As Garuth stood in the doorway of one of the lecture theaters of the ship’s school and gazed across the rows of empty seats and scratched worktops to the raised dais and array of screens at the far end, his mind recalled those years. Many who had left Minerva with him had not survived to see this day. At times he had believed that none of them would ever see it. But, as was the pat-
tern of life, a new generation had replaced those who were gone- a generation born and raised in the emptiness of space, who, apart from the brief stay on Earth, had known no other home than the inside of the ship. In many ways Garuth felt like a father to all of them. Although his own faith had wavered at times, theirs had not, and as they had never thought to doubt, he had brought them home. What would happen to them now? he wondered.
Now that the day had arrived, he found he had mixed feelings. The rational part of him was joyful, naturally, that the long exile of his people was over, and they were at last reunited with their kind; but at a deeper level, another part of him would miss this miniature, self-contained world, which for so long now had been the only one he had known. The ship, its way of life, and its tiny, close-knit community were as much part of him as he was part of them. Now all that was over. Would he ever be able to belong in the same way in the mind-defying, overwhelming civilization of Thurien with technologies that bordered on magic and a population of hundreds of billions flung across light-years of stars and space? Could any of them? And if not, could they ever belong anywhere again?
After a while he turned away and began walking slowly through the deserted corridors and communications decks toward an access point into a transfer tube that would take him back to the ship’s command section. The floors were worn by years of treading feet, the corners of the walls abraded and smoothed by the passings of innumerable bodies. Every mark and score had its own tale to tell of some event that had occurred somewhere in the course of all those years. Would all that now be forgotten?
In some ways he felt that it already bad been. The Shapieron was in high orbit over Thurien, and most of its occupants had been taken down to accommodations prepared for them on the surface. There had been no public celebrations or welcoming ceremonies; the fact that the ship had been intercepted still had to be concealed. Only a handful of Thuriens were aware that Garuth and his people existed at all.
Shilohin was waiting on the Command Deck when he arrived, studying information on one of the displays. She looked around as he approached. “I had no idea just how complex the operation to intercept the ship was,” she said. “Some of the physics is quite remarkable.”
“How so?” Garuth inquired.
“Eesyan’s engineers created a composite hyperport-a dual-purpose toroid that functioned as an entry port in one direction and an exit in the other at the same time. That was how they made the substitution so quickly: the dummy came out of one side as we went into the other. But to control it, they had to get their timing down to picoseconds.” She paused and gave him a searching look. “You seem sad. Is something wrong?”
He gestured vaguely in the direction he had just come from. “Oh, it’s just . . . walking through the ship . . . empty, with nobody around. It takes some getting used to after so long.”
“Yes, I know.” Her voice fell to an understanding note. “But you shouldn’t feel sad. You did what you promised. They will all have their own lives to live again soon. It will be for the better.”
“I hope so,” Garuth said.
At that moment zoa~c spoke. “I’ve just received another message through VISAR: Calazar is free now and says he’ll see you as soon as you’re ready. He suggests meeting at a planet called Queeth, approximately twelve light-years from here.”