The Sirens of Space (28 page)

The music stopped, and the silence caught
Hollenbach’s attention. “Please be seated, and fasten your seat
belts,” a woman’s pleasant voice called over the speaker. It was
hard for him to remember that it was the voice of a computer. “The
ship is preparing to sail.

“
Please be seated....”

The ship shuddered, as her captain engaged
the engines and a tractor beam eased the ship away from the
spaceport. Soon, Hollenbach’s bulky frame pressed lightly into the
side of his chair, as the ship accelerated toward breaking orbit.
Outside the porthole, the black terminator line began consuming the
planet, and two bright moons came into view. Minutes later, New
Babylon was nothing more than a blue point of light, quickly
receding from view as the ship began its leisurely, six-day trip to
Earth. Outside, in all directions, the stars glowed silently.
Rainbow-colored and timeless, they danced across the icy blackness
like an endless field of wildflowers.

“How long
ye be gone this
time, Macey?”

“
Not long. Two or three months at
most, I imagine.”

“
Ye be careful out here.”

“
I will.”

Janey gave Mason a warm hug and handed him a
bag filled with some bread and sausage. “It’ll last ye for the
first few days,” she said. Her eyes moped along the floor of the
hangar as she spoke.

“
There’s plenty of air, and there’s
more in the spare schooner. Ye can radio Nelson or Cifaldi if ye be
startin to run low, or get to feelin lonely.”

“
C’mon, Mason!” Cyrus barked. He
leaned over the gangway, impatience clouding his face. “The stars
can wait forever, but I’ll be damned if I will.” Mason said goodbye
and then ran down the gangplank. He turned at the hatch to wave to
his woman and then disappeared inside the ship.

“
Ye’ll be spoiling her yet, Mason,”
Cyrus said, disapproval creasing his brow. Mason shrugged and
slumped into his seat at the controls.

“
Where we be goin this
time?”

Cyrus chuckled as he engaged the engines.
“East an’ anticenter. We ain’t been there yet. Not in a while,
anyways.”

Mason laughed out loud. “Ain’t many been
that way in a while, Cyrus. Leastways, none without a price on his
head. But if the rumors about Wilkes be right ones, I supposed it
does us good. If he’s back to Pirate’s Alley, I don’t want to be
around when the Cozzies get wind of it.”

“
An ye tell me ye’ve no head for
spacin, Macey,” laughed Cyrus. “To think ye’ve been holdin out on
me the whole time!”

“
What I got is no head for gettin
shot.”

Cyrus mussed his brother’s black hair, then
turned his attention to the helm. Soon, the ship eased away from
its moorings, and disappeared into the emptiness of space.

“Any moment
now,” the
pilot said in his native tongue.

Smiling, Zatar peered over the railing of
the observation platform. He could see the speaker standing at the
control panel with his back to the platform and his body partly
obscured by the molded lounger beside his station. As was typical
for his race, the young Crutchtan pilot had scarcely said a word
for the entire trip, tending silently to his duties while keeping
his emotions locked deep within. Now, as they neared familiar
skies, he had started giving voice to his reports, and Zatar even
thought that he heard the smallest hint of excitement in the very
terseness of the pilot’s commentary.

Of course, Crutchtan reserve found no echo
in his own kind. The entire Veshnan delegation had come to the
platform, to view the passage through the dome overhead. As the
Crutchtans seated themselves comfortably and waited in silence, his
own delegation fairly squealed with delight. It was as if they had
taken it into their heads to let their Crutchtan hosts see the
truth of the common stereotype, the excitable, gaggling Veshnan,
too rapt in the thrill of the living moment to enjoy it in peace
and quiet.

Zatar turned to look behind him, at the
skies they were leaving. He could not see the star that had given
them light until so recently; its brightness had disappeared from
view many days earlier. The memories of the frozen, dusty land that
had lent them its shelter would take longer to fade. Everywhere,
heaven’s blackness was the same; the calm tranquility was eternal
and unvarying, and yet he was looking at Terran skies. It touched
him with profound wonder to know that as he was seeing the alien
stars of a strange race, the Terrans found comfort in the same
heavens.

“
The Great Divide is passed,” called
the pilot into the speaker, his voice echoing throughout the ship.
“We are home.”

Cheers rang over the observing
platform. The Veshnan women hugged each other and sang songs of
celebration; Zatar cried out in joy. The Crutchtans rose and
clasped their friends by the shoulders, mildly protesting when the
Veshnans came to embrace them more warmly than their ways allowed
for
Lsh’Gelunsch
—or “Ones who
are Not Mates.”

Zatar looked overhead, from one side of the
Observation Dome to the other. He could not explain the difference:
the black sky held the same stars, and looked no different than
before, but he felt the difference in his soul. No longer were they
living amid strangers; now, they were among friends.

Glancing down from the platform toward the
ship’s controls, Zatar saw the pilot’s face raised toward the
arching dome. Like all of his kind, the Crutchtan’s countenance
looked featureless and inexpressive. And yet quietly glistening on
his cheeks, tears flowed from the young man’s eyes.

* * *

“Commander Ashton?”

“
Engines are fully primed, Captain.
Mr. Van Horn reports all clear.”

“
Mr. Underwood?”

“
Ishtar Command gives us clearance for
departure, sir. At our pleasure.”

“
Amid-deck hatches are secure,
Captain.”

“
Thank you, Mr. Ashton. You may
deactivate the grapplers whenever you are ready.”

“
Yes, sir.”

“
Mr. Underwood, sound the clearing
horn.”

“
Aye, aye, Captain.”

The alarm sounded throughout the ship,
and soon loud cheers rose on all decks as the crew felt
d’Artagnan
begin to move beneath
their feet. Slowly, as the charging engines sent shudders through
the entire ship, the tractor beam eased them away from the base and
into the nothingness of space.

The Dock
Twenty-three
Observation Deck was swollen with well-wishers and onlookers but
the crowd was quiet, almost lifeless. Occasional laughter split the
soft murmurs of conversation, and a few children played merrily in
the playpit at the base of the deck. Most sat and watched in
silence.

Silence greeted the ship’s first appearance
in the window plate; and silence followed her slow movement across
their field of view. Like a gray ghost looming in the starlight,
the great ship banked gracefully to starboard before gliding off
into the Big Black. Stillness lingered on the deck until the ship
was too faint to see any longer, and the well-wishing throng
departed.

But a few stayed behind. Some tearful,
some dry-eyed and stoic, they gazed into the distance, wistfully
savoring the last flickers of
d’Artagnan
’s running lights. Most swore that
they’d never again catch themselves aching after a fading point of
light. Few remembered that they’d said the same thing
before.

Ahead, the monitors
showed
the glowing red storms of the Ishtari Belt. Behind them, the
starbase hung large in the blackness, its solar panels reflecting
the yellow rays of Ishtar’s sun, the spokes of the docks reaching
into the heavens

“
Nearing the end of controlled space,”
Jeremy reported. “We should be clear in another two
minutes.”

“
Thank you, Mr. Ashton,” said the
captain. “Please let me know when we’re twenty seconds out.
Helm?”

“
Engines purring merrily at one-eighth
capacity. Efficiency readings are smack in the middle of the
dial.”

Leaning back in the command chair, Cook
closed his eyes and sighed. For the first time in ages, he was
totally relaxed, totally at ease. Not that he was under any
illusions about the future. Space always had a way of making things
go wrong, he smiled. Whatever problems they had in store for them
would probably arise at the worst possible time. And he suspected
that his headaches were far from over. In fact, they were probably
just beginning.

But not right now. It seemed forever since
he’d felt so free of pressures and constraints. Today not even the
croakers and worrywarts in the control tower were going to stand in
his way.

“
Helm, increase thrusters to
one-half.”

“
Sir?” Janet worried. She’d seen him
this way before, and it usually meant trouble.

A
uthor’s
Note

Those interested in exploring
the historical context of the ensuing chapters can find
information about the era from a variety of sources. Unfortunately,
most of those sources are not yet in print.

To aid readers curious about the years to
come, the Author has convinced the Publisher to share some
information about what the Future may hold in store for our
relatives, taken directly from the prize-winning work of a renowned
historian.

Excerpts from Toomey,
From Earth to Isis:
The Rise of Humanity.
(New Alexandria, cc:343-0874; 3191 OE;
1055 Is)(Reprinted by permission of the author):

From the Introduction to Volume
VI:
THE CONFLAGRATION

On this side of the vast Crutchtan Cloud a
mighty empire once stretched westward, reaching into the heart of
Greater Isis. Like many nations of pre-cosmic antiquity, its
divergent cultures were noted chiefly for their inability to unite
long enough to apply the most obvious solutions to the simplest
problems of social policy, and for a stubborn unwillingness among
their people to let the pressing concerns of the day intrude upon
their daily lives.