Starplex

“Not the United Nations, of course,” said Amundsen. “Dolphins don’t have the spine for something like this. But we’re sure the HuGo will vote for it.”

Keith turned to Kenyatta. “It would be a mistake to let this escalate, Premier. The Waldahudin know how to destroy a shortcut.”

Amundsen’s sapphire eyes went wide. “Say that again.”

“They could cut us off from the rest of the galaxy—and they only need to get one ship through to Tau Ceti to do that.”

“What’s the technique?

“I—I have no idea. But I’m assured it works.”

“All the more reason to destroy them,” said Kenyatta.

“How did they sneak up on you?” asked Commissioner Amundsen. “Here at Tau Ceti, they sent one large mother-ship through, and it disgorged fighters as soon as it arrived. I understand from what Dr. Cervantes said while she was here that they sent individual craft after Starplex. How was it that you didn’t notice when the first one arrived?”

“The newly emerged star was between us and the shortcut.”

“Who ordered the ship to take that position?” asked Amundsen.

Keith paused. “I did. I give all the orders aboard Starplex. We were engaged in astronomical research, and had to move the ship away from the shortcut to facilitate that. I take full responsibility.”

“No need to worry,” said Amundsen, grinning like a skull. “We’ll make the pigs pay.”

“Don’t call them that,” said Keith, surprising himself.

“What?”

“Don’t call them that name. They are Waldahudin.” He managed to say the word as a bark, with perfect accent and asperity.

Amundsen was taken aback. “Do you know what they call us?” she asked.

Keith shook his head slightly.

“Gargtelkin,” she said. “ ‘Ones who copulate out of season.’ ”

Keith suppressed a grin. But then he sobered. “We can’t go to war with them.”

“They started it.”

He thought of his older sister and younger brother. He thought of an old black-and-white movie with dueling anthems, the Marseillaise drowning out Wacht am Rhein. And he thought most of all of the sight of the young Milky Way, cupped in his outstretched hand.

“No,” said Keith simply.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” snapped Amundsen. “They did start it.”

“I mean it doesn’t make any difference. None of it does. There are beings out there made of dark matter. There are shortcuts in intergalactic space. There are stars coming back from the future. And you’re worried about who started it? It doesn’t matter. Let’s end it. Let’s end it here and now.”

“That’s exactly what we’re talking about,” said Premier Kenyatta: “Ending it once and for all. Knocking the pigs on their hairy asses.”

Keith shook his head. Midlife crisis—for all of them, humans and Waldahudin. “Let me go to Rehbollo. Let me talk to Queen Pelsh. I’m supposed to be a diplomat. Let me go and talk peace. Let me build a bridge.”

“People have died,” said Amundsen. “Here at Tau Ceti, humans beings have died.”

Keith thought of Saul Ben-Abraham. Not the horrid picture that usually came to mind, Saul’s skull opening like a red flower in front of his eyes, but rather Saul alive, great wide grin splitting his dark beard, a home-brewed beer in hand. Saul Ben-Abraham had never wanted war. He’d gone to the alien ship looking for peace, for friendship.

And what about the other Saul? Saul Lansing-Cervantes—unable to carry a tune, sporting a silly goatee, shortstop on one of Harvard’s campus baseball teams, a chocoholic—and a physics major, the kind they would draft to be a hyperdrive pilot if it came to war.

“Humans have died before, and we have not sought vengeance,” said Keith. Rhombus had been right. Let it go, he’d said. Let it all go. Keith felt it leaving him, the unpleasant thing he’d carried around for: eighteen years. He looked at the two women. “For the sake of those who have died—and for all those who would die in a war—we have to put out the fire before it’s too late.”

* * *

Keith reboarded his travel pod, left Grand Central, and headed back toward the shortcut.

He had spent hours arguing with Commissioner Amundsen and Premier Kenyatta. But he wouldn’t give up. This was the windmill he’d been looking for. This was the battle worth fighting—the battle for peace.

An impossible dream?

He thought of his great-great-grandfather’s wonder-filled life. Cars and airplanes, lasers and moon landings.

And his own wonder-filled life.

And all the wonders yet to come.

Nothing was impossible—not even peace. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

Sufficiently advanced. Races did grow up, did enter a state of maturity…He was ready for that. At last, he was ready.

Others must be, too.

Borman, Lovell, and Anders had cupped the Earth in their hands. Just a quarter of a century later, that same world had begun disarming itself. Einstein hadn’t lived to see it, but his impossible dream of putting his nuclear genie back in the bottle had come to pass.