The Disinherited (33 page)

"From what Tarlann has told us, it's been dead for a long time. A rotting corpse in armor, polluting the galaxy." She shuddered. "I wonder if we'll ever encounter any of those 'component parts' after we start exploring through the new displacement point in earnest?"

They were silent. Like everyone else in the system, they were still adjusting to the news that one of the survey ships had found a displacement point in a region of Tareil's outer system where none had been before—a telling confirmation of Varien's theory. A well-armed squadron had cautiously transited it, to find an unoccupied system, heretofore unvisited, with two more displacement points leading no one knew where.

"We'll find out," DiFalco finally said. "Of course, given the small percentage of stars that have displacement points at any given time, the odds are against it. And, of course, we have to get back on our feet here on Raehan before we can launch any extensive exploration program."
A program which will drain resources and talent from the search for Sol
, he did not add. Aloud: "I think we'll want to proceed cautiously in displacement point exploration from now on. We'll never really be able to trust them again, or let ourselves get too dependent on them. Your father's right; we don't know whether the new displacement alignments will last ten millennia or ten weeks."

"Still," Aelanni insisted, "we must explore these new displacement connections. If there
is
a surviving fragment of the Korvaash Unity at the other end of a displacement chain, we need to know it. And . . . one of those chains might lead back to the vicinity of Sol."

He looked at her sharply. He hadn't considered that. "Yeah. Who knows? Maybe Sol itself has one or more displacement points now. Maybe
they'll
find
us
eventually! And maybe . . ." He held her eyes with his and spoke the thought that no one else had been allowed to hear.

"And maybe it doesn't really matter very much. All of us have begun building new lives here or on Terranova. I wonder if the inevitable return to Earth was ever anything more than an assurance we needed to give ourselves, a kind of justification for what we were doing? I, at least, had to present it to myself as a way of saving my country from itself." He paused and, with a kind of purgative rush, pushed relentlessly on with thoughts he had not shared even with her, nor even with himself. "Maybe I was just whistling in the dark about that. Oh, Earth will endure, in the long run. But as for my country . . . I don't know. I can see now that I came to manhood in its Indian summer, which I mistook for springtime. If it survives to play a part in the future, it won't be in any form I'll recognize. There'll be just enough familiarity to hurt." He gave a wry grin. "Listen to me! I sound like Varien!"

She smiled at him with the gentleness of strength under the guidance of loving wisdom. "But we'll keep searching for Sol, of course. We have to try. For you to not try would be self-betrayal. And yet . . . you're right. It doesn't really matter very much. For you
have
saved what was best of what your country once was—yours and Sergei's. You've saved it by bringing it here. It isn't dead; it's scattered among the stars for all time! Nothing can kill it now! It will live regardless of what your people manage to do to themselves on Earth."

For a long time he gazed at her in the starlit dimness, wishing he could put into words what was in his heart but happy in the knowledge that he didn't need to. All he said was: "I hope you're right. And, yes, we have to try."

Suddenly her eyes blinked and she took on the attentive look that he had learned heralded the arrival of a message via her implant communicator. Then her features awoke in pure joy.

"The ship is about to dock!"

They looked outward through the transparency, seeking a glimpse. But for an instant DiFalco's eyes strayed downward to the central well and the darkened world below. And as he looked, Tareil broke blindingly over Raehan's edge, flooding the lounge with light.

Arm in arm, they stood watching the ship approach, its silvery flanks reflecting the light of their home sun.