What Grows Between Worlds
by R. C. Capasso
Part 1 appears in this issue
conclusion
“I don’t see anything that would interfere.” Thorn found it hardest to tolerate the packets of food they required for away missions. At least the main ship had an acceptable replicating system.
“You said there are particles.” Dolanger gripped one hand into a fist, then forced himself to relax it. “Could that be radiation? Dust?”
“I don’t know. The particles seem elusive. Sometimes the instruments detect them and sometimes not.”
Orrin gathered his emptied packets and moved toward the recycling receptacle. “And they are new, these particles? You didn’t register them the first time we visited?”
He knew at once he shouldn’t have said “visited.” “Landed” was the appropriate term.
Thorn waited till the captain returned to his seat. “I didn’t record them on our first scans, and I don’t find them now beyond the perimeter of where we remained last time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dolanger did not have as full a background in science as some officers. It might impact his future assignments, but he did well with command, security and observance of protocols.
Thorn looked at the captain. “I think this has been observed before, Captain. I believe that our coming has in some way impacted the planet.”
Dolanger grunted. “Oh, come on. Everything’s sterilized before we get there. Our suits, even the landing craft. We don’t emit anything. The only thing that touches the ground will be the landing gear that went through the planet’s own atmosphere. We’re not the problem.”
Thorn tilted her head slightly. “We are as careful as we know how to be. But every world is new, and we don’t know everything.”
Orrin nodded. “You both make good points. And we have to be careful how we frame this situation. We don’t even know that it is a ‘problem.’ We have just detected differences between our initial and our current scans.” He waited a moment, satisfied that they both kept silent. “If we have somehow interacted with Loric, we don’t know that this presents a difficulty. It may even promote the ‘possibilities’, the ‘potential’ that you spoke of after our first visit, Thorn.”
“That’s true.” She paused. “We just have to recognize that we are no longer working with an untouched planet.”
“But as of now, we only see an impact, if that’s even the word, in the area directly surrounding our landing site. Beyond the perimeter, we found nothing new, nothing anomalous.”
“Yes, sir.” Thorn folded and creased a food wrapper. “For now there seems to be some sort of liminal zone somehow marking the area representing the planet plus us, if you will. But you stepped past the edge today, sir. We may find an impact tomorrow. The affected zone may grow.”
“I don’t like this.” Dolanger stood, then pushed back his shoulders, perhaps uncomfortable at hovering over them.
“We will proceed with caution.” Orrin kept his voice calm. All he had seen on this second visit was more beauty. Beauty almost on an earthlike scale, with the tonality of Earth colors, the early hint of an Earth Spring. There was no danger here. There was a reaching toward them, an accommodation. Perhaps a welcoming.
* * *
When they landed back on Earth, something had changed. Orrin followed all the protocols, did the debriefs, and donned the comfortable, familiar clothing he always wore as a kind of ritual to mark his return to normal life. Yet as he stepped foot outside the agency compound, as he stood, sending his thoughts down the road, thinking, as he always did, “Almost home,” he sensed the alteration.
Euri’s voice on the phone had been bright, warm. But with an effort, just the faintest hint of heaviness. And so the air felt inadequate to his lungs, and he strained to peer into the light, wondering what his eyes were missing, why the world felt less rich and his bond with it somehow weakened.
* * *
It took two days before Euri shared the diagnosis with him. The doctors had devised a complete course of care, and she had already started a few weeks after his ship lifted off. The first results were ambiguous, but they still had reason to hope. The disease was moving fast, but they had nimble, powerful medications to try.
She was still Euri, doing all the things she always did. She’d arranged flowers in the house and could even do a little gardening outside, when she wasn’t too tired. Meals. She prepared him meals when she couldn’t eat. She could take brief walks, read a little from a lightweight screen, and listen to their music a bit before she went to bed early.
He sat beside her as she slipped into an uneasy sleep. Not lying beside her, because she had a special bed, programmed for her body temperature, where she could turn as needed and not be disturbed by another presence. While he was walking about in space, technicians and therapists had devised a “home” for her within their home. He edged within its perimeter, adding his love.
When she needed to move to the hospital, he was granted leave. He did not even ask where his ship went in his absence. The galaxy had grown small around him. There were still gleaming white walls and floors, devices taking scans, and daily reports, which he duly read.
But he was not fully obedient. He did not believe the results. Science was of no significance to him. The most important thing was the light in Euri’s eyes, the music of her voice, the way she still looked for beauty, even from her bed. He searched for loveliness to meet her eye or fill her senses as she rested. He tried to steady his breath as he saw her beauty etched more sharply, her flesh melting away, and her eyes remaining closed much longer every day.
When she died, people offered rituals to reproduce beauty and peace. Orrin did not fight this. Euri would have been kind and honored the ways of the world. He nodded and responded as expected to all those who supported him, yet in truth he seemed to throb within a tight, airless bubble, cut off from sensation or meaning or purpose.
* * *
He was assigned a few minor missions when he re-entered service. Nothing too taxing, nothing to put him or a crew at risk. His brain still functioned normally, he did well, and within a few months the Commander was ready to return him to full responsibility.
Dolanger and Thorn seemed pleased to see him. They said nothing about his absence or about his replacement and, for two planetary landings, they turned in accurate and useful reports.
When it was announced that they were to return to Loric for further scans, Orrin felt a shift in himself that he could not define. The planet was probably changing again. Would he be able to detect the alteration, diminished as he was? Well, he had Thorn and Dolanger for that. They’d miss nothing.
Orrin handled the landing himself. Working the control panel gave him a feeling of calm, of control.
Thorn swiveled from her console. “Sir, these are not the coordinates we were given.”
Orrin spoke over his shoulder. “We’ll get there. I just wanted to update our findings from the last mission.”
Thorn gave him a moment of silence. “Yes, sir. You’ve got us exactly where we landed the two previous times. But on this mission, we were supposed to be on the other side of the planet, for new information.”
“I know. And we’ll do that. After I check in with this area.”
Dolanger had been standing near the security officer. “You’ll be going down, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure that’s necessary? It’s a diversion from our orders.”
The captain turned, his face placid. “Our assignment can wait a few hours. I won’t be long.”
Dolanger glanced at Thorn. “Then Thorn and I should go with you.”
Orrin experienced an odd sensation, almost a wish to smile. “Replicating our conditions, Dolanger? That’s fine.”
But Orrin had to stop Dolanger as they assembled near the first of the sequence of hatches to let them onto the surface. “You’re armed?”
Dolanger raised his chin. “Something is different. We should take precautions.”
“It’s a lifeless planet, Dolanger. There is nothing to shoot.”
“We don’t know what has changed.”
“We know there is no enemy out there. You can’t shoot at the atmosphere or the soil composition.”
Dolanger met his eyes steadily. “I have a responsibility for the safety of this crew and of the landing party, sir.”
“I’ll feel a lot safer without a weapon at my back.”
“Sir—”
“No, return that to the arms locker. Unless you want me to take a science officer instead of you.”
“No, sir. I need to be on the team.”
Orrin watched him retreat and return unarmed. He gave no glance to Thorn, who waited in silence. His mind was quiet, attentive.
As he stepped out of the ship, his thoughts centered. Despite the bulk of the suit, he moved with ease, taking full, cleansing breaths. The soil beneath his boots welcomed his step, and across the sand ran a network of springy, green, flowering vines. The others would measure this growth, though their instruments might never capture its meaning.
“Sir, stay back.” Dolanger spoke from behind him, but he didn’t care. Flowers surrounded the ship. Crimson and white, with gold in their soft throats. Euri’s flowers, the ones she grew in the sun at the corner of the house. And there was a wind, because it carried a sound to him, an actual melody this time, notes rising and falling. It could almost have been that song Euri remembered from her country. The message no scanners could capture.
When he saw the shape approaching, he was not afraid. It floated and moved in the wind like a sheer cloth. Faint blues and hints of silver in a landscape of sand and now rising green. A silhouette, a form, so familiar that he could not be afraid.
It was his Euri. She had come to him, as he had always known she would, somehow. Their bond had never really broken. And she could bring him love and life in this new world that welcomed them.
When his hands went to his helmet, voices shouted behind him. But they came too slowly. As he fell, the air of Loric tasted sweet.
Copyright © 2026 by R. C. Capasso
