Piece Simul ✔

Chapter 58- Samuel- The Last Planet on the Left

Forster had rid them of one problem. Yet, Samuel lamented on the remaining laundry list of ills to overcome.

His friends, had he had any, would've complained about his lack of optimism. Always with the downside. Samuel considered it the careful, practical approach.

Like acknowledging that even as he possessed the ingredients for a cure, it didn't do much good if they couldn't get back to Earth within a reasonable amount of time.

"Travel to Earth will take approximately 391 days," Genly informed the crew.

"But what about the green shit? Isn't that helping us power up faster?" Russ asked.

Genly nodded a glowing lucite head. "The timetable is because of the accelerant, calculated with the current trajectory."

Another non-science person chimed in, and Samuel closed his eyes to take a deep breath.

"What if we change the trajectory?"

"The S.S. Delaney is on the optimal trajectory," Genly replied to Tiptree.

She drew her knees to her chest, horror gripping her features. "But it's already been ten years," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Russ patted her arm, saying, "I'm sure Kass will be okay."

"Time may be a small factor," Forster announced. Bags hung under his eyes, and his celebrity vibrancy had waned. He looked as drained as Samuel felt, but continued, "The bigger worry is the radio silence from Control."

He shared how Kathar had faked new Control transmissions to trick them. The real comms satellite was disabled, but with time, Hainish promised to fix it.

Samuel clutched the device. He intended to describe his latest findings. This was the second meeting they'd had this last week.

They went like clockwork:

-Genly made guesstimates
-Non-science types asked asinine questions
-Forster made a nominally important announcement

Nothing else. Even as Samuel walked away feeling as though he should say something, he never did.

Estrenar would've brought it up. But she was too busy healing in a dura-chamber.

The idea was too radical, and might cost them their lives. At least this other slower way, they would make it.

~*~

As Forster requested of him and Russ, Samuel went through the files and personal effects of the remaining crew.

"Make sure there's no more of those green fucks," had been Forster's command.

Russ had tossed Kathar's living quarters, and Samuel had searched Estrenar's. It was there he pocketed her interface, later scrolling through her notes in the privacy of his cot.

Most of her observations had been cutting, to say the least:

-Crewmember Rodriguez radiates trauma. Could be useful.

-Crewmember Tiptree is too whiny for space. Send help.

-The Captain is only the fifth-best lay I've ever had.

-Crewmember Skeegan looks perpetually out of sync.

He had rested the device on his chest. What did that mean? It was the sort of statement that rang true, but only because it wasn't quantifiable.

When he flipped to the next set of notes, instead of scathing remarks, he found what he'd been hoping for: scientific entries.

-Due to the scant details provided by the janitor-lady Russ, I can only theorize what occurred with the S.S. Delaney. The possibility of a temporal anomaly is too large to ignore.