Xenobiologist, The by AndromedaMarine
He was the xenobiologist. Not just a member of a rather small group of scientists, but the xenobiologist. All the work he ever did was profound, some even mysterious. Kind, brilliant, with a humbleness only his kind could know. Often, looking up his name one would come across the strange word. Metaphorically, looking up the word would produce his name. Using the proper way of cataloging books it was written. Xenobiologist, The. A simple, unique title, spun around so if you were looking at it you'd wonder if the publishers got it right or not. The author himself was an academically renowned and brilliant astrophysicist. And the xenobiologist's only real best friend. Who better to write a biography than the one who knew him best? Who better to write the xenobiologist's biography than the one who had also written one for his leader? Maybe a more appropriate title would have been: The Life and Accomplishments of the Xenobiologist. But if that were the case his personality wouldn't have been portrayed. Maybe if it were The Friend, it would be somewhat revealing about his character. The author chose his title because of how he knew the subject. The book wasn't just about a man, or a man's accomplishments. It was about a friend, a brother, a father, an uncle, even a grandfather, a doctor, and a xenobiologist. He died when he was old. The blast that could have taken him took Dr. Seeley instead.
The book didn't need a dedication. Everyone who read it knew who it was for. By the time of his death Carson Beckett was a household name, one to which few would have been oblivious. The author had been the godfather, grandfather and uncle to Beckett's children and grandchildren. And it began with a letter the author would never forget.
Ye are my brother. My family, my friend. No words could describe our bond. Our friendship has gone farther than many would have thought possible, quite like the number of times you've come back from the dead. The number of times we saved each other's lives. Best friends. Not the closest thing, Rodney. We were. Even the strangest things life has thrown at us – the things we won't mention, and the things we will. We have stories. Every life is a story. For a while, ours told different ones. But no two stories could have been more alike than ours. Our families – Laura, Katie – our children, will be the audience when we do tell those stories. Perhaps, depending on fate's plans, I might tell yours, or you might tell mine. But either way, we know there won't be any mistakes. No regrets, along the way. No second glance back.
Ye are my brother. My family, my friend. But I suppose, now that you're reading this, that it's your turn to tell the full story. The world – both worlds – deserves to know the truth about our secrets. The things we hid, in the past. Our choices in life. The story that continued the city we live on. Earth deserves to know our story. Earth deserves to know Atlantis' story. Tell mine. Tell yours. Tell ours.
Ye are my brother.
With love I depart from ye.