Robert Silverberg: Starborne

He hesitates.

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he says, recklessly.

“Then have faith in me. Touch a star, year-captain.”

He puts his hand on hers. “Go ahead,” he says, and his soul becomes a solarium.

Afterward, with the solar pulsations still reverberating in the mirrors of his mind, with blue-white sparks leaping in his synapses, he says, “What about the others?”

“I’ll bring them in too.”

The year-captain, for all the changes that he has undergone in these last few moments, nevertheless feels a sudden surprising flicker of momentary petty resentment. He does not want to share with all of them the thing that he has attained with Noelle. She is his; he is hers. But in the instant that he conceives his resentment he realizes the absurdity of it, and he abolishes it. Yvonne is here too. He can feel her, Noelle’s other half. Earth-sister, star-sister, both together once more, and he is with them. The others should join them also. Yes. Yes. Let them in.

“Take my hand,” Noelle says.

They reach out together. Their mind moves through the ship and one by one it finds and touches the other voyagers. Sieglinde is the first they encounter, blustery, recalcitrant Sieglinde; and she seems to understand at once, and yields. Then Zena; then Leila, then Elizabeth, with a cry of joy. Heinz. He dives in without hesitation. Paco, after just a moment of uncertainty, gives himself to it in the deepest gladness and relief. Leon. Roy. On and on through the ship. One after another, and the more of them that are in it, the more swiftly the rest accede. The year-captain feels Noelle surging in tandem with him as the union grows, feels Yvonne, feels greater presences, luminous, ancient. All are joined. The whole ship is one. The words of the final verses of the ancient Norse poem that he once knew so well, that dark saga of the Twilight of the Gods, roll through his mind. Now do I see the earth anew rise all green from the waves again… In wondrous beauty once again shall the golden tables stand ‘mid the grass…

He and Noelle step out into the corridor. They are all out there, wandering around in wonder. No one speaks. He sees shining eyes everywhere. The year-captain realizes that he is captain no longer: there is no need for a captain here. And the days of playing Go have ended too. They are one person; they are beyond games. Go would be impossible now for them to play, for how can one compete against oneself?

…then fields unsowed bear ripened fruit. All ills grow better, and Baldur comes back…

“And now,” Noelle whispers, “now we reach toward Earth. We put our strength in Yvonne, and Yvonne will—”

Yvonne draws Earth’s hundreds of millions of souls into the network in one great gulp, everyone, everyone, and the next phase of human life begins.

The Wotan hurtles onward through the nospace tube. Soon they will arrive at Planet C; and they will send down explorers to see if the newest world they have found is a fair and lovely place where the sons and daughters of mankind can thrive. If it is, they will settle there. And if not, they will go on, on toward Planet D, and Planet E, and Planet X and Y and Z. They are confident that eventually they will find a world whose air they can breathe and whose water they can drink and whose land they can farm, and where they can plant the seed of Earth in a new beginning. But it will not matter at all if they never do. All will be well, even so. The ship and its hundreds of millions of passengers will course onward through the universe forever, warmed by the light of the friendly stars.