Starfarers by Poul Anderson. Chapter 37, 38, 39, 40

“(Is the conflict over?)” Ivan asked.

“(Yes. Brent is dead. So are Ruszek and your friend Cleland.)”

Anticipating a visit, the captors had given parleurs to their captives. Simon signaled from ens tether, “(We believed all of you were our friends.)”

“(We three did not do this willingly,)” Ivan said. “(There seemed to be no alternative.)”

“(There is,)” Nansen replied. “(You must accept it.)”

“(We shall.)”

“(You will give no further trouble?)”

Ivan met the human gaze. The scent from en was like autumn winds over rain-wet dead leaves. “(None. The cost of resistance is too high. We will do as we are told.)”

“Can we trust them?” Zeyd wondered.

Leo heard. Either en had that much English, or en guessed the meaning. Screen and attitude spelled: “(You can trust us. We do not fear for ourselves. We never did. Achieve your desire, mad ones, terrible ones, then bring us home and go away and leave Tahir in peace. Is that a correct price for our help?)”

“(I mourn for what might have been,)” Emil said.

Nansen blinked and squinted. Crow’s-feet spread from the corners of his eyes. Fingers on touchboard wavered slightly. “(It may be yet. In spite of everything, someday it may be.)”

“Unto Almighty God we commend the souls of our brothers departed….”

Nansen read the service through to the end. His crew responded according to their faiths, or kept silence.

At a signal, robots obeyed their programming. From the common room, the humans saw, on the screen, a probe leave the ship. Starlight touched two sheeted forms lashed to its sides.

It took on velocity and swiftly vanished, bound for the black hole. There was no other grave.

Nansen led the way to the wardroom, through the gap where the door had been. The room itself was cleaned and restored, bright and comforting. The servitors had prepared a buffet. A feast, however modest, is also part of a funeral.

He found himself raising a goblet of white wine to ring on Dayan’s. His reserve cracked. “Adios, hermanos,” broke from his throat.

She gave him the strength he groped for: “Yes. And tomorrow we’ll get on with our work.”

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