probably still angry. I just. Look. Let me explain.” He fought to be more coherent this time. “You spent your life working for granddad. Dedicated to making sure that the family business continued. I know you wanted me to follow along — to use my degree to help with new strains of hops for the family fields.” Adrian took a slow breath. “That’s exactly what I did. Just out here.
“I’ll be sending more details of the process, but it was an interesting puzzle. The problem wasn’t getting the hops to take root in the soil here. We’ve set up near some of the best loam I’ve ever seen. The coastal temperature is perfect, and the weather is mild enough that we can grow most things year-round. Just drop the seeds in and the climate takes care of the rest!”
Adrian took another sip of the beer before continuing. “That ease of growth was actually our main issue. Again, I’ll attach more data, but introducing Earth plants to the biome got complicated. None of the native fauna view our stuff as a food source. None of them could eat our stuff as is.” Adrian shook his head. “Was zebra mussels all over again. Or maybe Kudzu.” He’d leave out the videos where they’d had to burn out the first fields they’d planted before the hops could spread the entire way across the planet.
“If native Earth hops were an option, I’d have gotten a brewery up and running ten years ago. When we adjusted the genetics and made a hybrid with the local flora, the results tasted pretty awful.”
There were several videos of spit-takes from the testing — and those came after the four rounds of harvest that produced toxic vapors that had nearly knocked him out. And those had been an improvement on the sludge the first two strains had turned into.
“You said there was nothing out here for you. That your life’s work as on Earth — and that you expected me to devote my life to the family business as well.” Adrian’s voice caught. “Dad. The family business is where the family is. You haven’t met Richard.” Another voice catch, and his eyes stung with tears. He fought to control them. To master the tremble in his words.
“Mom’s been gone since before I left. Your brothers too. I know how much the brewery’s legacy means to you, but it has no future on Earth. You could come out here and bring the Burning Smith to a new world. They’ll figure out the lenses eventually — even if we’re both long gone by then. You and I could pioneer the first beer to be enjoyed on more than one world.”
He didn’t try and stop the tears now “I’ve wanted to make this recording for so long. I’ve been waiting have something to show you. In the end, the business is where the family is. Your family is here now. So. Take a look at what I’ve sent you, and come have a beer with me. Before you go off to join mom wherever she is.”
He paused again. A hazy detail rattling in his mind. A final brick in the tower of his argument. It clicked into place. “You haven’t met your grandson.” His breathing was coming in labored gasps. Desperate. Shuddering. “Come meet Richard. He’s an amazing kid. He has mom’s smile. Her laugh. There’s a piece of the family out here — a large piece now — but it won’t be complete without you. I love you dad. I miss you.”
Adrian stopped the recording, his stomach clenching. He considered deleting it and starting over. Taking a more defiant stance. Telling his father that he didn’t care if the old man came or not. That it was all the same.
No. You need to do this.
Even if his father never answered, Adrian could go on with his life knowing that he’d at least tried to do the right thing. Made an attempt to reconnect with the family. His father was right about one thing: it had been Adrian’s decision to take Elana and go where they couldn’t return from.
He sighed, getting himself under control, and then uploaded the data files he’d been curating for the last ten years. Videos of old tests. Time lapses of the hops growing. Soil and other environmental data. In the end, the file was huge — but still felt smaller than it should be. Adrian considered a moment, then added pictures of Richard. His son learning to walk. To use utensils. Recordings of the first words he’d spoken. It didn’t add much to overall size, but it did create a sense of completeness.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he sent the packaged data to the lens transmission station. The clock showed alignment would occur just after midnight. With the amount of data he’d sent his dad to sift through, Adrian assumed he wouldn’t hear back during the current alignment. A year. A year of silence, and then a few days to hope for a reply.
The door to their home opened, and Richard’s rampaging footsteps filled the lab. His babbling voice likewise drifted to Adrian as he excitedly told his mother about the goal he’d scored. Given that it was a twenty-minute walk from the soccer field to the house, it was probably the eighth or ninth time she’d heard the story.
Adrian heaved himself up from the console, grabbing the last beer and popping the top off with the bottle opener. “I’m in the lab!”
He opened the door and was immediately hit at the waist by a four-foot-high missile talking too fast to understand. He bent and wrapped one arm around Richard’s waist, hoisting him into the air with a laugh.
Elana’s hair was askew, her face flushed from chasing Richard. Before she could say anything, Adrian handed her the Gamma Strain bottle.
She arched an eyebrow and took a sip. Her eyes went wide. “You got it?”
“We got it.”
“You need to record the message?” A smile blossomed on her face.
“Nope. Already done.” Adrian grinned back.
“Need me to send it for you?”
“Already sent. Come on. Richard and I can get started on dinner. You go grab a six pack of the Gamma strain from the cellar. The others are pretty good, but the Gamma is the best.”
Elana drained the beer and placed a hand on his shoulder. She leaned in and kissed him, while Richard squirmed and made a disgusted face. She pulled back. “Good.” Her hand grabbed the back of his head. “I’m proud of you.”
“Been a long time in the making.” Adrian lowered Richard to the ground and pushed him towards the kitchen. “Go put a pot of water on the stove. You can handle that, right?”
Richard rolled his eyes with all the indignation an eight-year-old could muster, then scampered off.
“Think he’ll answer?” Elana’s smile fluttered a little. “After all this time?”
“I hope so. But if he doesn’t, I tried. And I think that’s enough.”
Elana pulled him close and kissed him again. “I think that’s all you can hope for.” She turned and headed to the door.
Adrian walked into the kitchen, helping Richard heft a massive pot of water onto the stove. “Good job, kiddo.” He tousled his son’s hair.
• • •
Adrian’s PDA buzzed on the bedside table. The sound drifted to him as though from far away. He and Elana had gone through more than a six pack the night before, enjoying the fruits of his labor — even the ones that didn’t quite taste exactly right.
Sunlight streamed in through the windows. At least Richard had let them sleep. He grabbed the beeping device and squinted at the screen. 9:30am. An alert had come through. A message from Earth.
He blinked a few times, sitting up.
That can’t be right. Takes a little over nine hours to get a message back to Pluto.
He accepted the message.
A simple text file, the time stamp at 4:25am-whatever local Earth time. From his dad.
Adrian woke up a little more. There was no way he could have gone through all that data and gotten a message back that quickly.
Adrian steeled himself for the rejection. A simple, It doesn’t matter what you do.
He opened the file and read the reply:
Been waiting to hear from you. Thank you for reaching out. I’ll see you next year.