Omega

Despite the circumstances, it wasn’t a good career move for the linguists to bail out on the mission. It would get around, and people had long memories. When future positions came open, they’d go to the ones deemed loyal and dedicated. Judy had mentioned that to the group shortly after they’d bobbed to the surface out here, advising them to do what they thought best, but underscoring how important reputation was.

On the other hand, they were linguists rather than researchers, and maybe the people hiring them wouldn’t care the way she would.

During the next half hour, the rest of those who were leaving showed up, Malachy looking tired and dispirited, Jason Holder frowning as if everything that had happened out here had been personally directed at him. Elizabeth Madden held up pretty well, and Ava MacAvoy. Jean Dio

Valentino and Mike Metzger were packed and ready to go. And Marilyn McGee and Ed Paxton. Judy wondered how that marriage would fare when they got back into a normal situation. She was convinced that romances formed under unusual circumstances had little chance to prosper. But maybe she was wrong.

One by one, they shook her hand and kissed her. Thanks, Judy. I wish it could have worked out better. Appreciate the opportunity. Good luck. I hope there are some left when you get there. Sorry it turned out this way.

Alexandra came by, expressed her regrets, and gave them their compartment numbers on the Vignon. Twenty minutes later, the ship moved within visual range. It was that star over there, the one that kept getting brighter, that broke apart finally into a cluster of lights. Then it was alongside, sleek and gray, a dwarf compared with the Hawksbill. But big enough. And with working engines.

The engineers were the first ones through the airlock. Judy, who somehow felt it her duty to be on hand, stood to one side while Alexandra greeted them as they came in. There were two of them, both males, carrying cases and gauges, with instruments dangling from their belts and cables looped over their shoulders. Both very businesslike. Alexandra took them below.

THE ENGINEERS MADE several trips back to the Vignon. At one point, in front of Judy and several others, one of them told the captain that the engines would not have survived another jump. When Judy asked Alexandra what that would have meant she said that they would either have exploded or, more likely, stranded them in hyperspace. It was a reflection of the mood in the ship that Judy wondered whether the conversation had been staged to rebuff those who’d grumbled at the captain’s insistence on going no farther.

Ah, well. She had no reason to doubt Alexandra, but she would have considered doing that herself had she been in the captain’s place.

Meantime, the doors opened on the Vignon, and there was a final round of handshakes and farewells as people headed across. When the exodus had ended, the al-Jahani felt empty. Subdued. Only Frank remained, and six of her Shironi Kulp.

Charlie Harding, who had never stopped talking about how he looked forward to watching the cloud sweep in over Lookout, raining down meteors and then lightning bolts (although he felt sorry for the inhabitants, yes, pity we can’t do more for them) got bored waiting for the Vignon to depart and came back to complain. Judy hoped they wouldn’t leave without him.

She strolled down to her workroom and found Ahmed and Ginko engaged in a role-playing game, while Harry Chin watched. It had something to do with trying to move supplies down a mountain slope with a limited number of pack animals, all of whom could not be watched at once, in the presence of lions that attacked wherever they saw an opening.

Nick Harcourt was in the tank leading the Boston Philharmonic in a rendition of the 1812 Overture. Guns roared, the strings and horns delivered “La Marseillaise,” and the drums rolled. Shelley and Juan were with him, so caught up in the performance that they didn’t see Judy come in. She closed the door and found a seat.

They were inside a symphony hall, although Judy had no idea if it was a specific site or simply something made up by Bill. Nevertheless, there was the illusion of a packed house. She closed her eyes and saw tattered flags and ca

Alexandra came in and passed her a message marked PERSONAL. It was from Digger, and it outlined a plan to induce the Goompahs, when the time came, to evacuate their cities. He wanted her opinion.

It was as good as anything she’d been able to think of. Might even work. She scribbled off a short reply: Try it. Good luck. Will join you in the new year.

Hell, he might have something. Maybe they’d pull it off yet.

After di

Judy went so she could be one more time with the eleven linguists and her shattered dream of riding to the rescue.

The captain of the Vignon, whose name was Miller, or Maller, or something like that, was an unassuming man of modest proportions, shorter even than she was, but who was obviously proud of his ship. He enjoyed showing her off. And, in fact, the Vignon was the most recent addition to the Academy’s fleet. It had briefly belonged to the late Paul Vignon, a banking magnate, who had willed it to the Academy. “It was originally named Angelique,” the captain explained, “after a girlfriend.” At the family’s request, the ship was renamed for the donor, who had never actually been aboard her. (Whether the personal pronoun referred to the ship or the girlfriend was not clarified.)

The tour ended in the common room, where the captain had arranged to have drinks and snacks laid out. Judy wandered from one conversation to the next, aware that she was having trouble getting the thundering beat of the 1812 out of her mind. She could not resist smiling, standing with MacAvoy and Holder, while the latter went on about the stupidity of administrators at the University of Toronto, where he’d punished their incompetence by leaving his position as leading light in the Sociology Department. As Holder described his vengeance, ca

“Why are you smiling?” Holder asked, stopping in midsentence to stare suspiciously at her.

“I was just thinking how difficult it will be for the U. T. to make up for the loss.”

“Well,” he said, not entirely certain whether he had been mocked, “I didn’t really want to do any damage, but at some point they have to come to realize. ” and so on.

When the opportunity offered, she excused herself and went back to the al-Jahani. Despite what they’d been through, she wasn’t anxious to leave the broken ship. They’d accomplished a lot here, had broken into the language of the Goompahs, had mastered it, had read their literature, absorbed some of their philosophy and their ethics.

She sat down and paged through her notebook of Goompah wisdom.

Enjoy life because it is not forever.

There was no indication they believed in an afterlife, or in any kind of balancing of the scales. No judgment. No Elysian fields. They seemed to see the world, the Intigo, as an unpredictable place. But it was their home, as opposed to the idea it was a place through which they were just passing en route to somewhere else.

Therefore, pleasure was a good unto itself.

Regrets usually arise from things we failed to do that we should have, rather than things we have done that we should not.

Accept responsibility.

Enjoy the moraka, which didn’t translate, but which seemed to imply a combination of love, passion, the exotic, intimacy, friendship.

Beware addictions. The essence of the good life is a free exercise of the will, directed by reason.

Beware addictions.

But wasn’t moraka an addiction?

“Bill,” she said, “I want to record a message. For transmission.”

“To?”

“David.”

“When you’re ready, Judy.”

She thought about it a long time. Smiled into the imager, tried to look casual.

“Dave,” she said, “the relief ship got here today. Some of our people are bailing out. Rest of us are headed in your direction. When you get where you’re going, keep in mind things may not work out. If that happens, don’t blame yourself.” She almost thought she could see him, sitting in his cabin on the Hawksbill. Thinking about nothing except the omega. “Have a good flight. I’ll see you in January.”

“Transmit?” asked Bill.

Somewhere, far off, she heard the thundering hoofbeats of Cossacks.

“Send it.”

“Done,” said Bill.

ARCHIVE

(Excerpts from The Book of the Goompahs)

(Translated by various members of the Shironi Kulp)

We exist for the sole purpose of making one another happy.

It is said, with pride, that we are the only creature that looks at the stars. But who knows what the galloon contemplates in the dead of night?

Every advance, every benefit, is the gift of an individual mind. No group, no crowd, no city has ever contributed anything to anyone.

Whatever you have to say, make it brief.

Good advice is always irritating.

Defend your opinion only if it can be shown to be true, not because it is your opinion.

Authors love to be petted.

Integrity means doing the right thing even when no one is looking.