John Dalmas: Return to Fanglith

But it seemed as if that wouldn't work. Now that the Glondis government had gone Imperial, it was the road to slavery and regret. Fifteen years earlier, when my parents had fled Morn Gebleu, things had been different. And they had children. Now the Glondis Party had consolidated its power on the central planets and was moving to control all the human worlds. We faced a spreading Empire, not a Federation.

So what kind of future could we have together?

We'd had each other, very briefly, and we'd lost each other. It was the wildest luck that we were together again. When I'd thought Jenoor was dead, life had gone on for me. And while she'd had a lot more reason to think I was dead than alive, life had gone on for her, too.

It really had; life had gone on.

So we made a pledge-a pledge subject to change if experience showed us it should change. The revolution would come first with us. We'd be together, work together, enjoy together, as much as we could. For as long as we could. Without clinging to it, without sacrificing the revolution to it. We'd be willing to lose each other, and hope it didn't happen.

Meanwhile we wouldn't worry about it any more than we had to. Life was for living, and hopefully for accomplishing something valuable with. And eventually for dying. For non-revolutionaries, as well as for us. We'd live it while we had it, as ethically as we knew how.

That's the way it sorted out for us-at first only intellectually, but more and more at the gut level, the emotional level, as we got used to our decision.

And that's how it was that, when the Jav came out of FTL mode, Jenoor and I could stand holding hands and feeling good about things as we gazed at the bright blue-white bead of Grinder a couple of million miles away. We had work to do and a life to live there. And who knew where else before it was done.