Jill tuned him out. Her sobs had subsided to the point where she could almost breathe again, but there was a heaviness deep inside her chest. Nate was rubbing her arm, his teeth gritted tight in pain.
“You know,” he told her shakily, “people always wonder what it would be like to be at their own funeral. Well, I guess I just found out. Freaky.” Despite his words, there was something new in his eyes—a recognition of what her tears had meant, a question.
“Oh, Nate!”
She collapsed beside him, lying down next to him right there on the asphalt. He turned his head to look at her.
“Hurts like a son of a bitch,” he confided.
“Oh, sweetie, I know.”
She reached up a hand to stroke his face, that amazingly beautiful face. His expression changed as she touched him; his eyes darkened. She couldn’t bear that look in his eyes, never had been able to bear it, but this time, instead of turning away, she turned into it. What freedom, to allow herself to turn into it! She kissed him.
“Nate.” She said it for the pleasure of acknowledging that it was really him. His lips were so soft it was like drowning, and his kiss was as sweet as she remembered—god! The nights she had lain awake not wanting to remember! She kissed him with every bit as much intensity and abandon as she had felt in her grief.
When she finally released his mouth he groaned and pushed her away with a quivering laugh. “Jesus. Have you ever tried having a jones and a six-inch hole in your abdomen? There’s a definite conflict of interest going on down there.”
“Oh god, I’m sorry!” She felt herself go red. “Cargha, we need to get Nate inside, now. And we’ll need painkillers, and antiseptic.”
Cargha was still observing them with mild disgust. His lids came down over the goo on his eyes. “ ‘Painkiller.’ Curious idea. It is very much a dark planet concept. We do not require such things. This injury is easily remedied by reassembling the energy of the tissues. There are repair devices in most of the facilities. If you go—”
“You’ll take us to the nearest facility in the car. Now.”
She started to get up, preparing to help Nate to his feet. He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Jill. Just promise me one thing.”
“You’re going to be fine,” she reassured him, giving him a brave smile. Now that he’d stopped her getting up, her fingers were unable to resist the texture of his hair. “You heard him. And don’t forget, this planet is lucky.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Nate said, giving her a smoky look. “But that’s not what I meant. Promise me—”
“I don’t care about the wave technology,” she insisted. “Really, Nate, you’ve been right about this whole thing. I think we can get back to Earth, but when we do—”
“Jill!” he interrupted, impatiently.
“What, Nate?” Her fingers, which found playing with his hair much more satisfying than playing with each other, were now exploring the baby soft skin on his neck. How on earth had she resisted this temptation for the past two years? What kind of masochist did that? It was like starving to death in a room laid with a gourmet feast—a gourmet feast that was trying its damnedest to leap down your throat. She must have been mad.
“I want you to promise,” Nate said, “that as soon as we fix this hole in my stomach, which will hopefully be in the next five minutes, because it really does sting like a bitch, you’ll kiss me like that again. In private. For about a year.”
“Mmmm,” Jill said, feeling herself melt.
Cargha sighed.
Book Three.
Synthesis
21
The word emet (אםח), meaning “truth”, begins with an alef (א), the first letter of the alphabet, and ends with a tav (ח), the last letter. Thus, the “end is imbedded in the beginning.” This is accomplished through the mem (ם), the middle letter of the alphabet.” [thesis, antithesis, synthesis]
The woods were silent. The only light was the begrudging dregs of a half moon. If there had been activity here recently, men in long coats wandering in and out—scraping bark, studying the ground, taking soil samples—you would not know it now. The trees, silvery gray, slept the long sleep of fibrous things. Nocturnal insects trapped lesser insects; small mammals with night-glow eyes tracked them in turn and had their own deep fear of talons and swooping wings. The higher order of man was absent, leaving the woods to simpler, though not necessarily more innocent, rhythms.
But not for long. Without warning, a miniature sun erupted in the middle of the clearing. It burst into being with a noise like crackling thunder and a flash of light so intense it blinded several of the creatures who chanced to look upon it.
Everything in the vicinity fled. There was only silence as the light faded, growing bluer and bluer, merging with the darkness. The outline of five figures materialized.
Jill blinked into the light, trying to get her bearings. She wasn’t dead, at least she didn’t think so, and it didn’t feel like her legs had replaced her arms or her lungs had turned inside out or anything else of that nature.
She groped around and found a hand—Nate. She grasped it, panicking for a moment with worry. But he squeezed her back, reassuring, whole. Relief made her knees weak. Her feet felt pinned to the ground.
Gravity. It felt so strong—too strong to be Earth? Or was she simply unaccustomed to it?
She closed her eyes against the stinging light and when she reopened them it was better. To her left she could make out the silhouette of Nate, his head turned toward her. Farther away, in a wide circle, were three others. It was like watching a film negative develop. There was… yes, the rabbi, on her right, with his full beard, rubbing his eyes. And next was… Denton Wyle, tall and slim, his arms held out as if to catch himself, already aware enough to be astonished. And the last…
The last figure was farthest from her and she could just make out a well-made masculine shape, tight, heavy clothes. Who…?
“For the love of God, what’s happened?” The rabbi found his voice first.
Jill tried to speak and had difficulty moving her mouth. It was as if her brain were trying to reacquaint itself with the engine under its control.
“Rabbi Handalman,” she managed, “it’s Jill Talcott.”
“Dr. Talcott?” came a light male voice. “Is that Nate with you? It’s Denton.”
“Yup, it’s me, Nate.”
And still the fifth figure did not speak.
The light had continued to dim, moment by moment, and now Jill could make out Nate’s features. He was looking around and then he looked at her and smiled—not a big smile, he was not quite in control of himself enough for that, but it was big in intent. It said, We did it. We’re home.
She tried to verify that herself, squinting beyond him to make out trees, tall and black against the bluish light. She looked straight up above her and saw a familiar moon. The coldness and the scent of the air penetrated her senses. She breathed it in, her nostrils growing brittle, exhaled to see a plume of mist.
“Is this Earth?” came the rabbi’s voice, hopeful, trembling. “It’s not possible… Is it?”
“We’re back where we started, Rabbi,” Nate said. “At least, that was the general idea.”
“You did this?” Denton sounded delighted.