Heaven Chronicles

“That was a long chance,” Wadie said. “You'd have been a long time gettin' home if what we saw is all the propellant you've got left.”

“I know. Even without a battle, it would take us twenty megasecs to get back to Outermost—if our life- support systems held out. And then we'd freeze our asses off on that snowball, waitin' for a fuel shipment to get us to the inner Harmony.” Nakamore scratched his chin, looking tired. “But we took on food and air down on Lansing.”

Shadow Jack pushed past Betha's shoulder to the camera.“Why didn't you just rip the tent and kill 'em quick, you bastard?”

Nakamore shrugged. “Boy, you're all pirates to me. But we didn't take that much. Look on it as a trade for the hydrogen you stole from the Harmony.”

“Where's my mother?” Bird Alyn cried suddenly, shrill with anguish. “What did you do to my mother?”

Nakamore peered at her blankly; Betha saw comprehension come to him. “So … your mother's goin' to have a stiff jaw for a few hundred kilosecs. But aside from that she's better off than you are—or we are—right now. Speakin' of which: Captain Torgussen, you have my permission to off-load those gas canisters into a low orbit around Lansing. Then I recommend all our ships move out a few hundred kilometers into space. When the Demarchy forces arrive the fireworks'll be lethal over quite a volume; there's no reason why Lansing should be part of it. Somebody might as well get somethin' out of this.” He turned away, issuing soundless orders.

“Thank you,” Betha said. She saw the curious smile still on Wadie's face as he watched the screen. “What is that man? I don't understand him.”

Wadie turned toward her, and the smile grew gentle. “Sanity hasn't entirely disappeared from Heaven, Betha. Not even from the Rings.… Raul is a decent man; but more than that, he's not stupid. I told you his brother never won a chess game from me. In all the time I spent in the Rings, I won only two games from Raul. He may still have some surprises left.”

Betha rubbed her arms. “All I know is that he intentionally infuriated the Demarchy to the point where they'll never be satisfied until they see us all in hell. Whatever he thinks he's doing, I don't like being his pawn.”

The Ranger moved slowly out from Lansing. Betha watched it growing smaller below them, a world of elvish beauty, rising and falling in soft undulations beneath a transparent film of plastic spotted with milky patchwork. Trees reached upward toward the tent like sprays of lace, fragile fountains of leaves spilling over fields of ripening grain … and fields of dying grass. She saw the velvet green of parklands, still well watered … and the peeling mud of dried marshes. The people below moved in a dream ballet among airy minarets and pillared buildings of state, on the world that had once been the symbol of Heaven's splendid extravagance. The last world she would ever see.… She glanced at Clewell's still face, his closed eyes, where he drifted in his seat listening for the Demarchy's response. Afraid of the stillness, she looked away again, stroked Rusty's purring, clinging form while she tried to picture the other beloved faces already lost to her and the homeworld none of them would ever see again. There was no comfort now, no satisfaction, in this ultimate revenge that Heaven would inflict on itself in retribution for their deaths and her own. A terrible weariness settled over her, the futility of the last few weeks, the last four years.

“Betha …” Wadie kept his eyes on the screen. “I don't know how to save this ship. But I think I know how to save our lives. We can leave the Ranger, use the Lansing 04 to take us down to Lansing. All Nakamore wants an end to is the ship, not our lives. If we use our suits we can all make it.”

“No.” Betha wrapped her arms across the aching muscles of her stomach. “I won't leave the Ranger. But yes, the rest of you, get into your suits and go. There's no reason for you to stay; at least save yourselves.”

“What do you mean, you won't leave this ship?” Wadie pushed back from the screen, caught her chair arm. “It's just a ship, Betha; it doesn't control your life. You aren't chained to it.”

She shook her head. “You still don't understand, do you? After all this time. This is my ship. I was part of its design, and part of its construction. Its crew were the people I loved; this journey meant everything to us, the future of our world.… Everything about it binds me to my people, my past, my home. I can't leave it. I don't want to lose everything, I don't want to live forever in the place where it happened. I don't want to live like that.”

“Now who's indulging in the ultimate selfishness?”

Her mouth tightened. “It's not going to hurt anyone but me”—realizing, as she saw his face, that that wasn't true.

“Well, what about … what about Clewell?”

“What about me?” Clewell opened his eyes, irritably, at the communications board. “I have no intention of leaving the Ranger for that overgrown cinder down there.”

“Dammit, you're just makin' her more stubborn. Why the hell don't you tell her she's wrong?”

“She's my wife, not my child. She has a right to make her own decision. And so do I.… I've lived too long already if I've lived to see this day. My body already knows the truth.” He closed his eyes again. “Now let me do my job; monitoring the Demarchy is hard enough as it is at this distance.”

“May it do us some good.” Wadie pulled himself back to the panel, massaged the cramped muscles of his neck. “All right, then.… I'll stay too. I guess I've earned the right. I lost everythin' I ever valued because of this ship.”

Betha froze her expression, willed emotion from her voice. “You won't blackmail me into changing my mind, Wadie.”

He bowed solemnly. “Not my intent. Allow me the privilege of making my own decision, since you expect me to accept yours. I'd rather die a martyr than a traitor.”

She sighed, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. Thank you. “All right, then. So only two will be going to Lansing.”

Bird Alyn raised her head from Shadow Jack's shoulder, drifting, cradled in his arms. “No. Betha, we're not goin'.”

“Now, listen—”

“No,” Shadow Jack said. “We did what we wanted to do for Lansing. But there's nothin' anybody can do for us. We'd rather be—together—now, for a little while, than be apart forever.” He glanced at the doorway.

“I see.” She nodded once, barely hearing her own voice. “Come here, then, both of you.” They drifted forward obediently. Betha worked a golden band from one finger of each of her hands. Reaching out, she took their own left hands, one at a time, slipped a ring over a thin straight finger, a thin crooked one. She joined the hands to keep the rings from floating free. “By my authority as captain of this ship, I pronounce you husband and wife.… May your love be as deep as the darkness, as constant as the sun.”

Their hands clung to her own for a moment; she felt Shadow Jack's trembling. She turned away, heard them leave the room. Clewell's eyes touched her face in a caress. “Pappy, get off the radio a minute. We've got to leave those people some hydrogen.…”

There were seventeen hundred seconds until encounter.

Three hundred kilometers away now, Lansing was a greenish, mottled crescent on the darkness. Far enough away, Betha hoped, to survive whatever fires must burn across Heaven. On all sides emptiness stretched, filling the light-years to the distant stars. And the Ranger had been built to bridge those distances, at speeds close to that of light itself. But it would never cross them again … it lay stranded like a beached cetoid on the desolate shores of Heaven, trapped by primitive ships with primitive weapons in the ultimate irony of defeat.

“Five hundred seconds,” Wadie said. Rusty curled serenely in the crook of his arm and washed a protruding foot.

Betha lit her pipe, inhaled the familiar, soothing odor of the smoke. “That's when the first ship will pass; they're strung out at about one-hundred-second intervals. But it doesn't matter … we can't comply with MacWong's demand now.”

Clewell chuckled suddenly, oblivious.

“God, Pappy, what in hell are you laughing at?”