by Mitch Benn
Terra was delighted to see Lbbp’s little ship, hovering above a flat stretch of runway. She hadn’t seen it for three weeks and now there it was, surrounded by all that bulky, messy Ymn technology. It looked so . . . simple.
Major Hardison stepped forward to greet them as they got out of the car. He was dressed not in his smart blue uniform, but in the shimmery one-piece garment of a Fnrrn. Behind him, and similarly dressed, was Professor Steinberg. His garment looked rather tighter on him than Major Hardison’s. Behind him stood Lbbp. Terra raced to Lbbp and flung her arms around him.
- I’m so happy to see you! How have you been?
- Not bad. The gravity gets to me occasionally. I’ll be glad to get home, although it’ll be so . . . quiet.
- You’ll have lots to do, though. The treaty with the G’grk, the rebuilding of the Forum, establishing . . . what was it again?
- Proper cultural and diplomatic relations with Rrth, said Lbbp, although that will be Major Hardison and Professor Steinberg’s job more than mine. I’ll just be advising.
Terra looked over her shoulder at her parents. They were talking to Major Hardison.
- Anyway, never mind me, how are YOU getting along? asked Lbbp.
- I’m getting the hang of it, replied Terra. I’m starting Ymn school in a month. I’m not looking forward to that.
- It can’t be any harder than starting the Lyceum was, and you managed that okay, said Lbbp. It should be less eventful, at least.
- I’m not sure, said Terra. We’ve changed so much about these people’s lives just by coming here. I think Rrth has some interesting times ahead.
- Well, you can keep me informed with the infralight comm. You’ve kept it hidden?
- Yes, said Terra, I know, we don’t want them tinkering with it before they know how it works. I haven’t even switched it on yet. I’m dying for news from Fnrr. Have you heard anything?
- Well, let’s see, said Lbbp . . . The terms of the peace treaty are still being discussed, which is fine, the Dsktn refugees are nearly all home, which is better, and Pktk and Fthfth have written a play. About you. It’s a musical.
Terra said nothing, but was suddenly quite glad she was twenty-eight light years away from Fnrr. - So when will you be back?
- Six, oh, whatever it is they call cycles here . . .
- Months?
- That’s it.
Terra hugged Lbbp again. - I’m not sorry, you know.
- What?
- I’m not sorry you did what you did. Not sorry I grew up with you. And Mum and Dad (Lbbp had got used to hearing Terra call them that now) say they’re not sorry anymore either. They’re always saying they’re much better parents now than they would have been.
- It’s very kind of them to say so, said Lbbp, even though he didn’t believe a word of it.
- And anyway, I don’t need to have the best Mum and Dad in the world, said Terra, because I’ll always know that somewhere up there, I’ve got the best stepfather in the known universe.
- I’m so proud of you, said Lbbp. He held up his hand. Always here.
Terra touched her fingertips to his. - I’m so proud of YOU . . . Always here.
Ten minutes later, Terra stood with her parents either side of her as the little lemon-shaped spaceship rose gently into the air.
Onboard, Major Hardison and Professor Steinberg did their best to get comfortable in the flight seats that had been rather haphazardly installed. Lbbp turned to address them.
‘Ready?’
Major Hardison nodded. Professor Steinberg gestured with his fingers.
‘Engage!’ he said, and giggled.
Major Hardison sighed. It was going to be a long trip.
As Terra, her parents, and a few dozen extremely important military and scientific personnel watched, the little spaceship shot upwards and disappeared from view.
There was a pause.
‘What happens now?’ asked Terra.
4.6
Once in deep space, Lbbp had transmitted a message to Fnrr, saying that Terra was settling in and that he and the Ymn envoys were on their way.
The message passed at infralight speed through wormholes, spatial folds and interstitial vortices and was received by the Preceptorate’s extraplanetary communications array. There it was relayed, as was all information, to the Extrapolator.
The Extrapolator assimilated the news and processed it with what, in an organic brain, would be called contentment. All was proceeding as the Extrapolator had foreseen. The war had been averted, the planet was safe, and the Ymn child was back where she needed to be.
For now.
Acknowledgements
A few without whoms:
Thanks to Simon, Jon, Genn, Mark and the rest of the Gollancz gang. Thanks to Greta for being Terra AND Fthfth, and to Astrid for being Astrid. Big thanks to Ken and Liz Bartlett for the use of The Barn and Hilary Bartlett for unfailing moral support. Thanks to Max Leadley-Brown and Lee Budgie-Barnett for unpaid editorial duties and moral support. Thanks to Dad for turning me into a science-fiction freak and Mum for letting him. Thanks to Ian Wilson for managing to manage managing me. Finally, thanks to Neil Himself Gaiman for being an inspiration on so many levels, and to Clara Benn for literally EVERYTHING else.
Copyright
A Gollancz eBook
Copyright © Mitch Benn 2013
All rights reserved.
The right of Mitch Benn to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in Great Britain in 2013 by Gollancz
The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
Orion House
5 Upper Saint Martin’s Lane
London, WC2H 9EA
An Hachette UK Company
This eBook first published in 2013 by Gollancz.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 0 575 13211 5
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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