Time’s Eye

Ruddy lay back against the rock, hands clasped behind his broad head, the clouds reflected in his thick glasses. “The thirteenth century,” he said wistfully. “What a marvelous journey this is turning out to be. I thought I was coming to the North—West Frontier, and that was adventure enough, but to be whisked to the Middle Ages! … But I admit it isn’t wonder I feel at the moment. Nor even fear, over the fact that we are lost.”

Josh sipped his lemonade.

“What, then?”

Ruddy said, “When I was five years old I was sent to stay with foster parents in Southsea. It’s a common practice, of course, for if you’re an é parent you want your children to be grounded in Blighty. But at five I knew nothing of that. I hated that place as soon as I set foot in it—Lorne Lodge, the House of Desolation!—I was punished regularly, in truth, for the dreadful crime simply of being me. My sister and I would comfort ourselves by playing at Robinson Crusoe, never dreaming I would one day become a Robinson Crusoe in time! I wonder where poor Trix is now … But what hurt most about my situation, I see now, was that I had been abandoned—as I saw it then—betrayed by my parents, and left in that desolate place of misery and pain.”

“And so it is here,” Josh mused.

“Once I was abandoned by my parents,” Ruddy said bitterly. “Now we are abandoned by God Himself.”

That silenced them for a while. The night seemed huge, under a sky populated even by alien stars. Bisesa hadn’t felt quite so stranded since the moment of the Discontinuity, and she ached for Myra.

Abdikadir said gently, “Ruddy, your parents meant the best, didn’t they? It’s just that you didn’t understand how you felt.”

Josh said, “Are you suggesting that whoever is responsible for what has happened to the world—God or not—actually means well?”

Abdikadir shrugged.

“We are human, and the world has been transformed by forces that are clearly superhuman. Why should we expect to understand the motives behind such forces?”

Ruddy said, “All right. But do any of us actually believe there can be benevolence behind this meddling?”

Nobody replied.

14. Last Orbit

Suddenly it was their last orbit: perhaps the last orbit of Earth ever to be traveled by humans, Kolya thought wistfully. But the necessary preparation was unchanged, and once their training kicked in, the three of them began to work together as effectively as they had since the start of this strange adventure. In fact Kolya suspected they were all comforted by the familiar routine.

The first task was to pack the living compartment with their garbage—including most of the contents of their post-landing survival kit, already consumed. Sable stowed her scavenged ham radio gear in the descent compartment, however, for it could still be useful after landing.

Now it was time to suit up. They took turns in the living compartment. First Kolya pulled on his elasticized trousers, tight enough to squeeze body fluids up toward his head, which ought to help him avoid fainting after the landing—invaluable but grossly uncomfortable. Next he pulled himself into the suit itself. He had to climb in legs first through a hole in the stomach area. The inner layer, of a tough rubbery material, was airtight, and the outer layer, of a hardy man-made fabric, was equipped with pockets, zippers and flaps. Under gravity this assembly would have been all but impossible to don without the support of the ground crew. But here he thrashed around until he got his legs in place, his arms in the sleeves, the back fitting snugly. He was used to his suit; it even smelled like him, and in case of disaster it would save his life. But after the freedom of weightlessness he felt as if he had been locked up inside a tractor tire.

Suited up, he scrambled back down into the descent compartment. The three of them strapped in. Musa had them don their helmets and gloves, and ran a pressure check on the suits.

For the last time the Soyuz passed over India, and their radio footprint reached Jamrud. The little speaker Sable had rigged to her ham radio gear crackled to life.

“ …Othic calling Soyuz, come in. Soyuz, Othic, come in …”

Musa called, “Soyuz here, Casey. How is our trusty capcom today?”

“The rain is pissing on me. More important, how are you?”

Musa glanced at his crew. “We are strapped in, tight as three bugs in a rug. Our systems check out, despite the additional time we have spent in orbit. We are ready for the descent.”

“That Soyuz is a tough old bird.”

“That she is. I will be sorry to say good-bye to her.”

“Musa, you understand we have no way of tracking you. We won’t know where you come down.”

“We know where you are,” Musa said. “We will find you, my friend.”

“God and Karl Marx willing.”