Dark Lightning (Thunder and Lightning) (36 page)

“So you bought it too, huh?” he said.

Which made no sense at all. And then something horrible hit me. Could he have . . . would it be possible for him to . . . but if so, why?

What I was thinking was, that big display we had all been looking at overhead on the bridge was a screen. Nothing but a screen. Now that he had the computers back under control, it could show anything Travis wanted it to show. Who had been outside since then, to take a look at the actual stars, like Cassie and Papa did?

I looked at her, and it was clear she still didn’t get it. How many people would it take? The astronomers, who were also the navigators, I guess. A dozen of them? But did they actually look at the stars, themselves? I mean with an eye to a telescope? I know that for many years now, just about all astronomy was done with CCDs, charge-coupled devices, that enhanced the light or adjusted it for atmospheric distortion. They were nothing more than little screens themselves. Could those images be phonied up, too? I was pretty sure they could be.

I saw it dawn on Cassie, and we both looked back to Travis, and I expect we looked like little girls who had just been told there was no Santa Claus.

He let it play out a little longer, then he laughed again.

“You kids have tricky minds, just like me. And I’m proud of you for it. But no, it’s not a hoax. Not that part of it, anyway. We really are where I said we are, twenty years from New Sun, slowing down. No, I’m talking about that lousy machine. The one that did everything but send up a starshell with the American flag. The real machine, the one that did the miracle, is not very far from where we’re sitting, in your father’s lab. It’s considerably less impressive. People want a show, so I gave them one. But the real one is small enough to fit into a ship like Sheila.”

I was so relieved that for a moment I didn’t get it. Then Cassie got it before me.

“You mean . . . we could go . . . just about anywhere?”

“No ‘just about’ about it,” he said. “When we get slowed down, twenty years from now, you girls can pop back to Old Sun for lunch on Ganymede, and get back in time for dinner with your mother.” He frowned. “Well, that may be an exaggeration, but I don’t think it’s much of one. Your father just gave us the stars, honey childs. Not the stars after an eighty-year voyage, but the stars like driving across town, like running a circumference of
Rolling Thunder
. Once more, this changes
everything
.”

Boy, did it ever. It put all the stars just a hop, skip, and a warp away. We couldn’t use it yet, except for exploratory missions, because wherever we went, we would arrive at .78c. But that’s enough for a quick look to see if it’s worth coming back. We didn’t have much time at New Sun when we went whizzing by, but we got a better idea of what New Earth looked like. (And isn’t it about time we settled on a name for New Sun Delta, the fourth planet, instead of just New Earth? A contest or something? I guess there’s still plenty of time for that.) New Earth looks to be about half ocean and half land. There are plate-tectonic mountains, and ice at both poles. Nothing we saw makes it seem any less than the perfect “Goldilocks” planet—not too hot, not too cold—which is the reason why Travis chose it in the first place. We didn’t see any lights on the dark side, which is good, and we found two fair-sized moons, so there will be tides.

And if it sucks, for some reason, we’ll just warp over to the next likely candidate. And pop back to Earth to give the warp drive to the folks back there and in, oh, I figure about twenty-one years, humans will be swarming this arm of the galaxy like termites.

Which is a sobering thought in itself.

In fact, we are already planning a quick reconnaissance trip back to New Sun in a newly outfitted Sheila. That’s all it takes, just a little space yacht. We’ll come out on one side and pass very close to New Earth, and really get a good look at it. Cassie and I are invited, and heck, now that we’ve graduated, we don’t have a lot else to do on our summer vacation.

Cassie has been spending a lot of time with Jane Litchfield, hoping some of that broad’s charisma will rub off on her, I guess. She wants to be Cassie B., girl explorer. And it doesn’t sound all that bad. Sooner or later we’re going to encounter some intelligent life, and I’d like to be there for that. My verbal skills are a lot better than hers, so maybe I could learn their language, explore their culture.

Or maybe we’ll both have to fight them off. I’m still thinking about that.

She’s been spending a lot of time with Patrick, too. I have to laugh. Wait until she has to drag him through the lake and hide with him in a giant Mardi Gras float, or get him moving during a shootout with mutineers. He’s not a bad person, just sort of slow and uninteresting. Not a fit mate for the intrepid Cassie B., that’s for sure. She’ll find that out, and I’ll give her a shoulder to cry on. It won’t take long.

So she’s been talking about going into the bubble. Her reasoning, such as it is, is that it’s better to be an eighteen-year-old explorer than a thirty-eight-year-old one. And I can’t say she’s wrong about that. Twenty more years of this quiet, bland existence doesn’t sound as good to me as it once did. And sticking it out, then encountering a young Cassie as we arrive, me being twice her age . . . that doesn’t have much appeal.

It’s something we’ll have to talk over with Mama and Papa, who have their own agendas, trying to reach a point where they’re approximately the same age. But it will just be talking it over. It’s going to be my decision. I’m old enough now. And I feel even older than that, some days, seeing Cheryl and the people we killed in my nightmares.

Side by side into the future, inseparable twins? I don’t know about that. In fact, I doubt it. But will we stay in touch? I don’t doubt that. Something a little closer than exchanging Christmas cards, anyway.

If I know my sister, and I do, she will want the last word. So say good-bye, Cassie.

Cassie:

Good-bye, Polly.