Telander shuffled close. “What have you found?”

Chidambaran took him by the elbow and pointed at the screen. “There. Do you see?”

On the edge of perception gleamed the dimmest and tiniest of sparks.

“A good ways off, naturally,” Foxe-Jameson said into the silence. “We’ll want to maintain a most respectful distance.”

“What is it?” Telander quavered.

“The germ of the monobloc,” Dhidambaran answered. “The new beginning.”

Telander stood long and long, staring, before he went to his knees. The tears ran quietly down his face. “Father, I thank Thee,” he said.

Rising: “And I thank you, gentlemen. Whatever happens next… we have come this far, we have done this much. I think I can carry on again… after what you have just shown me.”

When he finally left to return to the bridge, he walked with the stride of a commander.

Leonora Christine shouted, shuddered, and leaped.

Space flamed around her, a firestorm, hydrogen aglow from that supernal sun which was forming at the heart of existence, which burned brighter and brighter as the galaxies rained down into it. The gas hid the central travail behind sheets, banners, and spears of radiance, aurora, flame, lightning. Forces, immeasurably vast, tore through and through the atmosphere: electric, magnetic, gravitational, nuclear fields; shock waves bursting across megaparsecs; tides and currents and cataracts. On the fringes of creation, through billion-year cycles which passed as moments, the ship of man flew.

Flew.

There was no other word. As far as humanity was concerned, or the most swiftly computing and reacting of machines, she fought a hurricane— but such a hurricane as had not been known since last the stars were melted together and hammered afresh.

“Ya-a-ah-h-h!” screamed Lenkei, and rode the ship down the trough of a wave whose crest shook loose a foam of supemovae. The haggard men on the steering bridge with him stared into the screen that had been built for this hour. What raged in it was not reality— present reality transcended any picturing or understanding— but a display of exterior force fields. It burned and roiled and spewed great sparks and globes. It bellowed in the metal of the ship, in flesh and skulls.

“Can’t you stand any more?” Reymont shouted from his own seat. “Barrios, relieve him.”

The other jet man shook his head. He was too stunned, too beaten from his previous watch.

“Okay.” Reymont unharnessed himself. “I’ll try. I’ve handled a lot of different types of craft.” No one heard him through the fury around, but all saw him fight across the pitching, whirling deck. He took the auxiliary control chair, on the opposite side of Lenkei from Barrios, and laid his mouth close to the pilot’s ear. “Phase me in.”

Lenkei nodded. Together their hands moved across the board.

They must hold Leonora Christine well away from the growing monobloc, whose radiation would otherwise surely kill them; at the same time, they must stay where the gas was so dense that tau could continue to decrease for them, turning these final phoenix gigayears into hours; and they must keep the ship riding safely through a chaos that, did it ever strike her full on, would rip her into nuclear particles. No computers, no instruments, no precedents might guide them, It must be done on instinct and trained reflex.