Chad murmured, “I was also told, confidentially, that in an environmental sense, even the predators were working to our eventual advantage. Habitat destruction is way, way down and people are talking about reclaiming eroded land rather than wiping out the last few forests in places like Madagascar. There has also been a renewed interest in population limitation, and that’s something I didn’t think we’d see in my lifetime.”
They went on reading, making notes, until they had to rest because it was becoming impossible to go on. Their eyes wouldn’t focus. Their attention wavered.
Chiddy made his sighing sound again, which he had been doing a good deal of. “Normally the umquah push bodies together, just as they push planets and stars together, but when bodies move in total emptiness, the ship must generate forces to help the bodies resist disintegration. It is easier when bodies are at rest, not laboring either mentally or physically. It would be sensible to rest.”
Benita agreed. She and Chad ate something and slept a long time, and read a bit more, and slept a bit more, and conferred with one another in whispers, and read parts of the journal over again, until suddenly and all at once the hull window opened or transmuted or whatever it did, as Benita thought, and they got a look at the Earth from space.
“It’s like a sapphire pendant around the throat of the sky, so beautiful,” said Benita, thinking of predators and people she cared about and all the threats and commotions that were sure to come.
The hull went solid again. In only a moment, they heard Sasquatch woofing, and they were home.
Benita asked what day it was.
Chiddy referred to a complicated little device hanging on the wall or bulkhead or hull and pronounced it to be Tuesday, at eight o’clock in the morning. They had been gone only a week.
Chad left immediately, in pursuance of the plans they had made during the journey. Benita took a few moments to assure Sasquatch that she was home, that she still loved him, and that he was a good dog, then went downstairs to thank Simon for taking care of him and to ask what had happened while they’d been away.
“For five days, zip, zilch, nada, nil,” he said. “No more mysterious deaths. No more countries or cities disappearing. No shootings, no turf wars, no nothing. Peace and tranquility.” He gave her a piercing look. “Then, suddenly, two days ago, all hell broke loose.”
“What?” she cried. “What do you mean?”
“The newspapers had blanks in them. That was the first-thing. Certain phrases just didn’t appear!”
“Like?”
“Like ‘paid his debt to society,’ or ‘took responsibility for the bombing.’ Or in a quote from some prominent churchman, I forget who, talking about famines, ‘We have to provide for the millions who are yet to be born.’ I mean, that’s what he said on TV, but when it came out in the paper, it was a blank except for the words, ‘We have to? Why?’ in parentheses. Well, everyone was in fits about that, claiming government censorship or political interference with the free press, and then to top the day off, the predators came back. They announced it on TV. They said the Confederation would shortly confirm their right to be here. They told us they were hunting, starting now. They said the Pistach no longer have the moral authority to keep them out. There’ve been . . . well, you can imagine what there’ve been. Political fallout is the worst of it. The actual deaths don’t amount to many, but my God, Benita . . .
“Oh, Lord,” she whispered. “Those races . . . they knew. They were all primed to return, weren’t they? I just know they were helping T’Fees all along. Chiddy wondered how in heaven they got access to all the ships and weapons they had. I’ll bet T’Fees promised them he would cause a revolution on Pistach!”
Simon stared at her, owl eyed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, though I’m sure it must be extremely interesting. Are you allowed to tell me anything aboutyour last few days?”