It doesn’t have to be Malenfant. Maybe I could take his place. Save him, and progress the project anyhow.
She wrapped her arms around herself. Malenfant is full of doubt and fear. Even now he might not be able to make it, make the sacrifice. But he is out there gathering his strength, his purpose. I could never emulate that.
The Gaijin waited with metallic patience.
“Take him,” she whispered, hating herself as she uttered the words. “Take Malenfant.” Take him; spare me.
And, as soon as she made the choice, she remembered Malenfant’s inexplicable coldness when she had arrived here.
She had ended up betraying him. Just as, she realized now, he had known she would, right from the beginning.
She buried her face in her hands.
After maybe a full day, Malenfant returned. Madeleine was sitting beside a sluggish stream, desultorily watching the evolution of Galaxy-core gas streamers.
Malenfant came running up.
He threw himself to the grass beside her. He was sweating, his bald pate slick, and he was breathing hard. “Jogging,” he said. “Clears the head.” He curled to a sitting position, catlike. “This is a hell of a thing, isn’t it, Madeleine? Who would have thought it?… Nemoto should see me now. My mom should see me now.” The change in him was startling. He seemed vigorous, rested, confident, focused. Even cheerful.
But she could see the battered photograph of his dead wife tucked into his sleeve.
She hugged her knees, full of guilt, unable to meet his eyes. “Have you decided what to do?”
“There’s no real choice, is there?”
Tentatively she reached for his hand; he grabbed it, squeezed hard, his calm strength evident. “Malenfant, aren’t you afraid?”
He shrugged. “I was afraid the first time I climbed aboard a shuttle orbiter, sitting up there on top of millions of tons of high explosive, in a rickety old ship that had been flying thirty years already. I was afraid the first time I looked into a Saddle Point gateway, not knowing what lay beyond. But I still climbed aboard that shuttle, still went through the gateway.” He glanced at her. “What about you? After…”
“After you’re dead?” she snapped impulsively.
He flinched, and she instantly regretted it.
She told him about the Gaijin’s offer of a ride home.
“Take it. Go see Earth, Madeleine.”
“But it won’t be my Earth.”
He shrugged. “What else is there?”
“I’ve been thinking,” she said shyly. “What if we — the sentients of the Galaxy, of this generation — do manage to come through the next reboot? What if this time we don’t have to go back to the ponds? What if we get a chance to keep on building? If I keep on rattling around the Saddle Point gateways, maybe I’ll get to see some of that.”
He nodded. “Beaming between the stars, while the network gets extended. Onward and onward, without limit. I like it.”
“Yeah.” She glanced up. “Maybe I’ll get to see Andromeda, before I die. Or maybe not.”
“There are worse ambitions.”
“Malenfant. Come with me.”
He shook his head. “Can’t do it, Madeleine. I’ve thought it over. And I bought Cassiopeia’s pitch.” He looked up at the sky. “You know, as a kid I used to lie at night out on the lawn, soaking up dew and looking at the stars, trying to feel the Earth turning under me. It felt wonderful to be alive — hell, to be ten years old, anyhow. But I knew that the Earth was just a ball of rock, on the fringe of a nondescript galaxy. I just couldn’t believe, even then, that there was nobody out there looking back at me down here. But I used to wonder what would be the point of my life, of human existence, if the universe really was empty. What would there be for us to do but survive, doggedly, as long as possible? Which didn’t seem too attractive a prospect to me.
“Well, now I know the universe isn’t empty, but crowded with life. And, even with the wars and extinctions and all, isn’t that better than the alternative — better than nothing? And you know, I think I even figured out the purpose of our lives in such a universe — mine, anyhow. To make it better for those who follow us. What else is there to do?” He glanced at her, eyes cloudy. “Does that make any sense?”
“Yes. But, Malenfant, the cost—”
“Nemoto said it would be like this. Humans can’t change history, except this way. One of us, alone, going to the edge—”
Suddenly it was too much for her; she covered her face with her hands. “Fuck history, Malenfant. Fuck the destiny of the universe. We’re talking about you.”
He put an arm around her shoulders; he was warm, his body still hot from his run. “It’s okay,” he said, trying to soothe her. “It’s okay. You know what? I think the Gaijin are jealous. Jealous, of us wretched little pink worms. Because we got something they don’t, something more precious than all the Swiss-Army-knife body parts in the universe, something more precious than a billion years of life.”
But now the Gaijin stood before them, suddenly there, tall and stark.
“So soon, Cassiopeia?” Malenfant said, his voice unsteady.
I AM SORRY, MALENFANT.
Malenfant straightened up, withdrew his arm from Madeleine’s shoulders. She felt the reluctance in the gesture. She’d provided him comfort after all, she realized; by caring for her, he had been able to put off confronting the reality of it all. But now, in the silent person of the Gaijin, the reality was here, and he had to face it alone.
But here was old Esau, grinning from one side to the other of his flat face, deep eyes full of starlight. He was signing: the fistto the forehead, then left palm flat upright, supporting the right fist, which was making a thumb’s-up gesture. Hey, Stupid. I’ll help you.
Malenfant signed back. What help me what what?
Forefinger and middle finger together, on both hands, held out like a knife; a sharp chop downward, a stark, unmistakable sign. To die.
Chapter 34
The Children’s Crusade
Cassiopeia embraced him.
He was pulled into her body, articulating arms folding about him. He could smell the burning tang of metal that had been exposed to vacuum, to the light of a hundred different Suns. And now finer arms, no more than tendrils, began to probe at his body, his skin, his mouth, his eyes.
Through a mist of metal cilia, he could see Madeleine on the hillside before him, weeping openly. “Tell them about me, Madeleine. Don’t let them forget.”
“I will. I promise.”
Now warm metal probed at his ears, the membranes of his mouth, even his eyes. Probed and pierced, a dozen stabs of sharp pain. Then came an insidious penetration, and he could taste blood. “It hurts, Madeleine.” He cried out; he couldn’t help it. “Oh, God!”
But now Esau was before him, signing vigorously. Stupid Stupid. Watch me me.
Malenfant tried to focus as the pain deepened.
Esau sat on the hillside. By the light of Galaxy-center stars, he held out a core of obsidian.
Malenfant reached forward. His bare arms trailed long shining tendrils, back to the cold body of the Gaijin, within which he was merging. He could move his fingers, he found. But they glinted, metallic.
Esau was still holding out the glassy rock, thrusting it at him.
Malenfant took the rock. He could feel its rough texture, but remotely, as if through a layer of plastic. He turned it over in his hands.