Neptune - Part 1

Part 1 – My Regrets
Letter To Mercury From Neptune, 01/02/2075
Dearest Mercury,
I hope this letter finds you well. I hope it finds you at all. Today, I couldn't help but to be thinking about you. It is the fiftieth anniversary of our escape from the facility, and I regret what I did to you all those years ago. I cannot forgive myself and I cannot expect you to forgive me. I thought I was doing it for your good, to offer you the chance at a peaceful, happy life, but I spend hours upon hours thinking about you.
I miss you. It is perhaps unfaithful to Saturn, who you may have learned I have taken as my wife, but I will never be able to stop loving you. I have been thinking a lot lately. I have been thinking of what my life would be like if you were here with me. I know what you must be thinking. I am now a man past my prime, and the last time we have seen each other we were children. I must just be feeling nostalgia as I think about what seems to be the distant past, and to what must seem like ancient history by the time this reaches you.
By such a time, I will have passed on. That is what I regret the most. That I did not get the opportunity to see you even once more. I wish for the days that we were children back, even through the bitter cold and lifeless machinery that we have been run through. I wish for the days when we could laugh and enjoy each other. All of us. But you most of all. I long to say, "Put your gloves on and dance with me." I loved you and I will continue to love you until the day I cannot love anymore.
With all the care in the world,
Neptune.
***
A black suit with a black tie seemed to be the proper attire for this event. For all of the space available, the people attending are few. I count five now. I do not want to be here, but I don't think that anybody does. I exchange glances with a beautiful arctic fox recom and we both wordlessly acknowledge each others' presence here. This is not the time for words. Not for her. What is there to say? I sit down at my lonely chair, one amidst the many present. I idly wonder why there are so many?
Did the organizer really expect more than this to attend? I don't think that she does. The tragedy, however, deserves a crowd in her mind and so she is inviting one without words. I glance to the seat next to me to see it empty. My wife, Cheryl, is not attending this event and she usually avoided attending non-official events together with me anymore. It is for the best, for we would only end up silently bickering with gestures and whispers if she did. Our relationship is not based in love but in political convenience. This sharpened the sting of this event for me as I look towards the front of the room to see a snow leopard recom standing at the pulpit, wearing a non-descript black dress. She was married for love once and only a few short days ago her entire life and family was broken. That she stands instead of remaining on the floor in bitter tears, cursing her life and existence, shows to me her undying inner strength.
She surveys the crowd slowly and she nods once deliberately, knowing that this is everyone attending, but casting an eye on the door to see if anyone else will come to accompany her in her mourning. That someone will come to remember her husband and children other than these few. Death does not usually bother me, but the closeness of this family to me and mine made even me feel melancholic.
"Hello." As she speaks, everyone turns towards her. Her usually strong voice trembles slightly as she tries unsuccessfully to hide her pain. She is a woman with many names. Tamara Mary Olsenfheimer. Samara Samuel Olmer. Mercury, I suspect, but she neither confirms nor denies it. I listen as her speech continues, "We have come here today to join together in mourning the losses." She pauses to take a deep breath and compose herself. Prideful as she is, she refuses to allow herself to cry in front of this small gathering. "...of three lives. Darryl Elliot Racer was a wonderful man and a wonderful husband. I cared for him deeply, and he was better than anything I ever would have expected. He was better than I ever would have deserved. I missed him when he was out for a few hours. I miss him now, and I wish he was still in the front row, giving me strength and encouragement." Her eyes flick to one of the empty chairs in front, and she takes another pause to regain her strength.
I adjust my tie slightly and I look around the room to check the expressions of the others. I hate funerals. I need some feedback to be able to determine how to look, how to react. Nova Seven, the vixen I saw earlier, is crying. It seems to be in response to seeing her friend in so much pain since she didn't know the man very well. A male ferret recom with body mods sat two rows back from her, next to a male cat-rabbit recom. They seem to be offering each other some comfort. They are friends of Darryl's, I assume.
The snow leopard's soft voice continues: "We also mourn Leia Mary Racer and Luke Samuel Racer, the two beautiful children we had together. Their loss is what hurts me the most."
An androgyne, Sam was not able to give birth to children, so the two paid a surrogate to give birth to their child, engineered from a combination of their DNA that would create the most desirable traits in both of them. Though they only hoped for one child, they received two fraternal twins. It is a hope of mine to keep as many Sol Series strands continuing as possible, because of the possibilities that recoms of this type can offer to recom-kind. The loss of these particular three was an eradication of the Saturn line. As much as it shames me to consider now, I sincerely hope that Samara keeps some DNA samples for potential cloning just so that the line does not run dry.
"They were wonderful gifts in my life, even though it was only for a short time. Leia was stubborn, hot-tempered and she was the most loving child that you could even imagine. Luke was smart, obedient but always too curious for his own good." That kind of loss is something that causes me a lot of anxiety. That she had her children torn away from her is truly a tragedy. My two children, Natasha and Paris Olne, are the loves of my life despite being nothing but trouble. If anything was to happen to either one of them, it would crush me.
The speech proceeds even as I lose myself in thoughts, fear and sympathies: "I could tell you countless stories about both of them, but I will spare you that. I just want to say that I am glad that their lives touched mine, for however short it- for however short it was. I was just glad to have a family, if only for-" She shakes her head and covers her mouth with one hand. That she managed to speak this long is impressive, but her composure breaks down and she steps away from the pulpit and sits in one of the front seats, her face burying into her hands. Nova gets up from her seat to go comfort her friend and I get up and walk in the opposite direction, towards the front door of the building.
It is more than six years from the day that I first met Samara and Darryl. I was just an employer to them, though I had exchanged communications with Samara before the job was taken. I knew that Darryl was a descendant of Saturn and Neptune, same as I was, except that he represented the Saturn line. I also knew that Samara was genetically identical to Mercury. This coupled with the fact that they were two of the most well-respected mercenary intelligence people made the choice for which individuals to hire for recovery of the Sol Series files a straightforward decision. I press my hands against the door and glance over my shoulder. I need to sit down outside quietly and consider a question that has been on my mind for days: Who killed Samara's family? And what should I do about it?