“Some of you are thrilled to be here,” he went on, drawing enthusiastic whoops from the back. “Some are already regretting the decision to come.” A chorus of denials, and a muffled sob. “Regardless of what you’re feeling now, let’s help each other. Comfort each other. Move ahead, while we learn together how to make this work.” An extended pause. Everyone listening. “We’ve got time.”
This last won him some cynical chuckles—recognition that time was something they had in plenty.
“We do have time!” Tarnya called out in a positive voice, stepping up onto her chair, as she stepped into her assigned role. She surveyed the gathering, missing no one. “Time to mold a new community. A new way of life. Let’s get to know each other and our options, and together we can figure out what we want.”
“And where we’re going!” Shoran said, one hand on Tarnya’s arm to make sure she didn’t lose her balance. “And what we’re going to do when we get there, because if I have any choice in it, I am not going to miss out on the next adventure.”
“Adventure?” Pasha scoffed, on her feet now and facing the ship’s company. She looked small alongside Shoran, but not at all intimidated. “This is about discovery, history, what was and what can be. We are less than a century from the Hallowed Vasties! We can argue about how we got here, but we are here—and I want to know what we can see from here that we could not see from Deception Well, and I want to know where we are going.”
An eager murmur sounded through the gathering. A few voices offered competing assurances that they were even now consulting the ship’s astronomical records for the newest images of those star systems that had been cordoned—and Kona breathed a soft sigh of relief. Let them stay focused on what was ahead and they would be all right.
He said, loud enough for all to hear, “Our first destination has not been decided yet. The two closest systems are Tanjiri and Ryo. As we get closer, we’ll see in more detail what’s left at each, and we’ll know.”
Riffan organized and oversaw a banquet to celebrate that first day, held at the dining terrace, halfway around the wheel from the amphitheater. Cushions served as seats around a long, sinuous table, segmented to make it easy to cross back and forth to either side. People moved about and mingled, introducing themselves as needed, sharing their wonder and their fear.
Riffan made sure to meet everyone, spending extra time with anyone who looked uncomfortable or alone, and making sure to find them friendly companions.
It was such a pleasure to have so many people to talk to! Though awkward to explain over and over why he’d been wakened almost three years ahead of all the others. When Shoran heard the story, she swore she would never forgive him for it. Riffan thought she was probably joking. Pasha, on the other hand, might plausibly be serious when she said the same thing.
He’d tried to explain his good fortune. “It was only because of my speciality in anthropology and Urban’s belief that the beacon was a human signal.”
Pasha was not happy with Urban either, of course, and she wasn’t alone in that. Maybe that was why Urban didn’t arrive with the others. Riffan had messaged him: *You’re coming, aren’t you?
And when that got no reply: *You need to be here.
He’d answered then, saying, *Not yet. Let people relax first. Enjoy themselves before they get angry all over again.
Maybe it was the right strategy. Urban arrived quietly at the end of the meal when the ship’s company had grown mellow on wine. By the time Riffan noticed him, he was already sitting with Clemantine. He saw her introduce Urban to those around her, including Shoran and Tarnya.
Few beyond Clemantine’s immediate circle noticed Urban was there, but Pasha saw it. She glared from several seats away, no longer listening to the conversation around her. Watching her, Riffan was struck by a fear that she would confront him and it was not a good time for that. It would spoil the evening. Let this day end in harmony.
He crossed between the tables and crouched behind her, speaking softly, “Don’t be angry,” he urged. “Circumstances constrained what he could do. Our history constrained us.”
Over her shoulder she gave him an annoyed look. “That may be true, but I wonder who’s in a position to constrain him, if it should come to that?”
His mouth fell open in shock, his worry so plain to see that she laughed at him. “Oh, Riffan. You’re too trusting.”
“But Pasha, we have to trust him.”
“Yes. I know.”
She turned back to her companions. He moved on.
She had meant nothing by it, surely.
He found Vytet, standing at the edge of the terrace. Seeking reassurance, he asked, “It’s going well, don’t you think?”
“Yes, indeed. I do. We are a frontier people. We know instinctively how to adapt to new circumstances.”
“Truth,” Riffan said, appreciating the reminder.
For centuries, their ancestors had migrated outward, each settled star system on the way acting as a selective filter, passing forward only those with a stable temperament amenable to cooperative existence. Those constraints had partly lifted during their long occupation of Deception Well, and still they retained much of the discipline and cooperation of their ancestral culture. If any among them struggled with the transition, it would not go unnoticed. They would be quietly counseled and cared for until they found a place in this new world. That was their way.
By the time the desserts were done, everyone had grown lethargic with food and drink. Ship’s day was ending and a golden evening light filtered through the branches of the lithe, graceful maple trees surrounding the dining terrace. Conversation quieted, post-adrenaline melancholy setting in.
Riffan had finally settled onto an open cushion between a new acquaintance—the sharp-eyed and self-assured historian, Alkimbra—and Naresh, a physicist with a youthful air who Riffan had known casually for many years. There he began to nod, half asleep, discovering it only when Tarnya’s fine voice rose over the assembly and startled him awake.
“I have a proposal,” she announced.
Riffan straightened on his cushion as heads turned and conversations faded. Tarnya allowed several seconds for attention to settle on her, and then she continued, “I propose that for at least three years no one should enter cold sleep. Instead, let us invest that time in developing our community, our personal bonds, and by doing so, ensure that we’ll know and trust one another so much that we’ll be able to endure the intermittent existence of the centuries to come. What say you?”
Riffan hadn’t once considered returning to cold sleep since he’d escaped it. He’d also had a lot of wine, so he was quick to call out: “I think it’s a fine idea!”
Laughter greeted his response. Alkimbra placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and, in a voice surprisingly deep for his compact frame, announced, “I agree! An excellent strategy!” Several other cheerful endorsements followed.
Then Pasha called out in her no-nonsense voice, “I think we will need to be awake more than three years to catch up on all we missed.”
“Yes, exactly,” Naresh said in a loud, clear voice, making himself heard amid other calls of support from around the terrace.
“Can we all agree, then?” Tarnya asked. “Does anyone object?”
If anyone did, they didn’t say so aloud.
Vytet stood up next, his tall slim figure aglow with a halo cast by a lantern that hung behind him. Riffan leaned forward to listen. Vytet’s gentle voice commanded a rapt attention from the ship’s company as he reminded them, “We are a frontier people. Our ancestors always looked outward in curiosity toward new suns and new worlds. But they also looked back along the star paths their ancestors had taken, and they kept records of what they saw.