“Of course not. We’re not riding the Earth. We’ve got the Eiferman. Give us some time. When Barry’s finished with his measurements, we’ll do a jump, a light-year or two, and make another set of observations. That’ll allow us to figure out which ones are close enough to have been likely destinations for whoever lived on that frozen world.”

•  •  •

In fact, they had thirty-one candidates by midafternoon. Derek ordered the jump, and Hutch took them forward one light-year. Barry then determined the ranges, and Derek worked out a schedule.

Their first choice turned out to be a binary; a pair of stars orbiting each other. “I should have told Barry to rule out any binaries,” Derek said. “I assumed he knew that wouldn’t work for a stable system.”

The second selection had, as far as they could determine, no planets, at least none within a habitable range. The third, however, revealed a world in the middle of the habitable zone, and it was filled with life. Broad continents were overrun with large, lumbering lizards and flexible plants that seized and clung to whatever smaller creatures got within range. “They certainly wouldn’t have come here,” said Beth.

Hutch and Derek were on the bridge; the others were seated on the front porch, watching telescopic images on the display: close-ups of a bird with a huge beak and claws patrolling a beach, and a giant worm attacking a colony of insects.

“Okay,” said Derek. “Let’s move on.”

Hutch was happy to leave. “Barry,” she said, “get ready to head for Number Four.” She warned everybody in the cabin.

“Something I should point out,” said Barry. “Number Four is directly in the path of the black hole.”

“That eliminates Four,” said Hutch. “No way they’d have evacuated there.”

“Barry,” said Derek, “would we be going out of our way to travel to Four?”

“No, sir. Not much.”

“How much?”

“Approximately a day.”

“If no one objects, why don’t we take a look?”

Derek Blanchard, Extract from Notebook, Intended for Autobiography

I should have noticed Four was in the path of that thing when I was putting together the schedule. Getting old, I guess. In any case, I probably would have checked it out anyhow. Who knows what might be there?

—Saturday, April 12, 2256

20.

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,

Healthy, free, the world before me,

The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

—Walt Whitman, “Song of the Open Road,” 1856