StarDestroyer.Net BBS

This part's a bit shorter than the others, and is so by design. I was going to cliffhang this part, anyway, but then I came up with the idea of the double cliffhanger, so I decided to roll with it. Enjoy!

* * *

It was eight hours later, and Tras and Cho had departed for their tribe. They had done so only after extracting the strongest of promises from Asin that he and Jovas would find and follow them. To facilitate this Jovas had supplied Asin with a tiny transponder, that the latter surreptitiously adhered to Tras' skin during the second round of interviews.

But that was behind them, now. Tras and Cho were gone. Asin and Jovas had gotten precious little sleep in the past thirty-six hours, so this was naturally the most urgent of their needs, and accomplished in a restorative four hours. Having accomplished that, the order of the day was clear: compare and contrast their findings and begin creating their preliminary report. This, they did in the pilot's room, where Jovas could most easily access anything Asin desired.

A pair of Stimdrinks set aside for both of them, Jovas began: "I think we need to address something, Asin, before we really start this report. We've been dancing around this issue for over a week now, and that is this: is this planet Terra?"

Asin frowned. "Jovas, I honestly haven't given it any thought. I've been quite wrapped up in...well, everything else."

"Do you still hold to your assertion that it is highly unlikely that this planet is Terra?"

"Yes. I feel that insufficient evidence has been advanced to support a positive claim."

Jovas grinned. Their tones were becoming more and more academic. Their ultimate course would be inevitable, so Jovas simply sped things up by saying: "I assert the opposite, and I feel that I have enough evidence to demonstrate that Earth is indeed Terra, in that it is where the human species evolved."

Asin countered, "That is an extraordinary claim. I hope you have extraordinary evidence to support it."

"With your help, I think I can produce just that. Please, retain the position of the skeptic. I want this to be as rigorous as allowable in such an informal atmosphere."

Asin nodded silently, and Jovas' eyes flicked back to the main viewer. "We begin with coincidence. First, consider the known facts: there exists a planet on which humanity evolved. This planet is called Terra. No other planet listed in the GRE shares this name, which is extremely odd, given the number of worlds in the galactic throng.

"Further, it is a known fact that Terra is in the Sirius Sector, the same sector in which we currently find ourselves. With this in mind, we can examine the planet below, Earth."

"First, I must object," Asin said. "It is not a know fact that Terra is in the Sirius Sector. The primary source listing said 'fact' is a children's book. Its veracity must be verified against some sort of reference material to be considered acceptable. Moreover, we cannot hang a time line to this reference. Terra was in the Sirius Sector...where? And when? The Galaxy isn't standing still, you know. Over time, were it near the edge of the sector, it could have drifted out of what we presently define as Sirius, even taking into account the fact that sector borders are redrawn from time to time to reflect this drift!"

"Noted," Jovas replied. "I request that we accept this fact's veracity conditionally. I believe that further evidence will render it true."

Asin paused to sip at his Stimdrink. "Very well," he assented finally, "continue."

"The planet's name is Earth, or so we were able to infer by way of discovery of a primitive landing craft on the planet's satellite. At first, it was assumed to be a long-lost colony world, but the given data fits this explanation poorly. Asin, what is the most populous world in the Galaxy?"

"Capital," Asin answered immediately. "As the seat of the Alliance government, it practically has to be. Only Capital's planet-girdling city can support the massive central government."

"And its population?"

"Well, it was somewhat depopulated during the Great Sack, when the Zealots were overthrown, but it is now stable at 1.6 trillion."

"And how is it that this planet supports such a population?"

"It doesn't," Asin answered flatly. "An unending stream of food, water, and manufactured goods is brought in by a fleet of over one hundred thousand ships. Power is beamed to ground stations from enormous orbital power plants. There is a titanic infrastructure keeping Capital running."

"Would it be safe to say that a protracted break in this chain of supply would be catastrophic for Capital and its people?"

"Yes, it would." Such sieges have happened in the past, and have been incredibly short. Mass death occurs somewhere between four days and a week, so capitulation is never far off."

"Very good. Then, let us turn back to Earth." The main viewer flicked easily to an orbital view. "This world is unlike any other known in the Galaxy, for its inhabitants exist in the most primitive conditions imaginable. We find them without any technology. No agriculture. No written language. No domesticated animals. No hallmarks of modernity whatsoever!

"We first theorized that this planet has been unmolested and left to fall for upwards of twenty thousand years. Genetic evidence obtained, however, proves beyond any doubt that this planet has been continuously inhabited and unmolested for at least one hundred thousand years, or the length of recorded history. Our theory that this planet was an ancient colony no longer fits the observed facts, so we must construct a new theory to fit the facts, particularly the fact that the humans on this planet exist outside the Galactic genealogy."

"And you suppose that equating Earth to Terra is such an explanation?" Asin asked.

"I do. Further, I think that the regression seen supports this, as the planet below is an analogue to what Capital would ultimately become without its infrastructure. We must consider it a possible occurrence."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that's the simplest theory," Asin said. "A much simpler theory is that the Galactic genealogy is merely incomplete. There existed other pockets of humanity outside of the Bottleneck. Earth is such a pocket. Perhaps Earthers are descendants of a marooned early interstellar ship. Considering the extremely low population of the human species at the time, it's not unreasonable to think that any habitable world would be seeded by a few individuals, with those that sprouted later rejoining the the throng to intermarry. This behavior, after all, holds today. Is it not Galactic law that humans must select a mate from a world other than their own, to maintain the homogeneity of the species? Earth was, most likely, simply lost. They colony was thought failed and the world, being undesirably hot, was ignored."

"This theory fails to account, then, for the wide distribution of the population," Jovas countered immediately. "If such a colony was founded, why are there populations near both poles? How did they cross, as Tras so deftly puts it, the Hot Lands?"

"I cannot account for this at the moment," Asin offered, "but I nonetheless hold that, given the astronomical odds against actually locating and correctly identifying Terra, my theory accounts for the facts the best."

"I must admit, Asin, that I've been toying with you a bit. I've some new facts that I found in the GRE which are pertinent to this argument."

"Oh?" Asin smiled. "You always had a flair for the dramatic. Well, out with it, then!"

Jovas smiled back easily. "Recall how we translated the text on the plaque found on the satellite. It came from a memorial of a certain general, Qa Solip. I did some research on the man. There is actually a surprisingly large amount of information available on him. As an example, he grew up on a world nearby. It's a scant thirty light years away, as a matter of fact. And old, too. Their oldest written record is more than ninety thousand years old.

"Incidentally, the ancient dialect they once spoke isn't really a dialect; it's actually another language altogether. When the Galactic Hypernet came online some six thousand years ago, it allowed unification of all the dialects of Galactic Standard. Stubbornly, of course, some worlds resisted this, but over time, all worlds the Hypernet reached spoke Galactic Standard. Because we can't fathom their being more than one language, we call anything that differs a "dialect," but in certain cases, the isolation has been so profound that a new language has been formed, bearing little similarity to the original.

"Now, the reason I bring this up is accounting for the General. His language and that of his planet was ancient. Its written aspect is verifiably ninety thousand years old. It's so old, in fact, that it predates all but the oldest form of Galactic Standard, which is known to date to the Bottleneck.

"We must ask ourselves this: the writing on the plaque of the spacecraft on Earth's moon is the same as a ninety thousand year old writing sample on a planet a mere thirty light-years away. Which came first?"

Asin took a moment and finished his Stimdrink. "We cannot determine this unless we know the age of the spacecraft..."

"...which we do," Jovas finished. "I've been sitting on the results for nearly a week now; I didn't even look at them until last night because, well, I forgot about them. Based on the empirical data, the computer has determined the age of the craft to be one hundred and two thousand years old, plus or minus one thousand years, with ninety-nine percent certainty. Therefore, the oldest known language in the Galaxy is not ninety thousand years old, but over one hundred thousand years old, and it originated on the planet below."

Asin was quiet for a moment. Finally: "This evidence is strong, but circumstantial. We don't have an accurate time line of those events. We can't place the Bottleneck accurately enough to determine how exactly all of this happened. And we still don't know for sure if we're in the correct system!"

"Asin, you've played the part of skeptic admirably," Jovas began, "but defeat is at hand. Allow me to share with you the facts that support the theory that Earth and Terra are the same." He paused; perhaps Asin was right, and he did have a flair for the dramatic. No matter; let him indulge!

Jovas' brain implant chirped suddenly. Please view external monitor number six, the ship's voice flashed through his mind sweetly.

"Oh, come on, Jovas!" Asin shouted suddenly, but Jovas quieted him.

"Something's going on outside," Jovas said quickly, and he switched the main viewer to comply with the computer's request.

There, on the main screen, was a crystal-clear view of the area near the gangway of the ship, or where it would be if it weren't raised at the moment. There was no sound, but there didn't need to be; Asin and Jovas recoiled in horror all the same. Cho was there, flailing her arms wildly and stamping the ground. At her feet was her husband, Tras, lying supine, limp, and motionless, and covered in blood.

Oh snap! You are horrible! I was all set to hear that last bit of evidence, and now this? Gah!

Well done, Alferd.

"Get them!" Jovas snapped, rising to his feet. "Bring them to the galley!"

"And what exactly are you doing?" Asin nearly shouted. As he rose, he nearly tripped over the seat.

"Activating the emergency medical protocol," Jovas fired back. "Just get them to the galley!"

Jovas didn't look back to see how quickly Asin was moving, and he crossed the ten meter-long corridor to the galley in about three strides. The doors barely had enough time to part for him, and his momentum carried him to the far wall of the tiny chamber. Using the bulkhead mainly to stop himself, he plunged down and drove his fist into an otherwise mundane panel in the far right corner. Uniquely, it gave way underneath his strike, and a tray was rapidly ejected onto the floor in front of him.

From the tray he fetched an emergency relay, enabling his implant to be used outside the pilot's room. Entering the access code along the side of the device, it activated with a sequence of flashes emitted from one of its ends.

The emergency relay has been activated, the computer's voice flashed inside his brain. Please recite code nine-three to confirm.

"Blue volume seven zero five red red one!" Jovas bellowed. His heart pounded thickly inside his ears.

Thank you! the computer responded cheerily. To activate the emergency medical protocol, please recite code seven-six.

Jovas took a deep breath. "Four one orange nine two four blue eight."

Thank you! DAT will applied in three seconds. Two seconds. One second. Now!

It was fortunate that Jovas was kneeling, because the receiving a DAT was as disorienting as being kicked in the head from behind. He clutched his head with both hands and bent over double, crying out. A raging torrent of sensation roiled through his brain, spinning and spraying over everything he knew, blotting out all but a numbing buzz of words, figures, and diagrams.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Jovas remembered that his name was Jovas. He remembered that Asin was fetching the horribly injured Tras and bringing him to the galley. But, most importantly, he knew how to turn the galley into a medical bay.

Medical emergency! Jovas thought to the computer. Activate: Zero zero zero dread blue zero! Then, he stepped back.

The galley, to be precise, vanished. The food and drink dispensaries disappeared behind bulkheads. The table and chairs were replaced by a two meter long sick bed. Panels and plating revealed half a dozen medical apparatus, each flickering with an internal light as their onboard computers booted to life. And Jovas rested easy in the knowledge that he knew how to operate everything.

Outside, Jovas heard the lift doors open. Immediately, he plunged his hands into a new cavity in the far wall; a disinfectant/sealant was applied to his hands in a fine spray. It dried within half a second, giving him just enough time to turn around and see Asin barge into the room, carrying Tras like a child. Cho followed quickly, too possessed with the state of her husband to marvel at everything around her.

"He's barely breathing," Asin spurted, "and there's so much blood!" He placed Tras on the bed, only then taking a moment to marvel at the transformation in the galley.

"Use the sanitizer," Jovas said calmly, pointing. He went over to the bed and activated the medical indexer via his implant. It emerged from the wall above the bed and fanned out, covering Tras. As this was happening, Jovas affixed monitoring sensors to vital areas of Tras and said, "What happened?"

"Dogs," Asin replied, coming back. "That much I know. Tras managed to fight them off, but not before...they walked most of the way back, until he collapsed. Then she carried him." He looked slightly less terrified than Cho, who had scrunched herself into a corner of the room and was shaking violently, her dirty face streaked with tear tracks.

The indexer finished scanning Tras, and the computer dumped the list of injuries into Jovas' brain. "He's sustained massive tissue damage and blood loss. Amazingly, no broken bones. Pulse is shallow, but stable for now." Automatically, he reached for a nanopaste dispenser. Loading a cartridge into it, he began applying it to the wounds on Tras' shoulders and neck. The steel-blue paste melted into each wound in turn, forming an artificial scab.

"What's that?" Asin asked.

"Nanopaste. Haven't you ever been wounded? The nanites are in suspension in the paste. As directed by the medical indexer, they convert that paste into healthy fl--hold on."

"What, what?" Asin cried out, partially because one of the monitoring screens began to flash red.

"His pulse is accelerating, and his blood pressure is dropping. His hemorrhaging has increased from Class 3 to Class 4. He's bleeding to death." Jovas' own panic was tempered by the DAT, but it was nonetheless there. "I'm going to cook a batch of artificial blood for him."

"Where is he bleeding? I don't see any bleeding!" Asin shouted.

"Internally, somewhere in the torso," Jovas muttered. He slipped a sample of Tras' blood into a the hemogenerator and activated it. It buzzed angrily.

"Invalid sample?" Jovas muttered.

"Invalid?!" Asin roared. "Why?"

"Approximately three percent of people can't take the artificial blood this machine makes. It's only an emergency device; we're not in a hospital," Jovas snapped. The medical indexer alerted him silently. "The indexer has found the site of hemorrhage. I'm going to inject a super-concentrate of nanites into the site to repair the broken blood vessels." He filled up the dermospray with an ominously black substance. "It's a good thing he's unconscious, because this is going to hurt."

Jovas jammed the dermospray into Tras' left side and depressed the injector. With a nearly silent hiss, a few hundred billion nanomachines plunged into the damaged tissues and, receiving instructions from the indexer, quickly sealed the breach.

"We're not clear yet," Jovas muttered. "He still lost too much blood. His heart is having trouble moving around what's left."

"But he can't take the artificial blood!" Asin said. "What can we do?"

Jovas paused a moment, the medical DAT swirling chaotically. "Saline!" he cried out suddenly. "We just need a volume expander." Working quickly, he was able to produce a one-liter bag of pure saline and connect an intraveinous drip.

"Here!" he said, handing it to Asin. "Hold this and keep pressure on it. It should drain within ninety seconds." As Asin did so, Jovas took the time to apply nanopaste the remainder of Tras' wounds. "His heart rate is stabilizing. He's still hypoxic, but his remaining blood should be more able to transport oxygen now." He hooked up a second bag, half-liter bag, the first having been drained. "Same task," Jovas said, eying Asin.

Jovas then turned to Cho, who had urinated on the floor blamelessly. She gave forth the occasional tiny sob, still shivering. Jovas crouched low near her. "Are you hurt?" he asked softly.

She shook her head, but even doing that seemed to make her weep all the harder. "He fought them all," she wailed. "He protected me from the dogs!"

"Tras is very brave," Jovas offered. "But he needs your help. He doesn't have much blood right now, and we can't make more with our magic." Cho sobbed. "But I can give him some of your blood. Will you do that?"

She looked up at Jovas, her eyes suddenly clear. Sniffling, she rose to her full height and nodded. "Yes."

Jovas smiled, and stood up. He went over to to the wall and slid open a storage drawer to obtain the necessary equipment. Asin followed him.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"The medical indexer has access to all of the data the computer does, including the DNA samples of Tras and Cho. It determined that their blood types are the same; she is a compatible donor." Jovas stood and walked back over to Cho.

"Hold out your arm," Jovas said, mimicking the desired action. She complied, and with a deft touch, Jovas swabbed her inner elbow and set up an intravenous line, guided into a vein by the a subtle feedback system build into the cannula's computer. Attaching a smaller vial to thes first, he allowed it to fill up with approximately fifty milliliters of blood. Cho watched with a strange mix of fascination and apprehension. He then attached the larger blood bag and activated the cannula, which automatically opened a valve and began to fill the bag.

"I will not take much," Jovas said in a soothing tone, "but even this will help Tras greatly." Cho bit her lip and blinked back tears, nodding silently.

"The second bag is complete," Asin said. Jovas requested and received updated vital signs of Tras from the ship's computer.

"Good, he's doing much better. He's going to need some injections to prevent infection, and I want to keep him under for the next few hours. Once he receives this blood, though, he should be alright to walk around some. Asin, go to the underdeck. There's a crate in the hold marked 'Passenger Accommodations.' Pull out some bedding for these two; you're going to have roommates."


* * *


Jovas woke Tras up three hours later. While remaining groggy and lethargic, he was aware of his surroundings, so he was at least partially amazed at the interior of the ship. Cho, having herself recovered from donating blood to Tras, wept with joy at seeing her husband conscious again. Tras cried, too, and though Asin would never get him to admit it, Jovas wiped away a tear, as well.

Jovas elevated the bed so that Tras might be more comfortable, and gave him a simplistic version of what had happened. He explained the nanopaste, the blood loss, and the subsequent weakness he would feel. Growing more cognizant by the second, Tras began to nod thoughtfully after each statement from Jovas.

"I want you and Cho to stay with us for some days," Jovas said. "You are still very weak, Tras, and while our magic can heal you, it cannot do so immediately. You will rest here in our home, you will eat our magic foods, and then we will all return to your tribe."

Cho immediately protested. Having tasted her first Stimdrink, she was quite energetic. "But the dogs have tracked us here! And you have no spears or axes!"

"But we have magic," Asin offered. "Magic that will stop the dogs from ever hurting us."

"And other magic," Jovas added. "Dark magic. Frightful magic. Magic enough to kill every dog between here and your tribe. You and Tras will be safe. I promise this."

Wide eyed, the pair nodded silently. "Enough talk," Jovas said, rising. "Tras, I think it would be good if you stood up. It will hurt, and you will feel weak, but we don't have far to go." He looked at Asin.

"Yes!" Asin affirmed. "It's time I showed you where you'll be sleeping while you stay with us."

Gingerly, as many of his abdominal muscles were still shredded, Tras pushed himself upright, grunting only once at at the apparent pain. He pivoted upon his rear and, with Jovas' help, lowered himself to the floor. After a moment, he pushed away Jovas' steadying hand and stood upright, a determined grimace set upon his face. He stepped forward.

"Let's see where we'll sleep," Tras said. Cho appeared at his side silently, and and carefully looped his less injured arm up over her shoulders. Tras did not protest. Asin nodded to Jovas, and he led the pair out of the galley and to his (now their) quarters.

Tras could not help but gawk at Asin's room when he entered. Cho had seen it already some hours before, so she maintained her composure. Asin stepped around his bed and turned to face the pair.

"This is where I sleep. You will be sharing my space for the next few days, while Tras heals. I know you lost your mat, but I have found some things that will be comfortable for you to lie on." He held up one of the blankets he'd procured from the underdeck.

"Where is the sun?" Tras asked. "How will we know when to sleep?"

Asin shrugged. "Sleep when you are tired. You need not obey the sun in this place." Tras nodded, then looked over at Asin's desk. "What is that?"

"That rock," Asin began, stepping over to his desktop computer, "tells me things I might wish to know. It shows me images of distant places and people, and it has markings in it that tell me stories from the old times."

"Strange rock," Cho remarked, "but such is magic."

Asin smiled. It was almost sad how quickly Cho has acclimated herself to the marvels of the ship. One she accepted that magic caused all she saw, it ceased to be, well, magical, Asin thought.

"Now, you must be curious where you may make your...westa," Asin continued unevenly. A sheen of sweat descended from nowhere and landed upon his brow. "We have a rock over here," he said, moving over to the toilet, "that takes it away. You simply sit, and you...go. Tras, you must aim!" he added with a hint of sharpness. Tras laughed, then winced in sudden pain.

"When you are done, touch here," he said, pressing a purple on the wall near the toilet. "You will be cleaned and dried. Touch this to send your westa away. Then, you place your hands in here," he put his hands inside the sanitizer, "and you are done. The magic is complete."

"Now," Asin continued, "you must also bathe while in our home. We have a place where the rain pours in at our whim; this is where you will bathe." He stepped over to the shower stall and opened it; the door slid back into the wall. Tras and Cho watched with a pleasant sort of curiosity. "Press this red part, and the water will pour. Then, a strange mist will cover you and take all the dirt from your bodies. Finally, more water will cleanse you completely.

"Now," Asin said, "Cho, I think you should try."

Cho nodded, and made to move forward, but Tras stopped her. Silently, she stepped back, and Tras tottered forward. "Let me," he said with remarkable conviction. He stepped inside the stall, supporting himself against one of the walls. After a moment's hesitation, he activated the shower.

Asin left the door open so that Cho might see the water cascade down and not be frightened. The multitude of nanopaste-sealed wounds were waterproof, Jovas had told Asin earlier, having had time enough to set properly.

Tras turned his face up into the stream of water. "It's warm!" he cried with glee. "Like a summer storm!" He gargled with some of the water, spraying it all over the wall. After a few moments, the water ceased and the soap sprayed him from all directions.

"Don't be alarmed, Tras," Asin called out. "This will clean you. Try not to eat it, for it tastes bad." He passed the now pink, foamy man a swatch of bathing fiber. "Rub your skin with this, but take care by your wounds. They will hurt."

Tras nodded and set himself to work. He was remarkably thorough, even taking care to wash less obvious parts of his body: behind his ears, his back, and genitals. Finally, the rinse period began and Tras luxuriated as the soap fell from him. When the shower ended, Asin handed him a towel. Needing no explanation, he took it and began drying himself off. "Wonderful!" he remarked. He tottered back out. "What was that called?"

"A shower." Asin said evenly, wondering if the word had been translated.

"Shower?" Tras repeated in the customary perfect Standard. "Like light rain?"

Asin nodded, then moved over to his dresser. "You will also be more comfortable in some clothes. That is what I wear," he added, "clothes." He pulled one or his short-sleeved shirts out. "I will mend it so that it will fit better, but I think they will suffice for you and Cho."

Asin did this while Cho bathed. Now both cleaned, their hair shimmered lustrously, and their tanned skin fairly glowed. Save Tras' numerous wounds, they looked remarkably healthful, and their odor, while not unpleasant before, was vastly reduced. As Tras and Cho bedded down for some much-needed sleep, Asin watched them contentedly. It was remarkable how fond he'd become of them. His mind drifting, he wondered when, after the mission had ended, he would see them again. As he turned back to his desk to work a bit on the report, he hoped it would be soon.

Gah! More update, but no end to one cliffhanger! Damn you and your superb writing!

Alright folks, we're coming into the home stretch. There are only a few parts after this one. Sorry this took so long to get out. For some reason, this part was like pulling teeth to write.


* * *


Asin found Jovas in the main chamber of the underdeck, sitting crosslegged on the floor, an assortment of tools and parts spread out before him. He was humming what was probably part of Detritus song as he worked, and didn't notice Asin until the latter waved his hand in front of his face.

"Oh!" he started. "I've been rather absorbed. What's going on?"

Asin shrugged. "Nothing. I wished to see what was occupying your time, and you weren't on the main deck, so..."

"Well, I'm modifying my blaster." He held up the partially disassembled weapon. "For the journey back to the tribe, you see."

"Why?"

"There are two aspects of the weapon that I want to modify. One is the type of blast it issues. A standard bolt throws off a lot of excess heat, so much so that a missed shot could ignite the grass. I don't want to burn half the steppe down because a dog dodged my shot, so I'm installing a device which modifies the bolt's characteristics, so that most of the heat bleeds off as it's fired. The result is a bolt which causes extreme concussive damage, but shouldn't ignite anything."

"Interesting. Why is this not a standard feature on blasters?"

"Because energy is conserved." Jovas smiled knowingly. "A blaster bolt generates a lot of waste heat when it is created. When the bulk of the heat is carried with the bolt, it doesn't stay in the weapon. This means that the weapon can be fired longer without overheating. By keeping the heat in the weapon, I'm drastically reducing my fire rate. There are active and passive systems that can mitigate this to a point, but nonetheless, I would wager that I could fire two dozen shots at most before the weapon will automatically shut off and enter an active cooling cycle."

Asin watched Jovas work for a few minutes. "What's the other?"

He looked up. "I'm sorry?"

"The other aspect that you're modifying?"

"Ah, yes! That would be a somewhat cosmetic choice. See, blasters come standard with a dampening device that reduces the report issued when the weapon is fired. I'm removing this device, so that each shot will be extremely loud."

Asin nodded thoughtfully for a moment, then realized that that made absolutely no sense. "Wait, why?"

Jovas shrugged. "The computer suggested that the dogs would be frightened by loud, unfamiliar noises. I suspect that a loud, unfamiliar noise, coupled with one of them exploding, should make thing think twice about attacking us. Speaking of us, where are they?"

"In my quarters, watching their shows." Jovas gave forth a small chuckle.

The last four days had certainly been interesting. Tras and Cho, though amazingly primitive, were happily quite malleable to life aboard the ship. They used the toilet, they showered, and they proudly wore Asin's shirts (though they were so large on the small creatures that they served to cover their gentials, as well). When it came time to sleep, they slept contentedly, and perhaps fortunately, Tras was too wounded to attempt sex.

Jovas had shown them the pilot room, taking care to censor any blatant errata that would suggest that he and Asin hailed from outer space. He showed them the computer's log of the tracking device on Tras' skin, how it showed their journey to the northeast, precisely where they were attacked by the dogs, and the return trip.

Most interestingly, Asin had introduced them to the entertainment network. Broadcast over the Galactic Hypernet, it was the Alliance's fervent attempt at re-homogenizing Galactic culture. Again censoring shows which had to do with space, he found Tras and Cho rapidly become uninterested in the remaining programs, complaining that they were too complex and fast-moving to follow, and the vocabulary used was too varied to translate properly. They did, however, love the advertisements, for they were short and simple, and seemed to always end well. Even if Tras and Cho had no idea what the product being sold was, they found the extolling of its virtues and its joyous acquisition to be utterly wonderful. Asin found himself customizing his viewer to only display advertisements, and Tras and Cho passed much time huddled around it, contentedly watching strange-looking humans acquire devices and services which they could not fathom in a language they could barely understand.

"I almost feel bad, showing them the viewer," Asin said. "It entrances them! But at least I now have had some time to work on the report. They're so curious, they were badgering me with questions every waking moment. You'd be surprised how quickly they stop accepting 'magic' as the cause of all they see."

"Well, if magic becomes commonplace, the wonder ceases and curiosity takes over. I bet if you had insisted that we were gods, they would not question anything out of pure fear!" Jovas fastened a finned, vented heat sink along the blaster's barrel. Attaching the stock to it, he held it against his shoulder and checked the sights. Grunting with a measure of dissatisfaction, he pulled out a small hand tool of some sort and began fiddling with the blaster again. Asin chuckled, then noticed something leaning against the far wall.

"Is that a spear?" he asked, unable to keep a tone of shock from his voice.

Not looking up, Jovas replied, "Yes. It's Tras' spear, to be precise. I was outside yesterday, setting up water condensers--as an aside, the four of us are using quite a bit of water. I was about fifty meters from the ship, and there I noticed it, lying in a patch of trampled grass...I think that's where Tras finally fell.

"It's really a marvelous weapon, all things considered. Even after fighting with the dogs, it was still intact and quite sharp. So, I brought it on board and modified it."

Asin had gotten up and was examining the spear. "I was about to say--this isn't a stone head."

"No, it's not. The ship has a basic milling and routing machine which is meant for creating limited replacement segments for the hull, or for various ship parts, if we're in a pinch. But practically speaking, in can create any shape I want. So I made Tras a new spear head, and I reinforced the shaft with some microfracture sealant. I suspect it will prevent the wood from rotting or breaking, but I can't be sure."

"A metal spear point and an unbreakable shaft." Asin hefted it clumsily, examining its leaf-shaped blade. "Tras just become the most heavily armed Earther on the planet."

"How right you have it," Jovas quipped. "That spear head is the same composite material as the hull. Nothing he can do will dull it. Ever. Well, at least in his lifetime. A half dozen centuries of abuse might wear it down a bit. I made a knife for Cho, too, but I don't know if there's some cultural taboo against arming women, so it may wind up to be Tras', as well."

"I think they'll appreciate these very much, Jovas," Asin said. "To them, these weapons are life. A sturdy spear or knife means food--or at least, it means that they have a good chance at getting food. It is security against their predators, and against other, hostile tribes. Tras places incredible value on his spear--it's actually saddened him that he lost it. And I don't believe there are any taboos against women having weapons."

"Good, I'll give them their weapons when we set out tomorrow."

"So soon?" Asin watched Jovas stow his modified weapon in its case, the lid sealing shut with a soft hiss. "Is Tras ready?"

"I believe so," he replied, setting the case against the wall. "I examined him earlier this morning, while you were still asleep. The nanopaste has been rebuilt into healthy flesh. He's still sore where the new muscles are, because they take longer to stitch themselves to the existing ones. I want us to sleep in a few hours until late evening local time, then we'll set out."

"And you said it's a fifteen kilometer walk?"

"Based on the images returned from the relay satellite, yes. The tribe moved closer to us, to the shores of a lake larger than the one they were staying at. That cut a good twenty kilometers off the walk. I think that even if we go slow, we'll make it there before the day truly begins. We'll stay as long as you need; the only thing I want to make sure is that I get DNA samples of everyone in the tribe."

"DNA? Why? Won't it just confirm what we already know?"

"Perhaps," Jovas answered cryptically. "I have a notion, though, I think it would be shown correct if I had a larger sample size."

"Oh, Jovas!" Asin rolled his eyes. "Your flair for the dramatic is rearing its head again."

Jovas perked up. "Speaking of which, I've been meaning to tell you...we are on Terra, in fact, and I can prove it."

Asin looked perplexed for a moment. "Oh yes! You had me wriggling in the crushing grip of argumentation when our guests arrived. Alright, Jovas, tell me. How is it that we are on Terra?"

"The sun."

"The sun?"

"Yes, Asin. Terra has a sun, like any other planet worth a care. Do you happen to know its name?"

Asin thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No idea."

"Sol. Its name is Sol."

"And you're sure of this?"

"As sure as those publishing the GRE are of it. This is, apparently, one of the few things known with reasonably certainty about Terra. Sol is Terra's sun."

"Very well. So how do you know that that particular sun outside which will not set is Sol?"

"A series of fortunate events," Jovas replied mirthfully. "First, it began when I started analyzing the star to place the age of the landing craft on the satellite. The computer was able to observe the star in great detail...much greater detail, in fact, than it normally would. It was thus able to accurately simulate the characteristics of the star moving back in the past.

"Knowing this, I encountered a great boon while researching General Qa Solip. You recall the written record I spoke of, which is ninety thousand years old?" Asin nodded. "Well, it is the oldest verified record, but there are records which may be older, but are certainly no more than five or so centuries younger than this verified record. Among these I found a navigational chart."

"And this listed Sol?"

Jovas smiled. "No, it wasn't quite that easy. Early interstellar navigation relied upon being able to correctly identify stars following a jump. A navigator would have to examine the region of space where a star was supposed to be following a jump, and the best way to identify a star is by keeping detailed characteristics of it. From this, you can determine what a star should look like at the distance from it you think you are. If your assumptions hold, you repeat the process for several other well-known stars to confirm your position, then begin plotting your next jump.

"Of course, modern navigation is much easier, as we have hyperspatial beacons. At any time I can ping the nearest two beacons and triangulate our position. But, at any rate, the chart I discovered listed the properties of fifty or so local stars, along with their coordinates relative to the General's planet. Using a bit of guesswork, I narrowed the list down to ten or so, then it was just a matter of comparing the properties of this star to those on the list--specifically, to the extrapolation the computer made of what the star would have looked like 90,000 years ago. When I found a match, I went looking through any other literature I could find from the general's homeworld which would have a name to match to the coordinates."

"And that was where you found the name 'Sol,' " Asin finished at a whisper.

"Indeed. This is the final piece of the puzzle, Asin. I believe that I have provided sufficient evidence that the star this planet orbits is Sol, and that, therefore, this planet is Terra. Terra is Earth."

Asin found himself leaning against a crate for support. "Terra is Earth," he repeated. "Earth is Terra." He laughed. "Earth is Terra!"

"You'll understand, then, if I decide to cut the mission short, so that we can transmit our findings back to University?" Jovas stood.

"Earth is Terra!" Asin shouted, then threw his arms around Jovas, who barely maintained his balance.

Jovas laughed, embracing Asin tightly. "I'm glad you understand. Now, let's go get some sleep, and then take Tras and Cho back home."


* * *


Jovas inhaled deeply through his nostrils. The air was dry and comfortable, and nothing smelled amiss. A tiny breeze gave the faintest wobble to the tops of the steppe grass. It crackled softly as he stalked forward, his eyes darting back and forth rapidly. The unfolded stock of his blaster rested just above the crook of his right shoulder, and the weapon felt cool and deadly in his hands. The entire plain was cast in a golden glow by the midnight sun, just off to Jovas' left.

Directly behind him was Tras, managing to keep up with Jovas easily. He carried his spear proudly in both hands even now, over twelve kilometers into their trek. Asin had indeed be correct; he'd loved the spear, and Cho loved her knife. She'd fashioned a sheath for it out of some of the leftover fabric from her shirt, and it hung from her belt. Every once in a while, when Jovas turned around to see if any dogs were following them, he would catch her hand on it, a soft smile on her face.

Bringing up the rear was Asin, who was terrified enough for the all four of them. White-knuckled, he held his Number tightly in one hand, and continually hitched the strap of his rucksack with the other. But Jovas paid him little attention; every rustle of the grass could possibly herald the arrival of dogs. Tras had said that the pack in this region was nearly fifty strong and could bring down a fully-grown man without any major difficulty. It made hunting alone risky, but such was their life. Jovas smiled a small, vicious smile; if he could, he would make their lives just a bit easier before they left.

Tras tugged on his sleeve. Jovas stopped and turned. "They're close," he said, wide-eyed. He pointed to his left, the northwest. "I hear them, and they often come out of the sun. They will be there."

Jovas nodded. "Let's move on. Quickly!"

Putting on his sun shades, the midnight sun dimmed so that he could see where Tras had indicated. Sure enough, he saw half a dozen squiggles being beaten through the grass, fifty meters away. Tras' hearing was rather sharp; Jovas was impressed.

"Jovas!" a voiced hissed behind him. It was Asin.

"I'm a tad busy!" Jovas hissed back.

"They're behind us, too!"

Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw them, coming up the path that they'd created in the grass. They were large creatures, at least fifty kilos. Tall and lean, they loped efficiently, low growls in their throats, ears back, and teeth bared. Jovas counted five of them, moving in single file.

"They are the same ones that..." Cho moaned, pulling her knife out. Asin turned on his Number, and it began to throb quietly.

"Move," Jovas ordered. Shoving past the three of them, he brought his blaster up to his shoulder and thumbed the safety catch off. Taking a moment to sight the lead dog, he closed the contact.

It looked like the front of the weapon exploded in a deafening roar. Coruscating arcs of ionized particles shot up off the barrel, and a pressure wave blasted flat the grass in a two meter radius in front of him. The recoil was mainly absorbed by the stock, but in this configuration, the weapon's kick was still incredibly strong. The bolt itself moved too fast to see, of course, but the tracer followed it perfectly, a glowing blue lance stabbing outward from the muzzle to its target.

The lead dog's brain probably didn't even have time to register the sound before it disintegrated under the unrelenting might of the blaster. In a few milliseconds the front two thirds of the dog was simply gone, replaced by its aggregate components spraying across ten meters of grassland in quarter-circle volume away from Jovas and the others.

Jovas lowered the weapon momentarily, the heat sinks hissing angrily as they worked furiously to dissipate some of the waste energy of the weapon. The dogs stopped their forward motion, and one was yelping in obvious pain, a shard of bone lodged in one of its eyes.

Looking back behind him, he saw the paths continuing to be cut in the grass towards them from the northwest. That made at least eleven dogs total, now ten, advancing directly on them. Tras and Cho, despite themselves, had clamped their hands to their ears in futile defense against the blaster's report.

"Something's wrong," he murmured to himself. Then, a bit louder: "I think they're driving us towards a trap." He looked back south; the remaining dogs were retreating, leaving the remains of their fallen comrade behind. "We go northwest, through them."

"Through them?" Asin peeped. He was trembling.

"Yes," Jovas barked, resuming the lead spot again. "Then they'll all be to our south and won't be able to direct our motion as effectively." He looked at the map on his wrist display. "We'll loop around a patch of trees--that's probably where they were going to spring their ambush--and continue on our way. It'll only add a kilometer to our trip. Quickly, now!"

Jovas took off at a trot towards the advancing dogs, and the rest followed him silently. When he'd closed to twenty five meters, he closed contact again, firing at the dog to his immediate left. The blaster thundered, but the shot was slightly wide. The dog he'd shot at was merely hideously wounded, and it screamed in abject agony. Not resting on his laurels, he swung his blaster right and fired again at nearest dog. This shot was dead on, and the dog exploded rather horrifically.

"Move!" Jovas barked. "I want to make sure they don't follow us." He couldn't exactly see where the other four dogs were, but he suspected that they were reconsidering their plan of attack. As Tras led Cho and Asin to the northwest and past the now-disrupted line of dogs, Jovas paused a moment. The dogs to his left were moving off, but the ones to his right w---

It was only after the attack that he realized that the dog had leapt immediately for his throat. The next thing he was aware of was the hissing of the forcefield atomizing the dog's saliva as it tried again and again to bite his neck. His combat DATs fully in control, he acknowledged that his blaster had been knocked from his hand. Forcefully, he drew and activated his Number, thumbing it up to the maximum setting. As the dog was completely occupied with trying to open his throat, it ignored his left arm until the Number it was wielding smashed square into the creature's spine.

The dog collapsed on Jovas, its back legs now essentially useless. Ignoring its piteous screeching, he shoved it off to his side and sat up. Almost as an afterthought, he swung the Number again and struck it at the base of its skull, killing it instantly.

Looking to the northwest, he saw another dog's corpse. Asin, Cho, and Tras stood over it, Tras howling victoriously at the apparent kill. His spearpoint was bloody, held high over his head. Breathing hard, Jovas grinned, and stood up, pausing just a moment to retrieve his blaster.

Walking over to the three, Tras grinned at him broadly. Jovas clapped the smaller man on the shoulder, then looked up at Asin. "Good work!"

Asin twirled his Number. "I did my bit, but I doubt I could have finished him off."

"It was a fine kill." He looked back down at Tras. "Right?"

Tras nodded happily. "Alright," Jovas continued. "Let's move on. We've only a short way to go!"

A couple questions.

Is their ship capable of picking of the traces of the long-abandoned ruined cities dotting the landscape? What about the ruins that are now underwater from the ice caps melting?

Since the spacers not only were able to survive but also spread to other star systems, are there any signs left behind of their presence? Long-abandoned mined-out asteroids, Martian colony ruins, etc? They might've missed those at first since they thought they were coming across an uninhabited system and weren't scanning for them.

Or was the original space idea that the remaining surviving big governments, realizing that the End was Near, packed up 10,500-11,000 or so people into a ship, maybe even sleeper ship, and sent it to another solar system so humanity would survive? (I thought to round up because a few people probably would get killed before having kids, though now when I think about it, they could've just sent a lot of sperm and ova from different people along and cut the numbers down a lot, if they had a proportionally large group of women.

Mayabird wrote:Is their ship capable of picking of the traces of the long-abandoned ruined cities dotting the landscape? What about the ruins that are now underwater from the ice caps melting?

As a general rule, if they're visible, the ship detected them. The main issue, though, is that the vast majority of former settlements are in really inhospitable places. They've been blasted with hurricanes, earthquakes, and all that other nice stuff, for 100,000 years. I really suspect that there's very little left. In the places where it's still habitable, there were very few cities of appreciable size. Consider present-day Earth. The largest city north of the Arctic Circle is probably Murmansk, and at 270,000 people or so, it's not especially huge as cities go. The ship probably saw such places, but the characters decided that it would be too daunting it attempt archeology when they have a population of humans to talk to.

[quotepSince the spacers not only were able to survive but also spread to other star systems, are there any signs left behind of their presence? Long-abandoned mined-out asteroids, Martian colony ruins, etc? They might've missed those at first since they thought they were coming across an uninhabited system and weren't scanning for them.[/quote]

Indeed, those examples would be missed, even though they're probably there.

Or was the original space idea that the remaining surviving big governments, realizing that the End was Near, packed up 10,500-11,000 or so people into a ship, maybe even sleeper ship, and sent it to another solar system so humanity would survive? (I thought to round up because a few people probably would get killed before having kids, though now when I think about it, they could've just sent a lot of sperm and ova from different people along and cut the numbers down a lot, if they had a proportionally large group of women.

While I can't tell you too specifically (because I don't want to shoehorn myself later), the gist of it is this: There was already a viable, self-sustaining lunar colony. Earth was rapidly taking an environmental shit, and the lunar colonists, whose prime motivation was to ensure humanity's survival(this was, after all, the original reason for the lunar colony), began aggressively researching FTL travel. When the hyperdrive was finally invented, Earth was in the grips of a massive die-off. I imagine some sort of racism motivated the humans living on the moon to ignore the remaining earthers, instead deciding to spread humanity out from the moon. So, over the period of several generations, the moon sent out early hyperspace explorers. When a suitable planet was found, they abandoned their lunar colony and settled there, leaving Earth to wallow forever. No attempt was ever made to go back, nor was any particular care applied to preserving Earth's history. The facts which survived to Jovas and Asin's time did so by blind luck.

From this newly-settled planet, the former lunar colonists were fruitful and multiplied, colonizing the entire galaxy over a period of, say, ten thousand years. During this time, there's no doubt in my mind that Earth was revisited unintentionally, but even if people were discovered living on it, it would probably have been deemed too hot to bother with establishing a colony. Or, conversely, the fact that it was Earth would surface, and it would abandoned in disgust. Regardless, once the galaxy was settled, the real fun of galactic politics, war, and intrigue began, and there was little interest in establishing new colonies. It's only because every single star system is now being searched that Earth was found again.

Ford, this chap was the tightest I've seen the whole story! Very well-written, good combat sequence, and nice wrapup.

Could it be possible this is in the Global Mean Temperature or the Humanist Inheritance verse?

Then, there should be a significant 'ruin' on Luna that our brave explorers might someday find.

Jovas seems a little more feral than before. Maybe not feral, but definitely more...violent?

Phantasee wrote:Jovas seems a little more feral than before. Maybe not feral, but definitely more...violent?

You can thank the Galactic Alliance's DAT Ministry for providing him with the ruthless killer instincts displayed here. Though his DATs are all above-board, I imagine that DATing has a seedier side, as I hinted at earlier in the story. I would suspect that unofficial DAT repositories would allow some stupid kid somewhere to go all "I know kung fu" and and accidentally snap his little brother's neck demonstrating this fact. There are, I feel, a large variety of implications, both positive and negative, for being able to instantly gain pretty much any knowledge you want.

As an aside, we're on the downslop of the story here, so I would only expect two or three more sections. There's a final issue that Jovas and Asin need to hash out, and there will be some sort of final resolution. I have an idea for an ending in mind, but I have to get there first.

Hopefully I'll be able to post part 11 this weekend (or even earlier, if we're lucky!).

I really hope earth is re-integrated into the galactic community. I may sound pessimistic here, but I'll be pissed if the two guys decide they need to 'preserve the secret' of earth or something.

I made the editorial decision to go for smaller sections leading into the finale, so the turnaround will be accordingly (I hope!) quicker. This section brings to light the final "twist" of the plot, if you want to call it that, and some of its implications. I realize that there are certain issues left unaddressed, but I fully plan to acknowledge them...at some point. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Asin watched the main viewer dreamily, where Terra hung in eternal repose, the view only changing because they were again orbiting it.

"Now, as I was saying," Jovas continued, "we are at a crossroads. I want to include something in the report, but it's big. It's going to fundamentally alter the Alliance's response, and I don't think you're going to like what that means."

Asin snapped out of his reverie yet again. He could scarcely stop staring at Terra on the main viewer, and found himself often idly daydreaming about what evidence of the cradle of humanity had survived one hundred thousand years. But, for now, he focused on Jovas, specifically, what he had said.

"I'm sorry Jovas, but I don't know what you're talking about. We're including everything, no?"

"That's the problem," Jovas sighed. "I've been working on a bit of a side project, while you were compiling the main body of the report. It was designed, at first, mainly to keep myself occupied, since I couldn't very well help you write, but I've found out something which I think you'll find...disturbing."

Asin's patience for Jovas' mannerisms was large, but undeniably finite. "Yes, yes, and that is...?"

Jovas took a deep breath, then blurted out, "Now that we're off the planet, there are no humans on Terra."

Asin's shoulders slumped. "Really?" he groaned in exasperation. "We're back to this again? Jovas, the DNA kit was wrong because these people exist outside the Bottleneck, not because they're not human."

"Actually, Asin, it's both." Jovas brought up a new display on screen. "The analysis kit was throwing an error due to the genealogy issue. We accepted this and moved forward, but something nagged at me about it. I hadn't the time to devote attention to it until we had returned to the ship, but I found a most startling fact: when you disable the kit's genaeological analysis, Tras and Cho's DNA still comes back as not human."

"But, that's impossible! You saw them with your own two eyes. They're human! All of their tribe, too!"

"No, Asin, they're not. None of them are human. Of all fifty-two females I sampled, not a single one could produce a viable offspring with you or myself. Of the fifty males I sampled, not a single one could reproduce with the benchmark female DNA sample that the computer has on file for reference. They are genetically incompatible with humanity, and this means that they are a different species."

Asin frowned. Indeed, he didn't like what he was hearing at all, but he couldn't place exactly why. Jovas continued: "It is a special case of allopatric speciation. Their population went through a bottleneck, as did ours. But where we have reproduced from ten thousand individuals to ten quadrillion, they have not taken a dip in the Galactic gene pool for over one hundred thousands years. Their selective pressures are completely unlike ours: they must have sharp hearing and smell. They must be physically hardy. They don't need to read, or write. They can be as dumb as asteroids, so long as they can survive long enough to reproduce. And since their populations are so small, the genetic drift is large. Speciation probably occurred many thousands of years ago."

"But I don't understand something," Asin began slowly, with the same frown on his face. "If we went through a similar bottleneck, why isn't our drift so pronounced? Why can a woman take a seventy thousand year old sperm sample from across the galaxy and have a viable, healthy child? Why didn't we speciate?"

"Asin, we did speciate. We did it at the same time they speciated. I admit, though, these things are a bit fuzzy. For example, the common ancestor that we and they share? Some humans can technically produce viable offspring from ancient DNA samples, but this could loosely be described as the phenomenon of a ring species. Not every human woman can take that ancient sperm sample and have a healthy child, but every human living today can successfully interbreed with any other living human of the opposite gender, all things being equal.

"Further: I'm no geneticist, so I can't be certain, but I would wager that we, as a breeding population, kept our genetic drift down by intermarrying as much as possible, so as to maintain genetic homogeneity. Also note this: the average generation is seventeen years on Terra. The average Galactic generation is over fifty, but we will say fifty-one to make the math simpler.

"Genetic drift is governed by a change in alleles over the course of generations, not years. For every one of our generations, three occurred on Terra. Therefore, alleles reached fixation on Terra at a rate three times greater than that of the Galaxy at large--at minimum!. Compounding this is the fact that our population exploded, while theirs stayed small and fixed. Once our population grew large, the rate of allele drift (and thus, fixation) shrunk precipitously, while theirs stayed as high as ever. All this drives home the undeniable: Terrans, Earthers, whatever you name them, are a distinct sapient species, with which we share a common ancestor. But they are by no means human."

"But you mentioned ring species--"

"Ring species tend to occur when there is a wide variance in the habitat of a given species, enough to cause significantly different selective pressures at the extremes of the range, but there remains enough interbreeding occurring on the whole to allow interbreeding among certain similar members of the species. For example, individuals at either extreme will not be able to interbreed, but both will be able to select a mate from nearby clines and interbreed.

"Regardless, humanity's habitat has been stable for one hundred thousand years, and so have its selective pressures. Earthers have remained anomalous and isolated, subject to high genetic drift and totally different selective pressures. They were human once, but no longer."

Asin sat in sullen silence, staring at Jovas. He felt his hands absurdly clenching, and the blood was hotly creeping up his neck. Shifting uncomfortably, the latter began, "I imagine this is somewhat upsetting to hear, but--"

"Oh, what in the fresh fuck gave you that idea?!" Asin screamed suddenly, his dark skin flushed as much as he could manage. He was trembling hotly as he continued, "How dare you say that about them? About our friends?! Do you realize what you're insinuating?! Do you--?"

Asin suddenly found himself weeping, and he didn't know exactly why, for for exactly how long he was crying. But his anger melted as suddenly as he had rose, and when Jovas offered him his shoulder, he eagerly took it.

"Listen, Asin," he said softly, "I don't like this, either. But the evidence is incontrovertible. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"I know," Asin moaned into Jovas' shoulder, "but it's just...what does this mean for the Terrans? For Tras and Cho?"

"I wish I knew," Jovas sighed. "I don't believe that there has ever existed concurrently another sapient species in the entire Galaxy, much less one with which humans share a common ancestor. Every governing document I've every read guarantees human rights, expressly and only. What happens when there are sapient creatures who aren't human? How are their rights assured?"

"Don't say that, Jovas!" Asin said suddenly. Sniffling, he pulled away from Jovas and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "The Alliance government wouldn't do anything to harm them!"

"Would they? I'm not so sure. There's no legal mandate for them to do anything to protect the Earthers. And there are only a few hundred thousand of them. What's to stop them from quietly shipping them off to a reservation, so that Terra can made more habitable and re-settled by a human population..."

"Wait a minute," Asin snapped again, before regaining his composure. "You said that both we and they speciated. Who's to say that they aren't, in fact, humans, and we are the aberration? After all, they live on humanity's birthplace, and have done so, uninterrupted, for one hundred thousand years. Why shouldn't they be the inheritors of the legacy of our common ancestor?"

Jovas shrugged. "I think that that question is deeply philosophical, and I can't answer that definitively for you. All I can tell you is what I know, and I know that we and they aren't they same species. I have a notion, though..."

Asin sat back down in his chair. "By all means."

"Much of Terra's history is still unknown. For example, we don't know how their population came to exist in such a state. You yourself said that they would've had to have mastered primitive industry to get out into space. We ourselves are proof that they got out into space, so we know they had crude industry. So, where did it go? Why did they fall to near-annihilation, when we spread through the galaxy, and flourished?

"I don't believe that humanity is defined by whether or not you were born on Terra. Maybe we could consider ourselves human because we represent that which our ancestors so desperately sought: propagation throughout the galaxy and, ultimately, survival. We embody that drive that first pushed our ancestors out into space. We are the end result of their desire; their dream realized. Even so, I can't tell you why our ancestors remained on Terra, but I doubt the reasons were noble.

"But regardless, we have succeeded and they have failed. Consider two realties: one contains only us and the other only them. In the first, one, ten, or a thousand of our planets can be wiped out and the species will continue to thrive. In the other, if anything severe enough happens to Terra, they are dead to the last person and everything for which our ancestors struggled vanishes. All the pain, the suffering, the anguish of the countless billions of them is lost to the universe. This gives us claim to the legacy of our ancestors and the title of humanity. At least, that's how I feel."

Asin didn't speak for a while, churning instead in his own thoughts. Finally: "Well, that's a nice way to think of it, I suppose. Still, what do we do about them? What do we do for Tras and Cho, and all of their tribe?"

Jovas wetted his lips before speaking, "We do what is best for them, and that is this: demand equal protection under Galactic Law. They deserve to have their standard of living massively raised, and doing so for a few hundred thousand sapient beings to which we are remarkably similar is, logistically speaking, a trivial task for the Alliance. There may be a lack of political will at first, but we can fix that. I don't think it's farfetched to say that you and I are going to be famous, Asin...for about fifteen minutes. We can use that fame to bring the plight of Earthers to the attention of quadrillions of humans. Enough of them are going to care for enough of a period of time for the government to do something. If we strike while our words have weight, I feel we can accomplish some real good."

"You think, Jovas?"

Jovas shrugged. "It's worth a try. None of my friends from University are politicians now, so we should take our plight to the people. It's not as if we could hide this, either. I haven't sent anything back to University or the GRE in over two weeks, so they're expecting something large from us. Even if we didn't submit the report, they would know from the ship's log we visited this place and were here for a long time. Earth will be discovered, one way or another."

Asin wrung his hands together. "What can we expect, if we send everything in?"

Jovas frowned. "Well, I'm going to exercise the territorial clause in my commission, claim that this world is of special importance to the Alliance, and demand that a warship be sent out protect it. We'll wait in orbit until they arrive, when we'll be debriefed, and in all likelihood, set upon by the Galactic entertainment networks."

Asin nodded, then said with conviction. "Alright, Jovas. We send the full report in, and we deal with all of its consequences. For Tras and Cho."

"For Tras and Cho. And every...person...still living on Earth. On Terra."

Sorry for not updating in three weeks. I encountered major writer's block trying to bang out part 12, so I skipped it and started writing the conclusion. That went much better, so I wound up finishing the story, but with a missing section. What I'm doing now is filling in the missing part (I think I've gotten past my writer's block), and when I'm done, I'll post the entire remainder of the story. So, the next section posted in this thread will be longer than most, and will wrap up everything I've decided to wrap up.

I make no promises, but I honestly think I'll have it where I want it this weekend, so keep your eyes peeled.

Oh, please try to post them seperately! I can't read walls of text on this computer anymore, and your stories are "page turners" in a sense.

Never let it be said that I don't listen to my readers. I split the conclusion up along its logical fault lines, so this is the second-to-last part. As such, it's a shorter section. I'm going to make some final editorial tweaks and post the remainder of the conclusion within a few days at maximum, as it's already written. Enjoy!



* * *


The Long Sight slipped out of one of several dozen launch bays of the massive flagship. Elegantly, it moved into formation with the rest of the "ceremonial" battlegroup, consisting of several dozen frigates and corvettes, ten or so destroyers and heavy cruisers, and, of course, the aforementioned flagship: the Indomitable. Six cubic kilometers of the finest in destructive technologies in the Galaxy, it was the personal ship of none other than the Grand Admiral herself, the highest officer of the Alliance navy. And yes, she was aboard.

And she'd spoken to Jovas. Personally, one on one.

And Asin. Personally, one on one.

It was doubtful to Jovas that he'd actually survived the encounter, for he couldn't remember even breathing while in her presence.

But nevertheless, he was back at the helm of his ship, taking time enough to absorb his thoughts. For the last two weeks, he'd scarcely had a moment to himself, save for sleeping or bathing. They even talked to him when he was in the bathroom!

The Alliance had reacted even faster that Jovas had expected. Having access to the timeline of events after the fact, he was ever amazed at the speed at which things had happened. It began when the report Asin submitted entered the queue, where it sat for approximately thirty-six seconds, awaiting a preliminary summarization by the computers back at University. When the report was analyzed in this first pass, it occupied the computer for a full second, it was so absurd. Finally, the analyzer deemed the report too outlandish to be true, and it was dumped to a secondary queue, pending human intervention and analysis.

Jovas had suspected as much would occur, and thus, they would wait. What amazed him was that seventeen hours later, the report was suddenly logged in the third-pass, override analysis. That meant that the report had been read in its entirety by a technician, then taken to four distinct supervisors to obtain the necessary clearance to go back into the analysis machine. The average for that was anywhere between twenty-two and thirty days, though in reflection, Jovas surmised that the territorial claim exercised by him gave the report something of a priority in the great bureaucracy at University.

From there, the report was properly analyzed and its data parsed and sent off to the relevant experts at University, whose own computers would prioritize the segments received to determine in which order and by whom they were looked at. Asin had informed him, and not with a small amount of pride in his voice, that every aspect of their report and gone straight to the top of each queue.

So, scarcely three days after the report had been submitted, they received their first congratulations. A pair of frigates were dispatched from the nearest Alliance garrison, and their captains had eagerly and publicly heaped praise upon both Asin and Jovas, hoping to be the first to be seen with the new celebrities.

It took a few more days for the Indomitable to arrive, as it stopped off at Capital and University to pick up a motley of politicians, press, and a few academics. That was when the real fun began.

The initial debriefing was attended by not only a thousand members of the press, but the Grand Admiral herself. After that, Asin and Jovas hopped from reporter to reporter, answering the same questions the same way--as they had agreed. At every opportunity did they stress the Earthers' sapience and assert that this entitled them equal treatment.

After the press junket, they were separated. Jovas found himself before a naval review board, where his candidacy for the command track at the Naval Academy was proposed, seconded, and accepted. Without so much as ten words from Jovas, he found himself on the fast track to his own naval command. He wanted to tell Asin, but he couldn't find him. He was even busier than Jovas, speaking to historians, professors, and sociologists. Somewhere within the bowels of the Indomitable, he and his fellow academics began drafting plans for the return expedition.

Of course, each learned of the other's encounters only superficially, and only when they were back aboard the Long Sight. But Jovas knew little else, because Asin was asleep in his room. He'd apparently gotten very little rest in the week they'd been aboard the Indomitable.

Jovas drummed his fingers on the arm of the pilot's seat. He should probably sleep, too, as there were another string of debriefings scheduled in twelve...no, eleven hours. Idly, he commanded the ship to rotate around its horizontal axis, causing the starfield to distort sickeningly. At least, it was to most people. Jovas wasn't bothered by it in the least--part of the reason he was suitable to be a pilot.

"Eugh!" came from behind him. Jovas looked, and there stood Asin. He actually looked green, and he had his eyes screwed shut. "What are you doing? Trying to kill me?"

Jovas commanded the ship to stop, and the the starfield instantly returned to normal. "I didn't know you were there! I was just marveling a bit...this close to the flagship, it should be impossible to do what I just did."

"And why's that?" Asin asked, taking his familiar seat next to Jovas.

"The Indomitable is a warship, Asin. It generates its own interdiction field at all times, unless it is launching or retrieving smaller craft. And even then, it only deactivates the field in specific launch and landing perpendicular the bays. Out here, though, it's running as long as the reactors are."

"So, why can we maneuver such that you can nearly make me vomit out in the interdiction field?" Asin asked drily.

Jovas laughed. He'd missed Asin. "Our gravitic drive, dear friend. To the external universe, it appears that we produce no gravity. As such, we are completely immune to the slowing effects associated with interdiction fields. The interactions are a bit more complicated than that, of course, but that's the basic idea."

Asin nodded thoughtfully. "So...shall I call you 'Captain Kholo' from here on, or should I wait until you actually receive your commission?"

Jovas rolled his eyes. "Oh, please! If you call me that, Professor Welseo, you'll find yourself back on the Indomitable, unable to get a moment to yourself."

Asin threw his hands up. "I surrender! Anything but that!"

Jovas laughed, then a silence settled between them. Asin said, "How much longer do we have here?"

"Not long. After the next round of briefings, the ceremonial battlegroup is going to disperse, and only a dozen or so ships are going to remain behind. We're going to have to report back to University after that...though, the Grand Admiral told me that she would see to it that we would be given two weeks to get there, and a rather large amount of discretionary funds to facilitate the journey. Any particular places you care to visit?"

Asin looked startled. "How...generous of her! When I spoke with her, I received no such indication. She was downright...chilly with me!"

Jovas shrugged. "Well, you know, she was part of the GS program when it was in its infancy. She piloted the third GS ship ever constructed. It was only because of this solidarity between her and I that we received such a generous offering--of that I have no doubt. It's also why we're out here, rather than still aboard the Indomitable: she said she would want to be aboard her ship, so she let us go. I also think she understood that we were more than colleagues, so..."

"Well, remind me to thank her!" Asin laughed. But again, it died and the pilot room was silent.

"Do you have any news on the return expedition?" Jovas asked.

"Well," Asin sat upright as he spoke, "we've only decided to return in a year's time. Terra's year, not the Standard year. Every archaeologist and ancient historian in the Galaxy has expressed interest in coming to Terra, so we won't be short of labor. I believe that there will be some sort of station constructed in this system, so that will be our staging point."

"What about the...other issue?"

Asin sighed. "I've done my best, as have you, but there are a lot of ideas being thrown about. The one gaining the most traction is to build reservations for the Earthers and, over the course of generations, subject them to genetic therapy so that they are, eventually, the same species as ours. They'll have access to the same standard of living as the rest of the Galaxy, and, in time, they will be indistinguishable from us. At any rate, they're going to be corralled in reservations so that the planet can be terraformed and settled."

Jovas sighed. "Well, I suppose it's the best we could hope for. But why are they terraforming the planet?"

"Terra is going to be a powerful propaganda tool. It is a tangible symbol of unity, a shining beacon to direct the eyes of the entire galaxy. For one hundred thousand years, we've been a scattered species. Only now do we have concrete notion of 'home.' Imagine the potential for reunification! To be the faction that possesses the planet from which we can all claim ancestry! Sociologists I've spoken with surmise that a great number of planets will rejoin the Alliance on this fact alone--on the fact that we have Terra!

"At any rate, for the Alliance to properly possess it, it must be terraformed and colonized. There must be a human population on Terra, and it cannot wait. Frankly, I see the reasoning behind this position, but I don't like it at all!"

Jovas was taken aback. "Asin, are you...are you angry?"

Asin took a deep breath. "I keep seeing Tras and Cho! In my mind's eye, that is. It doesn't matter that I know they're going to be better off this way. I just...can't imagine how they'll handle what's going to happen! Nothing will be same for them! Nothing!"

"Why don't you recuse yourself from the return expedition, if you cannot bear the thought?"

Asin shook his head. "It's strange, but I cannot. As much as I hate it, I feel I owe it to Tras and Cho to return. To see them and their tribe on the way. Oh, I know it's irrational! But they are my friends, and..."

"Say no more," Jovas said. "I understand. It's commendable, Asin, and I wish you all the best. Your hand will help guide how we treat the Earthers. Do everything to help them, and you'll truly be their friends."

"Thank you, Jovas." They were quiet for a moment, looking at each other. "So, how would you like to spend the next few hours?"

"I can think of a few things," Jovas replied with a smirk. "We should see about having a drink of that whisky from Halicar, for one. That should lead nicely into some vigorous...exercises. But before that, what do you say we decide on where to spend our last two weeks? I was thinking of a planet with a beach..."

Interesting, to see how humanity is reacting to the discovery of the homeworld. I've gotta say, though, if you somehow reset-button this, it will make it the biggest freaking copout outside of a Voyager episode.

A captaincy and a professorship. Not bad for a few days' work. Can't wait until 2 million archaeologists descend on the planet.

As promised, the conclusion. I met a deadline! Huzzah! I will refrain from commenting on it here, as I might spoil it, but as always, I welcome all comments and criticisms. The story is complete. I hope you've enjoyed reading it, as I have enjoyed writing it immensely. Thank you!



* * *


Tras crouched low and peered at the pile of feces in front of him. A cursory sniff told him, of course, that it came from a dog, but it was the pile's location that had him concerned. This was close to the tribe's summer home at the lake's shore, and it was not common for dogs to be prowling around here.

Tras frowned, his mind working at the problem as methodically as it could. It was just a few short days ago that the dogs had stumbled across the child Desi when she had wandered away from her parents. They'd only found the bloody earth to mark where she'd been killed--the rest had been carried off by the ravenous pack.

For some reason, the dogs had grown bolder than they'd last summer. Discounting his own incident, none of the tribe had come into contact with the dogs. It was only when they'd returned to the lakes this spring that the sightings had increased, and now, they had eaten little Desi.

Tras scratched at the hair upon his face, partially introspective, and partially to deter lake flies from lingering there too long. Why were the dogs so aggressive? The ground squirrels had been sparser than he remembered, so that would make the dogs hunt outside their usual territories. Yes--dogs couldn't fish, as Tras and his people could. What else had they but children? An adult knew how to fight or evade the dogs long enough for help to arrive, but a child was slower and weaker. As that was the case, Tras would then protect them...somehow.

Tras went by many names these days. Some called him Godspear, for the fierce and unstoppable weapon he carried. It pierced anything it touched, cutting through skin, muscle, and bone with ease. Some called him Tras the Blessed, for he was friends of the amazing magic men who had visited last year. Still others called him the Tras the Invincible, for his body was crisscrossed with scars that would've killed anyone else, yet he was healthier than any other man in the tribe. But all called him Over-Father, for he was the tribe's Patriarch.

His uncle, Tras, did not live long after meeting Asin and Jovas. As the summer waned, he led them back south to their winter home. There he and several others of the tribe ate some poisoned meat, and they all succumbed to the sickness it carried inside it. Tras became Over-Father on a grey, dark winter's day, and with heavy heart, he led them during the dark months.

Tras turned his attention back to the dog droppings in front him. If they kept creeping closer, there would be a fight. There were enough adult men in the tribe to ensure victory, but it would come at the cost of some of their lives, and others would surely be crippled in the struggle. And for what? If the pack disintegrated, another would coalesce eventually, or a pack further afield would take over this one's territory. And in the interim, good hunters would be dead, and the rest would suddenly want for food. No, fighting would be the last option.

Tras stood. Uncle, what would you do? he thought to himself. He turned back to the lake shore, and spied twenty or so children playing happily in the water, under the watchful eye of the tribe's women. Further still the men of the tribe tended the fires, tried a bit of fishing the shallows, or simply lounged under the shade of a clump of trees against the day's heat. None of that for him, though. He had much to consider, and it often helped him to ask his uncle for help. Of course, he was dead, so he couldn't possibly hear any reply he might send, but it cooled his thoughts somewhat, and made them come more easily.

But nothing was forthcoming. The lake stretched on, vanishing to the horizon, even upon the hill on which Tras now stood. It was times like this that Tras asked someone else: Jovas, what would you do?

He did not think of the magic men every day, but he did think of them when he encountered difficult problems such as these. And while Asin was a kinder, more friendly person, he respected Jovas' hardness and his hunter's instincts. He was clever, like a leader had to be. Probably, Tras thought often, he was a Patriarch in his own right, back in the Hot Lands.

So, what would Jovas do?

Jovas would lead the tribe to the far side of the lake...perhaps beyond, the voice in his head spoke.

Tras rubbed his chin thoughtfully. That wasn't a terrible idea. The fishing was good on the far side of the lake, and there might be more ground squirrels over there. It would be a long walk, looping around the shore as they had to do, but all the year's babies had been born, and the mothers who'd survived had all recovered, so it would be not take too long. Further, the dogs would be unable to approach them from more than one side, so they would be safer.

Nodding to himself, Tras settled that matter. They would prepare for two days, then move to the lake's far shore. He was about to continue his thought, but a pair of familiar hands slid around his sides and over his bare chest.

Grinning broadly, he turned. "Wife."

Cho grinned back at him. "Husband. Father."

From the satchel on Cho's back, his son bleated happily, just able to see his father over his mother's shoulder. A tiny hand reached out, plump infant fingers outstretched. Tras extended his index finger, and his son grabbed it, laughing at the game. Tras smiled, for it warmed his heart to see his son both strong and happy.

"What are you doing up here?" Cho asked. She was naked, as was Tras, both having used their shirts to swaddle their child and make his satchel.

"Thinking," he replied. "The dogs draw ever closer. I will take us to the far side of the lake."

Cho nodded, the motion of her hair causing the baby to coo with delight. Tras' son was strong, like his mother, and like his father. He'd been born during the long migration back north, and he quickly grew accustomed to the hard life of the walk. Many had expected Cho to fall behind and die, as most mothers did who birthed babies out of season, but she bore herself and her son back to their summer home with no complaint or ill effect.

"Have you thought of a name for our son?" Cho asked, eying Tras expectantly. It was the father's duty to give a child his first name. When he became a man, he would, of course, be given an adult name, but for now, the task fell to Tras.

Tras leaned on his spear. "I have two, but I cannot decide."

"Asin," Cho replied immediately.

"Actually, no," Tras replied. "Neither is that. One is 'Jovas,' though--"

"No!" Cho stabbed a finger over Tras' shoulder, wide-eyed. "Asin!"

He turned, and sure enough, Asin was there. He was far away yet, and he appeared to be floating across the ground towards them, but he was there.


* * *


The hoverjaunt had a top speed of thirty kilometers an hour, which made it incredibly useful for these short excursions. If only they'd had these a year before! But then again, GS scouts weren't equipped to handle such planets as Earth, because such planets weren't expected to actually exist. The new expedition was equipped with absolutely everything they'd need. Asin didn't risk inhaling the air deeply, for want of having an insect shoot down his throat. Instead, he gripped the handlebars tightly and checked his position again. He would be there soon.

To be back on Earth again! From the outset of the earliest planning, it had been inevitable that Asin would feature prominently in the expedition, but it diminished his joy no less. He'd requested to be deployed to the polar region again, specifically, to see Tras and Cho.

It amazed him still how much they now knew of Earth, and where they had found the information: much like Jovas' discovery a year before, it had been on the moon, in a massive underground structure near the moon's north pole. Exposed to and preserved by the vacuum for one hundred thousand years, it contained a wealth of information.

Asin could see the three-dimensional images on the holoviewer even now with this mind's eye. The specially sealed chamber marked "Records." The carefully delineated instructions etched into the walls on how to construct a device to access the data it contained. And the information itself!

Earth had succumbed to climate change. This much was clear. The world grew hotter and hotter, and the pre-historic society collapsed. Humanity had spread out not from Earth, but from the colony on the moon. They developed artifical gravity. They developed the hyperdrive. They even mastered terraforming...and yet they never returned to Earth to fix it. Nothing found in that lunar sepulcher ever explained why.

But where mysteries conspicuously remained, other information was abundant! It was remarkable to consider that he knew the name of the land over which he now floated: Canada. It was a massive primary political division of Earth, and one of the last ones to crumble to nihility. He was in one of its last major subdivisions: New Ottawa. There were two others: Yukon, to the west, and Nunavut, to the east. There were half a dozen others to the south, but they had dissolved in the final years. These remained the final bastions of civilization at the top of a dying world.

But Asin was on no mere joy ride, for New Ottawa was the last to fall to ruin and, as such, it held the most current ruins of civilization somewhere. The last city to decay, according to the lunar repository, was Canada's capital, Inuvik. Based on planetary surveys, Inuvik's ruins now lay underneath a massive lake, the southern shore of which Asin was heading towards.

It also happened to be the summer home of a certain tribe, to which Tras and Cho belonged.

Asin marveled at the coincidence, but he was no longer surprised by it. He was far too erudite to ascribe to such notions as fate, of course, but the sheer number of humans alive in the galaxy meant that, statistically, amazing events would occur to someone, somewhere. Asin was that someone. But then again, it could've just as easily had occurred any number of ways. They could've originally visited another of the continents and befriended the tribes in places with names like Russia, Scandinavia, New Denmark, or Svalbard. But they came here, to Canada, where the last cities of their ancestors died slow deaths.

There were other cities, of course, scattered across the top of the globe. North of Inuvik was the smaller city, Tuktoyaktuk. It was now several kilometers out to sea, swallowed by the rising waters. In the Yukon subdivision, the area surrounding the city of Fairbanks was now under investigation. In Nuvaut, the coastal cities of Resolute and Iqaluit were currently being located by survey teams. Like them, a swarm of archaeologists would soon descend upon the lake over the ruins of Inuvik, probing its depths and learning the secrets of Earth's last city.

But not just yet, Asin thought. There is one matter--there they are!

He spied them at a distance of one hundred meters, as he crested a hill that gave him a stunning view of the lake. He checked his wrist display again; amazingly, the transponder Tras had been unknowingly outfitted with last year had remained attached to his skin and still functioned. Tracking Tras and Cho down was a simple task, but being able to venture out alone and meet them again was a great fortune.

He throttled the hoverjaunt down to fifteen kilometers per hour, then ten. They had spotted him by now and were running to meet him. They had recognized him!

He slowed to three kilometers per hour and hopped off. The hoverjaunt obediently stopped and powered down, no longer sensing his weight on it. Unmindful, he walked towards Tras and Cho, a huge smile on his face, his arms held wide and welcoming.

"Asin!" he heard Tras shout. "Asin, Asin!" Asin was momentarily concerned, because Cho wasn't moving as fast as her husband. Had she been injured in the year since he'd last seen them?

He had no time to think on it further, because Tras was upon him. Asin brought his arms close to his body, sticking his forearms straight out, parallel to the ground, palms up--the common greeting of the tribe. Tras took the offered greeting and clasped Asin's forearms with his iron grip, and Asin tried to do his best to match it.

"Hello, Tras," Asin said, barely able to form the words, his smile was so broad.

"Asin!" Tras shouted for the umpteenth time. Asin was pleased to see that Tras looked as healthy as ever. His body was still scarred, but his skin and hair shined, and his eyes looked clear. Amazingly, he looked noticeably older--more mature, perhaps.

By now, Cho had joined them. Tras released his grip so that Cho could greet Asin. As was custom, she offered her palms upward to the man, Asin, and he took them. "Cho, it is wonderful to see you again. I--" He trailed off, only now noticing the bundle on her back.

He looked to Tras. "Your child?"

Tras beamed. "My son!"

Asin grinned a shocked grin. "Wonderful!"

The baby did not know to be afraid yet, so he reached its tiny hand out towards the new figure. Asin, not entirely sure of what else to do, offered his finger to the infant. He almost jerked it back when the little hand closed around it and tried its best to crush it. But, after a second or two, he let go, gurgling happily.

"He is strong!" Asin exclaimed, flexing his finger. "You should be proud. Both of you," he added. Tras couldn't smile any wider, but he tried, anyway.

"Where is Jovas?" Cho asked.

"He could not come with me. He had other tasks to do." Asin thoughts turned momentarily and somewhat sadly towards Jovas, who he had not seen physically in nearly ten months. Off at naval command training for almost a year now, he was in line for his first assignment any day. From what he'd last related to Asin, it looked likely that he would receive one of the first gravitic corvettes, with over sixty people under his command. Sixty! His assignment would likely last two or three years.

"And why have you come back, friend?" Tras asked.

"I have something I need to speak with you about," Asin began. "And your uncle, too. It concerns the whole tribe."

Tras posture stiffened suddenly. "My uncle is dead," he said flatly. "I am the Over-Father now. You may speak with me."

"Oh, Tras," Asin murmured, "I am sorry. I--" But then he stopped. The moment he'd feared had come. Somehow, he'd been able convince himself that it would never happen, that Terra would remain inviolate forever...even though he'd spent the better part of a year planning this very expedition. But he'd been able ignore it, to tell himself that they would plan and plan and somehow never get around to doing it. Even when they'd moved from University to Earth's newly-constructed orbital station, he never thought they'd actually go down to the surface. And when they went down to the surface, the expedition would...what? Cease? He hadn't allowed himself to think that far, and only now had his denial caught back up to him.

I can't tell them, he though with miserable certainty. I can't physically speak these words. How do you tell someone that their way of life is going to end? That settlers are going to flock to the world in millions to legitimize the government's claim? How can they even understand such a concept?

How can I tell Tras and Cho that their son is going to grow up in a climate-controlled reservation two thousand kilometers away, mashed together with dozens of other tribes, so that the terraformers can increase the planet's habitable range? That he'll speak their language second to Standard? That he and all his children will be subjected to gene therapy so that one day, a descendant of his will have evolved to be the correct species? I am not a friend to them. I am a destroyer!

Tras waited, either blissfully unaware or unmindful of Asin's tortured expression. Then, he looked over Asin's shoulder. His eyes boggled; so did Cho's. Asin became aware of the deep throbbing heralding a descending ship, and he too turned. No, not yet! he screamed bitterly in his mind. I just arrived! Give me some more time! Give them some more time!

But the Galaxy would wait for neither Asin nor Earth. The transport ships landed a few hundred meters away, and almost immediately, people began pouring out of them and onto the surface. Bays opened, and equipment and vehicles crushed the steppe grass beneath them. A few hundred meters beyond this, a massive prefabricated structure floated down and shook the ground with its impact, the first of many such buildings in this new frontier settlement. The baby started crying, and perhaps in spite of her own fear, Cho took him in her arms, shushing it gently.

"Asin," Tras began uncertainly. He'd dropped his spear. "What are all these things? Who are these men? Are they magic men, like you?"

"Like me, yes," Asin answered weakly.

"What are they doing here?"

Asin looked up at the sky, blinking back tears. If he looked at Tras, looked into his eyes, he would surely weep. But perhaps he owed him that. No, he definitely owed him that. So he looked at the Earther, and he spoke.

"They're coming home, Tras," he said, fighting staunchly to keep his voice. "They're coming home."