Patron of the Arts

. to become a kind of guide. Could that mural help me?

I thought about that in the weeks to come, as my team patiently built a background of experience with the transporter. We could aim the beam with some degree of accuracy, or at least we could hit the same spot more than once. The trouble was we didn’t know whether that spot was down the block, two star systems over—or across the galaxy or across the universe. In theory it could be any of those. We could shoot blind, but with accuracy. What we needed were eyes. I was beginning to think I knew how it could be done. There was only one way to find out.

Bowie stood with me at Station Two’s cargo hatch, watching as they transferred the big stasis cylinder to the shuttle. We didn’t have much to say to each other that hadn’t been said. The shuttle crew disappeared into the hold, except for one who motioned to me. I turned to Bowie and we looked at each other for a moment, the lights and the stars glistening on the curving faceplates. “Well, so long, boss,” he said. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, Bowie,” I said. Thank you.”

“Look,” he said, “about what you did for me, I—”

“Forget it. I won’t be needing it and you might enjoy it.”

“Uh . . . okay, boss.”

“Let’s get a move on, huh?” The crewman gestured again from the hatch. I shoved off and went down a safety line and into the shuttle. I felt the clang of the hatch through my feet, and then we were moving silently away from the station.

“Clear seventeen for Libertad.”

“Plane four, spoke ninety. Watch it out by the Chekov, Jake, they had some kind of spillage.”

“Right. Seventeen out.”

We passed close to a cluster of ship’s cores and I could see the welders installing framing around the Steinmetz and the Anthony Coogan, fastening them to the main cluster. Another group going out for asteroid ships. The Solar System was being tamed; the big adventures were now routine assignments.

The shuttle detoured around the old Einstein, still in service, and gnarled with modifications. Beyond it was the gambling ship Eros, and the Lao- tzu, now just a supply ship, but once a history-making vessel. The Libertad was out near the edge. I gave only part of my attention to the transfer of the stasis cylinder. What I was really gazing at was old Earth, over my head, looking blue and ruffled with white.

“Goodbye,” I said, and went into the ship.

Nova ran across the churned sand and threw herself into my arms. I fell laughing back against the sandcat as I kissed her. “It’s very hard to laugh and kiss at the same time,” she said, “so shut up.”

We went into the lock and along to the Sunstrum dome, where I told them everything. Or as least as much as I could explain, which left out a lot.

“I want to go,” Nova said. I saw her parents exchange looks and sad little sighs.

“I don’t know if I can go, yet,” I said.

“Of course you can,” she said with certainty. “I have confidence in you.”

Li Wing smiled at me. “I suppose you must try,” Sven said.

“Of course he must,” said Nova. “It will be terrific!”

“If it works . . .“ said Sven Sunstrum, “if it really works, it will change everything. We can go anywhere!”

I nodded. But I didn’t want to go just anywhere.

“I’ll go with you tomorrow,” Nova said.

We came toward the Star Palace with the setting sun behind it, and the big crownlike structure glowed like the enormous jewel that it was. I parked the sandcat at the base, near the steps, and we climbed down.