Joan Vinge: Heaven Chronicles

Betha turned back to the screen, saw MacWong's pale eyes search her face for an answer. “It's going to be Lansing! Tell your people, MacWong, Nakamore. Those are Morningside's terms: our aid will be distributed through Lansing, the capital of the Heaven Belt. Neither of your governments will be shown favor, everyone will be treated equally.”

They stared at her, unreal images; she saw Tiriki come alive, saw his mouth move soundlessly: “… a trick … want that ship destroyed …”

Wadie leaned past her. “Lansing's harmless, Lije! The Demarchy will accept it; you know they will.”

MacWong moved back from the screen as Tiriki caught his shoulder; Betha read Tiriki's hatred. She looked at the computer plot. “That last ship will pass at only thirty kilometers; they can fire on us almost point-blank.” She nodded at the screen. “If we don't see that ship pass by, we'll be stardust.…”

Behind her Shadow Jack said solemnly, “You mean we'll be dead.”

MacWong broke away from Tiriki's grasp. She couldn't see his face, only that he faced the media's glaring eye and gave an order.…

Nakamore began to laugh. “Thank you, you son of chaos!”

A barely visible streak of palest violet lit the darkness on the screen before them for the length of a heartbeat, and was gone. The third ship had passed.

Clewell strapped himself into the navigator's seat, feeling new strength and satisfaction fill the hollow weariness of his limbs. He looked down at the running reflections on the panel. Shadow Jack holding Bird Alyn in his arms as she serenaded the long-suffering cat floating in midair across the room,

The representatives of Heaven Belt.… Clewell smiled, seeing them many years older and wiser, many years into the future, returning again to Lansing. “I never thought I'd be saying it, but I may just live another sixty years.”

Bird Alyn braced her feet against the wall to peer sideways at him. “I can't believe it's real. Pappy. How did it happen? How did it all come out like this?” Shadow Jack kissed her cheek; she giggled.

Wadie pushed away from the viewscreen, where Lansing lay before them on the now-empty night: a chrysalis waiting for rebirth into a new life cycle. “Nothin's gone right in Heaven Belt for two and a half billion seconds, Bird Alyn. There are a hundred million corpses out there and God knows how many people who've gone through living hell …” Bird Alyn's smile faltered; Shadow Jack held her tighter, the past darkened their eyes.

Wadie shook his head. “We must have paid for our mistake by now, a thousand times over. It's about time we had some good luck, dammit! It's about time.”

Their faces eased. Clewell saw Betha look up from the panel, covering other memories, other sorrows. “Yes, it is. Pappy”—her voice was even—“everything's secured, the sky is empty. Start charting our course; it's time to go home.” Wadie moved back to her side; Clewell saw his hand lift, hesitate, and drift away, still uncertain. He had been beside her for days: helping, learning … watching Betha Torgussen with an intentness that had nothing to do with starship technology. The man who would be a hero someday when their ship returned, MacWong had said; but who for now was still a traitor … and the only trade consultant who would satisfy both the Demarchy and the Rings. A good man, Clewell thought; the right man. Like another good man who had loved his wife and been his friend.

Clewell felt Betha's eyes touch him once more, as blue as field flowers, still shadowed by memory and pain. Time heals all things … and they would have the time they needed now. She changed the image on the screen. It showed him numberless stars; and one among the millions—shrunken, red, and constant—that would guide them home.

Laughter floated out of the room and down the stairwell as Bird Alyn and Shadow Jack, unknowing and unconcerned, put the past behind them forever.

Rusty settled onto his shoulders, purring in soft harmony with the memory of song:

He saw the faces of his other children, who he hoped would live to see the better world that had cost so much and been so long in coming. “Rusty,” he said quietly, “it's about time.”

Joan D. Vingehas had stories published in Analog , Orbit , Isaac Asimov's SF Magazine , and various anthologies, including The Crystal Ship (title novella) and Millennial Women . Two of her novellas have been published as a book entitled Fireship .

Joan has a degree in anthropology, which she feels is very similar to science fiction in many ways because both fields give you an opportunity to view human relationships from a fresh and revealing perspective. She's worked, among other things, as a salvage archeologist, enjoys horseback riding and needlecrafts, and is married to Vernor Vinge, who also writes science fiction.

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