“Grandmothers.” I bowed before the High Council. None of these women were the mother of my mother, and three of their number were less than a decade older than myself. It was just a traditional term of reverence for their station.

“Arise our child.” The Grand Chancellor pressed a button on her dais, and the first page of my doctoral thesis appeared on the display behind her. “We have summoned you today because we have some questions about your research.”

“Has there been some problem?” I racked my brain to try to find something I had done wrong. But surely no mere academic discretion would rise to the council’s attention?

“Not of your doing, Doctor Ivanov. In this paper, you discussed the procedures used to examine an approaching star and how this closely matched our hundred-thousand-year-old records of lost Sol.”

“Have I made a mistake? Did I overstep in my conclusions?”

“Apparently not. This paper says that you studied the languages of old Earth, both written and recorded, to compare them against your astronomical observations. Is this correct?”

“Yes, Grand Chancellor.”

“Then our request today is that you translate the message we recently received from this star so we can compare your work against the machine translation. Will you do this for us?”

“Of course, Grand Chancellor.”

She pressed another button, and then a man’s voice spoke in English. “Greetings to the planet Aquiline from the planet Earth of Sol. We would welcome any ambassador you care to send us.”

I translated the message into Aquilian and then added, “Grand Chancellor, that appears to be a man’s voice. I mean an adult of the lost gender.”

“Yes, no man has ever stood on the thousand worlds, and yet one exists on the homeworld of all women. Interesting that he knows the name of our planet.”

“Grand Chancellor, we are in active communication throughout the galaxy and …” I stopped momentarily, then repeated her use of the long-forgotten gender term, “he … must have picked this up. I studied this star that claims to be Sol but detected no such transmissions myself. Not that this star can be Sol, which was unexpectedly ejected from the galactic plane and hasn’t had a half orbit to plunge back.”

“Yes, and this is the only transmission we have detected from this ‘Sol.’ Doctor Ivanov, what would you advise our response to be?”

“Find one volunteer and send her to investigate, along with a message detailing her craft and planned trajectory.”

“Doctor Ivanov, no woman is more qualified than you are for this mission. Will you go?”

Over the next month, I gathered a team to adapt the design of a starchute probe into a one-woman starship. Satisfied with our design work, we sent the response message with my plotted trajectory to this planet that claimed to be Earth.

Two years later, my support team talked me into taking a break on my last night on Aquiline. I took Nikki on a camping date to the depths of a park outside the capital. There, lying on our backs, I pointed up into the clear, dark sky.

“Now, Nikki, follow that line of stars over to the right and then look for where that crosses the other line. See it?”

“That faint point of light is the Sol of legend?”

“It’s a star as bright as our own, but even now, at its closest approach, it’s still five lightyears away.”

“But Bagi, you said when you wrote your paper that this couldn’t be Sol.”

“So much of Sol’s disappearance is shrouded in mystery. You can’t blame our ancestors, who were busy building the dozen great ships to escape some forgotten catastrophe. The records show that shortly after launch, Sol was ejected by some unseen force out of the galactic disk, and all communication was lost. Later, after the first dozen colonies were founded, they searched the skies for the path Sol had been on and found no trace of it.”

“Why were the first colonists all women?”

“Given the slow speed of the first ships, they were on multiple-generation flights, but these ships couldn’t be big enough to carry genetically diverse populations. Hence, they had all women crews with large supplies of X-chromosome sperm and a small supply of Y-chromosome sperm to use once the colonies were established. But all of the ships had a common design flaw, and upon arrival, they found that their Y sperm supplies weren’t viable. There was a great rush to develop cloning and two-mother solutions, but two colonies didn’t make it in time. Since then, women have spread out to settle around a thousand worlds. Well, 954 that we know of, but news only reaches us at the speed of light.”

“Bagi, how can it be that you’ll take only five years to reach this Earth, but your first message when arriving there will return here a dozen years after you leave?”

“Time slows down when you’re going fast.”

“Why do you have to go? Just send a robot instead.”

“Well, they asked for an ambassador. We did have a major robotic probe program ten thousand years ago, when that star was far above the disk, and the thousand worlds program was settling every habitable planet within reach. But if we sent a robot now, how could we program it to do exactly what we want?”

“Why not make a machine as smart as a woman then?”

“While an Artificial General Intelligence is, of course, physically possible, at least one exactly as smart as we are, this by definition would be deciding on its own what to think about and hence wouldn’t be bound to follow our wishes.”

“Then why should the High Council trust a woman such as yourself, Doctor Ivanov?”

“Half a billion years of evolution for emotional stability. But it’s not like they’re putting the entire galaxy’s fate in my hands. Though speaking of biological urges…”

We made love for the last time that night under the light of that legendary star.

The next morning, I took a hover ferry to the floating barge that functioned as the root of The Stalk and loaded all my luggage aboard the lift. That night, I looked down at the lights of the cities of Aquiline, ten megameters below me, as the lift continued to accelerate up The Stalk, no longer bothered by atmospheric drag.

The next day, the lift arrived at Aquiline Dock, and I floated along a guide wire to The Silver Butterfly. She would be my home for the next five years, by my clock anyway. I quickly inspected the hull, then went back into the dock’s airlock and floated my luggage through the connection to The Butterfly’s airlock and down into the living chambers.

There was one final day where I was drilled yet again on how to fix every system on The Silver Butterfly by the dock crew, and then I was alone inside The Silver Butterfly as a cargo lift carried her for a day to the top of the upper stalk. An hour before release, I climbed up in fractional gravity through the ship’s spinal airlock to the top Command/Escape Capsule, which was at that moment pointed down towards Aquiline, which was sixty megameters below me. I closed the hatches of the airlock and capsule, strapped myself into the command chair, did a final systems check, and then hit the release from the cargo lift. Thus, the Silver Butterfly was flung weightlessly out into space.

I established a laser link back to Aquiline Dock and reviewed the checklist with them, deploying the radiator wings, starting the fission core, and using the ion thrusters to adjust my flight path. Then, with megameters of clear space around me, I deployed the starchute via electrostatics, and once this was verified, I shut down the fission core, and Aquiline’s Dyson swarm shot near uncountable laser beams, each packing gigawatts of power, at my flimsy craft. The ship hummed with the vibrations of the cables to the starchute as these adjusted to the pull. The carefully tuned mirrors of the Silver Butterfly’s hull groaned from the physical impact of reflecting almost all of the incidental light that reflected from the main hull, with the remaining heat rejected out to the radiators, which had mirror shields of their own as these were held edge on to the force of the laser beams. Slowly, the acceleration climbed up to a full standard gravity.

Four hours into the flight, I did one final check of all systems, then sighted this self-proclaimed Sol through the ferrule module that perched above and was shielded by the starchute from the intense bombardment of the thrust lasers. I attempted to send my first laser message to this mystery star. If they had anywhere near Aquiline’s level of space industry, they would spot The Silver Butterfly as soon as the reflected light from my launch reached them, but while the signal laser had a much tighter focus, it was far less intense.

“Greetings to the Planet Earth. I am Doctor Bagi Ivanov, and am on my way to the rendezvous coordinates we sent two years ago. Hopefully, you will already have started your deceleration laser pulse before this message reaches you or I fear that my visit to your Sol system will be quick in passing. I’m attaching my latest telemetry and Galactic Pulsar Coordinates to this message, with a full accounting for every gram of mass onboard this ship, The Silver Butterfly. I will send monthly updates on this frequency (adjusting for the Doppler on my end) until I hear otherwise from you.”

I sent one final message of the day back to Aquiline, then unstrapped myself from the command seat, climbed back down into the main hull to relieve myself, showered, folded down my bunk, strapped into that, and slept for the first time in interplanetary space.

During the first week, the round-trip message delays back to Aquiline climbed into the hours. I decided to play the part of a brave explorer. I sent back videos about interstellar navigation and routine tasks around the ship, such as setting up the hydroponic vegetable garden. I took recorded questions from the schoolgirls back on Aquiline and attempted to answer as best I could.

Four months into my flight, Nikki told me she had found somebody new and that I shouldn’t bother sending her any more messages.

I reduced my output to monthly status updates to the two worlds and turned to the digital library on the ship to read through ancient Earth literature. I was especially fascinated by the “bodice ripper” classics as I pondered what life must be like on this Earth with two human genders interacting.

Two weeks before the thrust lasers were scheduled to drop down from thrust settings at the end of the first year, I was awoken in a sweat by the ship’s alarm. One of the two radiator pumps had failed, and the temperature was climbing. I shut down every system I could do without; I stripped down to panties and a T-shirt, disconnected the valves, pulled out the pump, and found the main rotor was bent. While I waited for the 3D printer to make replacement parts, I considered pulling away from the beam, but I couldn’t reach the connection with the descent lasers just on the ion drive. Drenched in sweat, I put the replacement rotor in place and restated the pump. Over the next thirty minutes, the ship slowly cooled down from the danger level.

I sent a video update to both worlds, and it was only as I lay on my bunk under the full-power air conditioner that I realized what a sight I must have been on the video, damp with sweat and wearing very little. With no ability to chase after those photons, I collapsed into sleep.

To be awoken by another alarm six hours later. The carbon dioxide levels were climbing to dangerous levels. I put on the helmet and air cylinders from my spacesuit as I purged and refilled the air scrubber. A few hours later, my cylinder was empty, but the ship’s air was breathable again. I hooked up the cylinder to refill, and collapsed again.

Over the next two weeks, I double-checked all systems, then set the ship to prepare for weightlessness as the thrust lasers finally cut off. I was now traveling as fast we dared, over three-quarters of the speed of light.

I drifted along for another year with the starchute semi-furled ahead of the ship, and then it took a hit from a tiny pebble that hit with many times its mass in explosive effect. I spent the next month going out each shift in my spacesuit to patch the cable attachments to the ribs that ran along the gossamer material of the starchute.

I received a video message from Earth three years and nine months after launch. It was that same man who had sent the voice message before. And the video encoding matched the format we had sent in our pre-launch message.

“Greetings to the ship that will have been sent from Aquiline. I am Mathis Vicene. Sol System shall send the thrust laser pulse as per your requirements and you should start receiving this in about one month by your ship time. I am including the calculations from our side as to your projected trajectory and our response beam.”

I forwarded his message back to Aquiline. I checked his plot and then sent my response to both worlds.

“Greetings to Mathis Vicene and all the people of Earth. I am Doctor Bagi Ivanov, and I concur with your calculations. I will follow the path you have plotted.”

Having a name, a face (and a general body outline under his clothes) to go with this man’s voice had a strange effect on me, and I played with myself in the shower as I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to be held by this man from Earth.

Later, as I drifted into contented sleep, I suddenly realized that this “Mister Vicene” had given no indication of his rank or position. His clothes seemed to be comfortable casual wear rather than something formal like a uniform or purely utilitarian like my jumpsuit. I chided myself that he was just a space traffic control employee with a family of his own and no personal interest in entertaining a woman from the stars.

I caught the retro laser and rode that down towards Sol over the next year, once again under a full gravity. Fortunately, my jury rig of the starchute held.

A few months into my deceleration, I felt a sudden thrill as Mister Vicene responded to my first video message.

“Greetings to Doctor Bagi Ivanov of Aquiline aboard The Silver Butterfly. I am Mathis Vicene of Earth. We have observed your first day of flight, and all seems well. I am including our latest pulsar measurements along with our thrust laser plan.”

Over the next several months I caught up to his responses to the various issues I had encountered along the flight, and I wore some of the more casual clothes from my luggage when I sent my replies.

I made observations of this Sol system during my approach and sent these back to Aquiline. It matched precisely to the Sol of legend, save for the missing Mercury and the asteroids, which had clearly been turned into their Dyson swarm. Earth was precisely in the orbit that the records told of and had all of the signs of life, except for a lack of the nighttime lights of the many cities that were supposed to be there. But perhaps my sensors were blinded by the thrust lasers.

By the penultimate day, the communications delay was down to minutes, and I synced my sleeping schedule to match Mathis’s.

“Bagi, I’m signing off for the night. I’ll take a nap on the stalk and see you in person tomorrow.”

I responded instantly, “Mathis, who will handle the final approach?”

I waited several minutes, and then a graphic of my approach and a woman’s voice were sent back. “Greetings to Doctor Bagi Ivanov of Aquiline aboard The Silver Butterfly. I am Rachel. I will be guiding you to the dock.”

I went over the calculations given and then responded. “Hi, Rachel. This isn’t the vector to Earth Stalk?”

“Bagi, if you don’t mind, I’m shepherding you to dock at an isolation ring. It’s been many generations since your ancestors left Earth, so we need to ensure that you don’t transmit or contract any pathogens during your visit to Earth.”

“Yes, that’s a good precaution. I will follow your lead.”

With one hour to go, I climbed into my spacesuit and strapped myself into the capsule. “Rachel, due to the ad hoc repairs, I cannot completely retract the starchute. What do you advise?”

“Bagi, release the starcute. I’ll blow that out of the system and you can dock on ion drive.”

“Rodger that, Rachel. Releasing the starchute now.”

I piloted the Silver Butterfly on the course given past Earth Stalk and docked at the center of an orbiting ring nearby. I assumed it provided one standard gravity at 500 meters in diameter and almost two rotations per minute.

I went out of my airlock and into the ring’s airlock, then was directed to an elevator down one of the spokes.

“Bagi, you can take your helmet off. I’m maintaining an Earth-standard environment here.”

“Oh. Thanks, Rachel.” I removed my helmet and smelled the provided air as my weight in the elevator slowly climbed to normal.

“Now take a right down this corridor and take the next door on the left.”

“Thanks, Rachel.” I entered the small room and saw a robodoc above an examination table. The room was without windows. Was this quarantine station entirely remotely controlled?

“Bagi, please strip and lie on the table for the examination.”

“Yes, I guess you can’t be too careful.” I lay naked on the table, and as the machinery above me started to move, I felt suddenly drowsy and drifted off to sleep.

Sometime later, I heard Mathis’s voice, “Oh, you’re awake?”

I opened my eyes, turned my head, and saw him sitting on a chair less than two meters away. I looked around and saw that this was a slightly larger room than before and that the surface of Earth passed by a window. I sat on the bed I was lying on and turned to face him, putting my bare feet on the floor.

“Mathis, why are you here? What about the quarantine?”

“Rachel has ensured that we’re both protected against cross-infection.”

“So quickly? How long have I been out?”

“Just a few days.”

I ran my hand over my itchy scalp and found that I had been shaved bald. “What happened to my hair?”

“Just a precaution. We weren’t sure if the hair mites of Earth had made it to the colonies.”

“Oh, then what about my …” I looked down at my mons and saw that was also shaved bald.

“Don’t worry about it. The hair will grow back.”

I looked back at Mathis and realized I was exposing everything to him. I took the sheet from the bed and used that to cover myself. “Please excuse me while I get dressed. Where are my things?”

“Still under quarantine.” Rachel’s voice responded from a speaker overhead. “I’ve provided you with new clothes in your exact sizes in the closet.”

“Well, excuse me.” Mathis rose and walked to the door, then turned back. “I’ll see you at breakfast when you’re ready.”

After he left, I found the bathroom, relieved myself, and showered with a body wash that had the fragrance of an unfamiliar flower. I applied a lotion to my scalp at Rachel’s direction, which was very soothing.

I dried myself (much easier without the hair, I admitted) and examined the contents of the closet. The clothes inside were much more casual than any I had packed in my luggage. These were of light and thin fabrics, and even the underwear was more showy than utilitarian. I dressed in white lacy underwear and wore a white dress with flower patterns cut so low in the front that it almost exposed the bra. I wore white sandals and a white lacy hat to cover my baldness.

As I paused to examine myself in the mirror, I thought the entire effect was feminine, as if I was dressed for a picnic date, not an ambassadorial mission. Feeling a little naughty about how I was dressed, I resolved that the High Council owed me at least one day after the long trip and resolved to enjoy this “date.” Perhaps I could playfully flirt a bit without causing an interstellar incident.