Homeward Bound Part 4

"Helpful," Johnson observed, and Flynn nodded blandly. Johnson went on, "Well, anyway, show me. Show me around, too. This is the first time I've been conscious-as conscious as I am-on the Admiral Peary. Admiral Peary. Would be nice to know what I'm flying." Would be nice to know what I'm flying."

"You don't ask for much, do you?" Flynn brachiated up the hatchway. The stars.h.i.+p's tiny acceleration wasn't enough to worry about, not as far as motion was concerned. Feeling like a chimpanzee himself-an elderly, arthritic, downright spavined chimpanzee-Johnson followed.

The Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark had had observation windows fronted by antireflection-coated gla.s.s. The had had observation windows fronted by antireflection-coated gla.s.s. The Admiral Peary Admiral Peary had an observation dome, also made from gla.s.s that might as well not have been there. Coming up into it was like getting a look at s.p.a.ce itself. Johnson stared out. Slowly, his jaw dropped. "Jesus," he whispered. had an observation dome, also made from gla.s.s that might as well not have been there. Coming up into it was like getting a look at s.p.a.ce itself. Johnson stared out. Slowly, his jaw dropped. "Jesus," he whispered.

Mickey Flynn nodded again, this time in perfect understanding. "You've noticed, have you? It does. .h.i.t home."

"Yeah," Johnson said, and said nothing else for the next several minutes.

There was no sun in the sky.

That hit home, sure as h.e.l.l, like a left to the jaw. Johnson understood exactly what it meant. It wasn't that the Sun was hiding, as it hid behind the Earth during the night. When it did that, you knew where it was, even if you couldn't see it. Not here. Not now. There was nothing but blackness with stars scattered through it. And the closest of those stars was light-years away.

"And I thought the asteroid belt was a long way from home," Johnson murmured at last. "I hadn't even gone into the next room."

"Does make you wonder why we thought we were the lords of creation, doesn't it?" Flynn said. Johnson hadn't thought of it that way, but he couldn't help nodding. Flynn continued, "Look a little longer. Tell me what else you see, besides the big nothing."

"Okay," Johnson said, and he did. He knew how the stars were supposed to look from s.p.a.ce. Not many humans-probably not many Lizards, either-knew better. As Flynn had said he would, he needed a while to see anything else by the absence of a sun. But he did, and his jaw fell again.

The outlines of the constellations were wrong.

Oh, not all of them. Orion looked the same as it always had. So did the Southern Cross. He knew why, too: their main stars were a long, long way from the Sun, too far for a mere five or six light-years to change their apparent position. But both the Dogs that accompanied Orion through the skies of Earth had lost their princ.i.p.al stars. Sirius and Procyon were bright because they lay close to the Sun. Going halfway to Tau Ceti rudely shoved them across the sky. Johnson spotted them at last because they were conspicuous and didn't belong where they were.

He also spotted another bright star that didn't belong where it was, and couldn't for the life of him figure out from where it had been displaced. He finally gave up and pointed towards it. "What's that one there, not far from Arcturus?"

Flynn didn't need to ask which one he meant, and smiled a most peculiar smile. "Interesting you should wonder. I had to ask Walter Stone about that one myself."

"Well, what is it?" Johnson said, a little irritably. Mickey Flynn's smile got wider. Johnson's annoyance grew with it. Then, all at once, that annoyance collapsed. He took another look at that unfamiliar yellow star. The hair stood up on his arms and the back of his neck. In a very small voice, he said, "Oh."

"That's right," Flynn said. "That's the Sun."

"Lord." Johnson sounded more reverent than he'd thought he could. "That's . . . quite something, isn't it?"

"You might say so," the other pilot answered. "Yes, you just might say so."

Tau Ceti, of course, remained in the same place in the sky as it had before. It was brighter now, but still seemed nothing special; it was an intrinsically dimmer star than the Sun. Before the Lizards came, no one had ever paid any attention to it or to Epsilon Eridani or to Epsilon Indi, the three stars whose inhabited planets the Race had ruled since men were still hunters and gatherers. Now everyone knew the first two; Epsilon Indi, deep in the southern sky and faintest of the three, remained obscure.

"When we wake up again . . ." Johnson said. "When we wake up again, we'll be there."

"Oh, yes." Flynn nodded. "Pity we won't be able to go down to Home."

"Well, yeah. Too much time with no gravity," Johnson said, and Mickey Flynn nodded again. Johnson pointed back toward the Sun. "But we saw this. this." At the moment, it seemed a fair trade.

Ka.s.squit swam up toward consciousness from the black depths of a sleep that might as well have been death. When she looked around, she thought at first that her eyes weren't working the way they should. She'd lived her whole life aboard stars.h.i.+ps. Metal walls and floors and ceilings seemed normal to her. She knew stone and wood and plaster could be used for the same purposes, but the knowledge was purely theoretical.

Focusing on the-technician?-tending her was easier. "I greet you," Ka.s.squit said faintly. Her voice didn't want to obey her will.

Even her faint croak was enough to make the female of the Race jerk in surprise. "Oh! You do do speak our language," the technician said. "They told me you did, but I was not sure whether to believe them." speak our language," the technician said. "They told me you did, but I was not sure whether to believe them."

"Of course I do. I am a citizen of the Empire." Ka.s.squit hoped she sounded indignant and not just terribly, terribly tired. "What do I look like?"

To her, it was a rhetorical question. To the technician, it was anything but. "One of those horrible Big Uglies from that far-off star," she said. "How can you be a citizen of the Empire if you look like them?"

I must be on Home, Ka.s.squit realized. Ka.s.squit realized. Males and females on Tosev 3 know who and what I am. Males and females on Tosev 3 know who and what I am. "Never mind how I can be. I am, that is all," she said. She looked around again. The white-painted chamber was probably part of a hospital; it looked more like a s.h.i.+p's infirmary than anything else. "Never mind how I can be. I am, that is all," she said. She looked around again. The white-painted chamber was probably part of a hospital; it looked more like a s.h.i.+p's infirmary than anything else. Home, Home, she thought again, and awe filled her. "I made it," she whispered. she thought again, and awe filled her. "I made it," she whispered.

"So you did." The technician seemed none too pleased about admitting it. "How do you feel?"

"Worn," Ka.s.squit answered honestly. "Am I supposed to be this weary?"

"I do not know. I have no experience with Big Uglies." The female of the Race never stopped to wonder if that name might bother Ka.s.squit. She went on, "Males and females of the Race often show such symptoms upon revival, though."

"That is some relief," Ka.s.squit said.

"Here." The technician gave her a beaker filled with a warm, yellowish liquid. "I was told you were to drink this when you were awake enough to do so."

"It shall be done," Ka.s.squit said obediently. The stuff was salty and a little greasy and tasted very good. "I thank you." She returned the empty beaker. "Very nice. What was it?"

She'd succeeded in surprising the female again. "Do you not know? It must have been something from your world. It has nothing to do with ours. Wait." She looked inside what had to be Ka.s.squit's medical chart. "It is something called chicknzup. chicknzup. Is that a word in the Big Ugly language?" Is that a word in the Big Ugly language?"

"I do not know," Ka.s.squit answered. "I speak only the language of the Race."

"How very peculiar," the technician said. "Well, instructions are that you are to rest. Will you rest?"

"I will try," Ka.s.squit said. The sleeping mat on which she lay was identical to the one she'd had in the stars.h.i.+p. Why not? A sleeping mat was a sleeping mat. She closed her eyes and wiggled and fell asleep.

When she woke, it was dark. She lay quietly. The small sounds of this place were different from the ones she'd known all her life. Along with the noises of the stars.h.i.+p's ventilation and plumbing, there had been lots of tapes of random sounds of Home. But she knew all the noises on those by now. Here, her ears were hearing things they'd never met before.

Something buzzed at the window. When she looked that way, she saw a small black shape silhouetted against the lighter sky. It moved, and the buzzing noise moved with it. She realized it was alive. Awe washed through her again. Except for males and females of the Race and a few Big Uglies, it was the first living thing she'd ever seen in person.

She got to her feet. Slowly, carefully, she walked toward the window. Her legs were uncertain beneath her, but held her up. She peered at the creature. It sensed she was near and stopped buzzing; it clung quietly to the window gla.s.s. As she peered at it, she realized she knew what it was: some kind of ffissach. They had eight legs. Many of them-this one obviously included-had wings. Like most of them, it was smaller than the last joint of her middle finger. Home had millions of different species of them. They ate plants and one another. Bigger life-forms devoured them by the billions every day. Without them, the ecosystem would collapse.

Ka.s.squit knew all about that from her reading. She hadn't expected to find any ffissachi inside buildings. She especially hadn't expected to find one inside a hospital. Didn't the Race value hygiene and cleanliness? She knew it did. Her experience on the stars.h.i.+ps...o...b..ting Tosev 3 had taught her as much. So what was this one doing here?

As she stood there watching it, it began to fly and buzz again. Its wings beat against the window gla.s.s. She didn't suppose it understood about gla.s.s. Everything in front of it looked clear. Why couldn't it just fly through? It kept trying and trying and trying. . . .

Ka.s.squit was so fascinated, she thought she could have watched the little creature all night. She thought so, anyhow, till her legs wobbled so badly she almost sat down, hard, on the floor. She also found herself yawning again. Whatever went into cold sleep, it hadn't all worn off yet. She made her way back to the sleeping mat and lay down again. For a little while, the ffissach's buzzing kept her from going back to sleep, but only for a little while.

When she woke again, it was light. Sunlight streamed in through the window. The ffissach was still there, but silent and motionless now. Before Ka.s.squit could look at it in the better light, the technician came in. "I greet you," she said. "How do you feel this morning?"

"I thank you-I am better." Ka.s.squit pointed to the window. "What is that ffissach doing there?"

The technician walked over, squashed it against the palm of her hand, and then cleaned herself with a moist wipe. "They are nuisances," she said. "They do get in every once in a while, though."

"You killed it!" Ka.s.squit felt a pang of dismay at the little death, not least because it took her by surprise.

"Well, what did you expect me to do? Take it outside and let it go?" The technician sounded altogether indifferent to the ffissach's fate. There was a stain on the inside of the window.

"I do not know what your custom is," Ka.s.squit answered unhappily.

"Do you know whether you want breakfast?" the technician asked, plainly doubting whether Ka.s.squit could make up her mind about anything.

"Yes, please," she answered.

"All right. Some of your foods came with you on the stars.h.i.+p, and I also have a list of foods from Home you have proved you can safely eat. Which would you prefer?"

"Foods from Home are fine," Ka.s.squit said. "I am on Home, after all."

"All right. Wait here. Do not go anywhere." Yes, the technician was convinced Ka.s.squit had no brains at all. "I will bring you food. Do not go away." With a last warning hiss, the technician left.

She soon returned, carrying a tray like the ones in the stars.h.i.+p refectory. It held the same sorts of food Ka.s.squit had been eating there, too. She used her eating tongs as automatically and as well as a female of the Race would have. When she finished, the technician took away the tray.

"What do I do now?" Ka.s.squit called after the female.

"Wait," was the only answer she got.

Wait she did. She went to the window and looked out at the landscape spread out before her. She had never seen such a thing in person before, but the vista seemed familiar to her thanks to countless videos. Those were buildings and streets there, streets with cars and buses in them. The irregular projections off in the distance were mountains. And yes, the sky was supposed to be that odd shade of dusty greenish blue, not black.

Ka.s.squit also looked down at herself. Her body paint was in sad disarray-hardly surprising, after so many years of cold sleep. As she'd thought she would, she found a little case of paints in the room and began touching herself up.

She'd almost finished when a male spoke from the doorway: "I greet you, ah, Researcher."

Reading his body paint at a glance, she a.s.sumed the posture of respect. "And I greet you, Senior Researcher. What can I do for you, superior sir?"

"I am called Stinoff," the male said. "You must understand, you are the first Tosevite I have met in person, though I have been studying your species through data relayed from Tosev 3. Fascinating! Astonis.h.i.+ng!" His eye turrets traveled her from head to feet.

"What do you wish of me, superior sir?" Ka.s.squit asked again.

"You must also understand, it is later than you think," Senior Researcher Stinoff said. "When you came to Home, you were kept in cold sleep until it became evident the stars.h.i.+p full of wild Tosevites would soon arrive. We did not wish to expend undue amounts of your lifespan without good reason. That stars.h.i.+p is now nearly here, which accounts for your revival at this time."

"I . . . see," Ka.s.squit said slowly. "I thought that, as a citizen of the Empire, I might have had some say in the timing of my awakening. I made it clear I wished to become familiar with Home as soon as possible."

"Under normal circ.u.mstances, you would have," Stinoff said. "In your case, however, how can circ.u.mstances be normal? And I thought that, as a citizen of the Empire, you would recognize that the needs of society take precedence over those of any one individual."

He had a point, and a good one. Aggressive individualism was a trait more common and more esteemed among the barbarous Big Uglies than in the Race. Ka.s.squit used the affirmative gesture. "That is a truth, superior sir. I cannot deny it. How may I be of the greatest use to the Empire?"

"You have direct experience with Tosevites." Stinoff was kind enough or clever enough to keep from reminding her again that she was was a Tosevite. He went on, "Negotiations with these foreigners"-an archaic word in the language of the Race-"will not be easy or simple. You will work on our side along with Fleetlord Atvar and Senior Researcher Ttomalss." a Tosevite. He went on, "Negotiations with these foreigners"-an archaic word in the language of the Race-"will not be easy or simple. You will work on our side along with Fleetlord Atvar and Senior Researcher Ttomalss."

"Oh?" Ka.s.squit said. "Ttomalss is here, then?"

"Yes," Stinoff said. "He was recalled while you were on the journey between Tosev 3 and Home. He has spent the time since his revival preparing for the coming of the Tosevite stars.h.i.+p."

Ttomalss had more time to spend than Ka.s.squit. That hadn't seemed to matter when she was younger. Her own time had stretched out before her in what seemed an endless...o...b..t. But it was not endless; it was spiraling down toward decay, burnout, and extinguishment-and it spiraled more quickly than that of a male or female of the Race. Nothing to be done about it.

"I was told this would be a stars.h.i.+p from the not-empire of the United States," Ka.s.squit said. Stinoff made the affirmative gesture. Ka.s.squit asked, "Do we know the ident.i.ties of the Tosevites on the s.h.i.+p?"

"No, not yet," the male from Home replied. "They will still be in cold sleep. The s.h.i.+p is not yet in our solar system, though it is close."

"I see," Ka.s.squit said. "Well, it may be interesting to find out."

When Sam Yeager returned to consciousness, his first clear thought was that he was dreaming. He knew just what kind of dream it was, too: a dream out of some science-fiction story or other. He'd read them and enjoyed them since the first science-fiction pulps came out when he was a young man. The elasticity that reading science fiction gave his mind was no small part of how he'd got involved in dealing with the Lizards to begin with.

This dream certainly had a science-fictional quality to it: he didn't weigh anything at all. He was, he discovered, strapped down on a table. If he hadn't been, he could have floated away. That was interesting. Less enjoyably, his stomach was doing its best to crawl up his throat hand over hand. He gulped, trying to hold it down.

I'm on my way to the Moon, he thought. He'd been to the Moon once before, and he'd been weightless all the way. So maybe this wasn't a dream after all. he thought. He'd been to the Moon once before, and he'd been weightless all the way. So maybe this wasn't a dream after all.

He opened his eyes. It wasn't easy; he felt as if each one had a millstone on it. When he succeeded, he wondered why he'd bothered. The room in which he found himself told him very little. It was bare, matte-finished metal, with fluorescent tubes on the ceiling giving off light. Someone-a woman-in a white smock hung over him. Yes, he was weightless, and so was she.

"Do you hear me, Colonel Yeager?" she asked. "Do you understand me?" By the way she said it, she was repeating herself.

Sam nodded. That was even harder than opening his eyes had been. He paused, gathered strength, and tried to talk. "Where am I?" The traditional question. He wondered if the woman heard him. His throat felt full of glue and cotton b.a.l.l.s.

But her nod told him she'd got it. "You're in orbit around Home, in the Tau Ceti system," she answered. "Do you understand?"

He nodded again, and croaked, "I'll be a son of a b.i.t.c.h." He wouldn't usually have said that in front of a woman, especially one he didn't know. He still had drugs scrambling his brains; he could tell how slow and dopey he was. Had he offended her? No-she was laughing. Bit by bit, things got clearer. "So the cold sleep worked."

"It sure did," she said, and handed him a plastic drinking bulb. "Here. Have some of this."

Clumsily, Sam reached out and took it. It was warm, which made him realize how cold his hands were, how cold all of him was. He drank. It tasted like chicken broth-and tasting it made him realize the inside of his mouth had tasted like a slit trench before. He couldn't empty the bulb, but he drank more than half. When he tried to speak again, it came easier: "What year is this?"

"It's 2031, Colonel Yeager," the woman answered.

"Christ!" Sam said violently. His s.h.i.+ver had nothing to do with the chill the broth had started to dispel. He was 124 years old. Older than Moses, by G.o.d, Older than Moses, by G.o.d, he thought. True, he remembered only seventy of those years. But he had, without a doubt, been born in 1907. "The stars.h.i.+p took off in . . . ?" he thought. True, he remembered only seventy of those years. But he had, without a doubt, been born in 1907. "The stars.h.i.+p took off in . . . ?"

"In 1995, Colonel. It's called the Admiral Peary. Admiral Peary."

"Christ," Sam said once more, this time in a calmer tone. He'd been two years old when Admiral Peary made it to the North Pole-or, as some people claimed later, didn't make it but said he did. He wondered what the old geezer would have thought of this trip. He'd have been jealous as h.e.l.l, He'd have been jealous as h.e.l.l, was what occurred to him. was what occurred to him.

More slowly than it should have, another thought crossed his mind. He'd gone into cold sleep in 1977. They'd kept him on ice for eighteen years before they took him aboard the stars.h.i.+p. It wasn't just because he was an expert on the Race, either. He knew better than that. They'd wanted to make sure he stayed out of the way, too.

And they'd got what they wanted. He was more than ten light-years out of the way. If he ever saw Earth again, it would be at least two-thirds of the way through the twenty-first century. To heck with Moses. Look out, Methuselah. To heck with Moses. Look out, Methuselah.

"I'm Dr. Melanie Blanchard, by the way," the woman said.

"Uh-pleased to meet you." Sam held out a hand.

She gave it a brisk pump, and then said, "You won't know this, of course, but your son and daughter-in-law are aboard this s.h.i.+p. They haven't been revived yet, but everything on the instrument panels looks good."

"That's good. That's wonderful, in fact." Sam still wasn't thinking as fast as he should. He needed close to half a minute to find the next question he needed to ask: "When did they go under?"

"Not long before the s.h.i.+p left. Biologically, your son is fifty." Dr. Blanchard talked about Jonathan's age. With a woman's discretion, she didn't mention Karen's.

"Fifty? Lord!" Sam said. His son had been a young man when he went into cold sleep himself. Jonathan wasn't young any more-and neither was Karen, dammit. Sam realized he had to catch up with a third of their lives. He also realized something else: how mus.h.i.+ly he was talking. Dr. Blanchard had been too discreet to mention that, too. He asked, "Could I have my choppers, please?"

"You sure can." She gave them to him.

He popped them into his mouth. He hadn't worn them in more than fifty years . . . or since yesterday, depending on how you looked at things. "That's better," he said, and so it was. "I can hardly talk like a human being without 'em, let alone like a Lizard."