It was an American history class, so she talked about the space program, how it had begun as a competition between two major powers near the beginning of the Cold War. “The United States made it to the moon, primarily as a political gesture. Then, when the Cold War ended two decades later, both sides discovered that manned flight was too expensive and, as far as the political leaders were concerned, it had no point.”

She’d brought some visuals, pictures of distant stars and worlds, of interstellars entering orbit, and of ruins from dead civilizations. And of course she had images of monuments left across the Orion Arm by an alien race that had been driven to make an artistic imprint. Those got more attention than any other aspect of the presentation. The species was famous and the students knew they’d lost everything, had devolved into primitives who now had no idea who their ancestors had been.

During their last few minutes the students asked her to describe what it was like to ride in an interstellar and to walk on another planet. And about this mission that she was going to lead; what did she think they would find?

At this point a boy near the front of the room waved his hand. “Ms. Hutchins,” he said, “do you think maybe you should not do this?”

“You think because it’s dangerous?”

“Yes. They’re saying that you might get us all killed.”

A small blond girl a couple of desks away turned toward him. “Oh, shut up, Roger.”

“He’s got it right,” said a girl in back.

It would have devolved into a loud argument except that Maureen stepped in. “Ms. Hutchins has heard the debate. Mom, you want to respond?”

“Roger has a point,” Hutch said. “But there’s always a risk when we try something new. Where would we be now if Columbus had decided that looking for a shortcut to the Far East was too dangerous? If he’d never come to Americas?”

“I bet,” said the girl in back, “that the Native Americans would be happy.”

•  •  •

When the class ended and the students were on their way to the next period, Maureen told her she was still pure gold. “But they may be right,” she said. “Don’t you think we’d all be better off if you stayed home?” Her eyes acquired an appealing look. “Please, Mom.” Then the kids for the second-period class were filing in.

It went much the same way, except that the issue of public safety surfaced more quickly and the kids got louder. There were a few tears, and they didn’t buy Hutch’s argument that safety was simply not an issue. “It’s political,” Hutch said.

When they’d finished, she got moderate applause. Several of the children gathered around her, looking angry and upset. “Please, Ms. Hutchins,” said a boy who looked particularly rattled. “Don’t go. Don’t help them.”