Resurgence hu-5

by Charles Sheffield

  But I have to be on that next expedition. Who can I rely on? Well, there’s E.C. Tally. He certainly wants to go. But if you’re reduced to relying on E.C. you are in a bad way. Louis will help me. He and I are becoming very close. There’s a price for that, though. Hans would normally help me, too, if I treated him the right way, but I can’t handle both of them at once. I don’t have the nerve or the experience. Glenna could give me pointers, and she would probably enjoy doing it, but she’s back on Sentinel Gate. By the time we get there it will be too late.

  Of course, the person who could make all the difference if he wanted to is Julian Graves. He must have influence on picking the members of the next expedition. Maybe if I switched my efforts to him—wait a minute. He’s an Ethical Councilor. He’d see through me in half a second. And he’d better never see any of this. Delete after “activity is at work there,” and Continue.

  There already exists a plethora of theories about the Builders, and now we are proposing to add another one. It is still in embryonic form, and it, like all its predecessors, may take hundreds or thousands of years to be disproved, or to confirm its credibility. A century is a long time by human standards. However, to the Builders a millennium is no more than the blink of an eye. We must remain open-minded, yes. We must be careful in our work, yes. But most of all, we must be patient.

  Patient. Right. Easy to say and hard to do. I’d be a lot less itchy if I could find a way to be assured a place on the next expedition to the Sag Arm. With so much going on there, major new discoveries have to be ripe for the picking. Maybe I could organize an expedition of my own, nothing to do with the inter-clade council. There’s always Claudius. He says he can’t wait to go home. And there’s a Chism Polypheme ship sitting at Upside Miranda Port, the one that the Marglotta came in.

  Maybe I ought to be making advances to Claudius. Hold on. Claudius! That goggle-eyed green freak. I’m not that desperate yet. Am I? Oh my God, I think I am.

  Delete. . . .

  THE END

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