Michael Kube-McDowell - The Quiet Pools

Sasaki smiled. “I look forward to hearing it all tomorrow, from somewhere in the neighborhood of Jupiter.”

“That will be a good distance to listen from, I expect,” said Tidwell. “Have you told Governor James on Ur?”

“I plan to put up a dispatch when we cross out of the solar system.”

“Good,” said Tidwell. “Perhaps then they won’t feel so alone. Perhaps it will help them take some courage and pride in what they’ve embarked on.”

“Perhaps. But I intend to concern myself only with Memphis ,” said Sasaki. “Thomas, Captain Powell is calling me to the bridge.”

“Never let your people forget that they are messengers as well as travelers.”

“I will try. I trust you have no regrets, Thomas.”

Tidwell shook his head. “I no more regret refusing your offer and staying than you regret leaving. And I am curious to see if knowledge of the prophecy of our genes will allow us to defy them.”

“I will wish you the best in that,” Sasaki said. “Thank you for your service, Thomas.”

“Thank me? I should rather thank you. I was privileged to stand in the shadows beside you while you drew to yourself all the forces of a moment in time,” Tidwell said. “Everyone over the age of five in 2083 remembers where they were, what they were doing when Ur sailed. Everyone over the age of five today will remember as vividly where they were when they heard that Memphis had skipped away. And you, Hiroko Sasaki, will go down in history as one of the great criminals of all time.”

“There you are wrong, my friend,” said Sasaki with the smallest hint of a prideful smile. “Starting today, we write the histories.”

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