Stephen Baxter - Raft

“And I see us one day building a ship that will fly us back through Holder’s Ring, the gateway to man’s home universe. We’ll return and tell our cousins there what became of us…” At last Hollerbach’s energy was exhausted; the gray head slumped back against its rag pillow, eyes closing slowly.

When it was over Rees carried him to the port, the orrery wrapped in the stilled fingers. Silently he launched the body into the crisp air and watched it drift away until it was lost against the background of the falling stars; then, as Hollerbach had wished, he hurled the orrery into the sky. Within seconds it had vanished.

There was a warm mass at his side — Jaen, standing quietly with him. He took her hand, squeezing it gently, and his thoughts began to run along new, unexplored tracks. Now that the adventure was over perhaps he and Jaen might think about a new kind of life, of a home of their own—

Jaen gasped. She pointed. “My god… look.”

Something came lunging out of the sky. It was a compact, pale green wheel of wood, like a tree six feet wide. It snapped to a halt mere yards from Rees’s face and hovered there, maintaining its position with rapid flicks of rotation. Short, fat limbs snaked out of the trunk, and what looked like tools of wood and iron were fixed at various points to the rim. Rees searched in vain for the tree’s tiny pilots.

“By the Bones, Rees,” Jaen snapped, “what the hell is it?”

Four eyes, blue and shockingly human, snapped open in the upper surface of the trunk and fixed them with a stern gaze.

Rees grinned. The adventure, he realized, was far from over.

In fact, it might barely have begun.