Joan Vinge - The Outcasts of Heaven Belt

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 deflections 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.”