Alkema knew Keeler would go for that. “The nearest colony, according to the star charts, is called Eventide. With the damage and our reduced speed… it will take us two years to reach it.”
“Two years,” Keeler sighed. “How long would it take us to get back to Chanticleer StarLock?”
“Thirty-seven years,” Alkema answered.
“Eventide it is,” Keeler sighed. “We will have to pray that they have the resources to help us.”
General Kitaen smiled. “Prayer.. za… prayer would be very good. I could lead one now, if you would like.”
“Oh, look at the time,” Keeler said. “Before I adjourn this meeting, I have a few announcements. I saved them to the end to make them more dramatic. First, at the request of TyroCommander Philip John Redfire, I am reinstating his position as Chief Tactical Officer of Pegasus, effective immediately. I am promoting David Alkema to the rank of TyroCommander and appointing him Executive Office of Pegasus, effective immediately.
Your primary task will be to restore this ship to maximum possible functionality. And finally…” he drew a deep breath. “I am taking leave of my position as Commander of Pegasus effective immediately. As of this moment, Commander Change is captain of Pegasus.”
Since that meeting the Old Man has had more time to spend with me. He spends most of it writing. He has even asked to review some of my journals, but I have not shown him them. He expects to have his memoir of our voyage completed by the time we reach Eventide, two years from now, in ship-time.
I’m going to nap now. I promised Chief Engineer Flash I would reconfigure the command and control systems in the New Environmental Control Center later. We have to triple the ship’s atmospheric reprocessing capacity to accommodate the expanded population. I think they can hold their breath until I finish my nap.
Journal Entry Ends
Approximate Date: December 2, 7622 AS
An Epilogue of Sorts
This was not what she had expected.
Surrounded by a cold misty fog, a clammy dampness that penetrated her entire being, Hildegard Kahn waited. She hated waiting. In her world, no one had ever made her wait.
She was comforted by the thought that she had won, in the end. The visitors may have foiled her, but in the end, she had gotten them back. And if she encountered any of her people in New Gethsemane who wondered about the fate of the children they had left behind, she would blame the visitors for meddling.
That was the sweet part about politics. There was always someone else to blame.
Eventually, a shape began to emerge from the mist. It was a boat, a very long boat with a high curved prow. She had not realized, until then, that she had been waiting on the edge of a river.
A middle-aged man in a hood, with a thin ring of hair greeted her from the boat.
“Hildegard Madeleine Kahn?” he inquired.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Now that the river has calmed. I have come to transport you. Please come aboard.” He offered her his hand.
“About furking time,” she hissed as she entered the boat. “My people have been waiting for me.”
The hooded man pushed the boat away from the shore with a long pole, and then took his position at the tiller. The boat began plying through the water.
Her trips to the Afterlife had taken place many, many years before. And like most all who passed there, she had only discordant fragments of memory to go on. Still, this did not seem right. “None of the other travelers said anything about a boat.”
“Most of them didn’t come this way,” the boatmaster said. “And those who did would not have remembered.”
She squinted at him. “I don’t know you, sir. What is your name?”
“It’s not important,” he replied. “I normally don’t do this, but I was in the neighborhood, more or less, and no one else wanted the job.”
“Hmmph,” she hmmphed. “Well, no matter then. I am sure my people are eager to see me again. I have a wonderful speech prepared, full of inspiration, and hope. They will undoubtedly…”
The man interrupted her. “What makes you think that your people, in the Afterworld, still have the need to be ruled over by the likes of you.” His insolence offended her. The tone she used in response was frosty. “You don’t know them like I do. Without my leadership, we would never have survived, we would never have built the Gateway, we would have never been able to evacuate the planet. Without my leadership, my people would be lost.”
The old man chuckled at that, which she found even more insulting. “What are you laughing at?”
“Well, ma’am, what you might call ‘the powers that be’ are well aware of the actions you took to ensure ‘order’ during the evacuation of your planet.”
“Everything I did was necessary and justified,” she insisted. Then, she caught herself. “I don’t have to justify myself to you. ”
“Not to me, no,” the man admitted.
“My people will judge me!” she asserted.
“Yes, among others,” the man agreed.
Hildegard Kahn felt that the argument had gone on too long and gotten tiresome. “How long until we arrive at New Gethsemane?”
“I regret to inform you, Mrs. Kahn, that you will not be proceeding to your intended destination,” the man told her.
“What do you mean?” she demanded.
He did not answer her, but she would get her answer soon enough. The boat was coming to the far shore. There was a crowd of people waiting in the cold. They were murmuring in angry voices. She couldn’t make out individual words, nor did the murmuring seem all that loud, but it was beginning to give her a headache.
The man at the tiller said, “Many, many people suffered under your long reign, and they would like to have some time with you. Then, they will decide what to do with you.” Hildegard Kahn, was suddenly afraid. She had not felt afraid in longer than she could remember, and she didn’t like it. She was about to demand that the man take her back to the opposite shore, but she knew there could be no turning back.
It was not what she had expected.
But it was what she should have expected.
Gethsemane Page 27