But if it’s the last thing the kid ever told him, at least it was good advice. Ernie’s going to keep Janine as close as he can. He’s already decided he’s taking her to Davio’s tonight if she’s up for it. If not, the next night, maybe. He figures it’ll all work itself out. They’ve got time.
HIMSELF IN ANACHRON
Cordwainer Smith
Cordwainer Smith was the pseudonym of American writer Paul M.A. Linebarger. As a child, he traveled and lived overseas in Europe and also the Far East with his family and was fluent in several languages. His first professional science fiction story, “Scanners Live in Vain,” was published in Fantasy Book in 1950; however, it wasn’t until the mid-1950s that he was encouraged to write more. Most of his science fiction was written between 1955 and 1966. In addition to his many short stories, he also wrote one science fiction novel, Norstrilia, and three mainstream novels, Ria, Corola, and Atomsk. This story was published posthumously in his definitive collection, The Rediscovery of Man, in 2003.
And Time there is
And Time there was
And Time goes on, before –
But what is the Knot
That binds the time
That holds it here, and more –
Oh, the Knot in Time
Is a secret place
They sought in times of yore –
Somewhere in Space
They seek it still
But Tasco hunts no more …
HE FOUND IT
from “Mad Dita’s Song”
First they threw out every bit of machinery which was not vital to their lives or the function of the ship. Then went Dita’s treasured honeymoon items (foolishly and typically she had valued these over the instruments). Next they ejected every bit of nutrient except the minimum for survival for two persons. Tasco knew then. It was not enough. The ship still had to be lightened.
He remembered that the Subchief had said, bitterly enough: “So you got leave to time-travel together! You fool! I don’t know whether it was your idea or hers to have a ‘honeymoon in time,’ but with everyone watching your marriage you’ve got the sentimental mob behind you. ‘Honeymoon in time,’ indeed. Why? Is it that your woman is jealous of your time trips? Don’t be an idiot, Tasco. You know that ship’s not built for two. You don’t even have to go at all; we can send Vomact. He’s single.” Tasco remembered, too, the quick warmth of his jealousy at the mention of Vomact. If anything had been needed to steel his determination, that name had done it. How could he possibly have backed out after the publicity over his proposed flight to find the Knot. The Subchief must have realized from the expression on his face something of his feelings; he had said with a knowledgeable grin: “Well, if anybody can find the Knot, it’ll be you. But listen, leave her here. Take her later if you like but go first alone.” But Tasco could remember, too, Dita’s kitten-soft body as she nestled up to him holding his eyes with her own and murmuring, “But, darling, you promised…”
Yes, he had been warned, but that didn’t make the tragedy any easier. Yes, he could have left her behind, but what kind of marriage would they have had with the blot of her bitterness on the first days of their married life? And how could he have lived with himself if he had let Vomact go in his place? How, even, would Dita have regarded him? He could not deceive himself; he knew that Dita loved him, loved him dearly, but he had been a hero ever since she had known him and how much would she have loved him without the hero image? He loved her enough not to want to find out.
And now, one of them must go, be lost in space and time forever. Tasco looked at her, his beloved. He thought, I have loved you forever, but in our case forever was only three earth days. Shall I love you there in space and timelessness? To postpone, if only for minutes, the eternal parting, he pretended to find some other instrument which could be disposed of, and sent through the hatch one person’s share of the remaining nutrient. Now the decision was made. Dita came over to stand beside him.
“Does that do it, Tasco? Is the ship light enough now for us to get out of the Knot? Instead of answering he held her tightly against him. I’ve done what I had to, he thought … Dita, Dita, not to hold you ever again …
Softly, not to disturb the moon-pale curve of her hair, he passed his hand over her head. Then he released her.
“Get ready to take over, Dita. I could not murder you, oh my darling, and unless the ship is lightened by the weight of one of us we will both die here in the Knot. You must take it back, you have to take back the ship and all the instrument-gathered data. It’s not you or me or us now. We’re the servants of the Instrumentality. You must understand…”
Still within his arms, she backed away enough to look at his face. She was dewy-eyed, loving, frightened, her lips trembling with affection. She was adorable, and Cranch! how incompetent. But she’d make it; she had to. She said nothing at first, trying to hold her lips steady, and then she said the thing that would annoy him most. “Don’t, darling, don’t. I couldn’t stand it … Please don’t leave me.”
His reaction was completely spontaneous: His open hand caught her across the cheek, hard. A reciprocal anger flashed across her eyes and mouth, but she gained control of herself. She returned to pleading.
“Tasco, Tasco, don’t be bad to me. If we have to die together, I can face it. Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me. I don’t blame you…” I don’t blame you! he thought. By the Forgotten One, that’s really rather good!
He said, as quietly as he could, “I’ve told you. Somebody has got to take this ship back to our own time and place. We’ve found the Knot. This is the Knot in Time. Look.”
He pointed. The Merochron swung slightly back and forth, from +1,000,000:1 to –500,000:1. “Look hard – twenty-years-a-minute-plus to ten-years-a-minute-minus. The ship has a chance of getting out if the load is lightened. We’ve thrown everything else we could out. Now I’m going. I love you; you love me. It will be as hard for me to leave you as for you to see me go. A lifetime with you would not have been enough. But, Dita, you owe me this … to take the ship back safely. Don’t make it harder for me. If you can hold it on Left Subformal Probability, do it. If not, keep on trying to slow down in backtime.”
“But, darling…”
He wanted to be tender. Words caught in his throat. But their time had run out. Their honeymoon had been a gamble, their own gamble, and now it and their life together were over. Three earth days! The Instrumentality remained; the Chiefs and Lords waited; a million lives would be a cheap price for a fix on the Knot in Time. Dita could do it. Even she could do it if the ship were lighter by a man.
His farewell kiss was not one she would remember. He was in a hurry now to finish it; the sooner he left, the better her chances were of getting back. And still she looked at him as if she expected him to stay and talk. Something in her eyes made him suspicious that she would try to hinder him. He cut in his helmet speaker and said:
“Goodbye. I love you. I have to go now, quickly. Please do as I ask and don’t get in my way.”
She was weeping now. “Tasco, you’re going to die…”
“Maybe,” he said.
She reached for him, tried to hold him. “Darling, don’t. Don’t go. Don’t hurry so.”
Roughly he pushed her back into the control seat. He tried to hold his anger that she would not let him do even this right, to die for her. She would make it a scene. “Sweetheart,” he said, “don’t make me say it all over again. Anyhow, I may not die. I’ll aim for a planet full of nymphs and I’ll live a thousand years.”