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“It’s ironic, that’s all,” said Ram Odin. “We created colony ships because that comet came so close to the kind of impact that would destroy all life on Earth. We had to create a colony so humans would exist on more than one world. And now you come back and destroy the human race on Earth.”

“I’ve come back to find out why Earth decided to destroy Garden,” said Noxon, “and talk them out of it, if I can. But I’m going to save the nineteen wallfolds of Garden, one way or another. Humanity may have arisen here, but that doesn’t mean they have a right to destroy Garden after 11,191 years of history there.”

“I agree,” said Ram Odin. “I’m just noting the irony.”

“Noted,” said Noxon.

“I’m afraid to die,” said one of the mice.

“You would hardly be sentient if you weren’t,” said Noxon. “But you are sentient, and that’s why I’m not going to leave you here, dead. I’m going to change the future if I can. Either way, I’ll come back and get you. Just remember that you will die, the first time through. But when I retrieve you, you’ll have no memory of that death. And you’ll know, once again, that I keep my word—even though you don’t.”

“So it’s settled,” said Ram Odin. “We park the ship where ice will cover it. Then you and I leave the ship and use the flyer to get us to a place that will someday be reasonably well-inhabited. From there we travel into the future, while the flyer—and our expendable friend—go back to the starship, kill everybody, and shut down all the systems. But we return in time to stop any of that from happening.”

“That’s the plan,” said Noxon.

“Only one problem,” said Ram Odin. “Fuel.”

“Oh?” asked Noxon.

“This ship can set down on a planetary surface,” said Ram Odin. “But on Garden, it was a bit of a sharp collision, right?”

“An extinction-level event,” said the expendable. “By design.”

“If we land more gently and nondestructively, can we get back up into space?” asked Ram Odin.

“We have been performing those calculations during your discussion of the ethics of temporary musicide,” said the expendable. “Since we made the return voyage to Earth without expending any fuel at all, and we began that voyage halfway through the huge energy expenditure of creating the fold and leaping into it, we definitely have enough fuel for a trivial task like rising from the surface of a small rocky planet and getting back to scoop velocity.”

Noxon had learned enough to know this meant the speed at which the powerful collection field could be extended to gather interstellar hydrogen and other dust to turn it into the plasma that fueled the ship.

“Then I think we’re all set,” said Noxon. “All that remains is to choose the right time. For that, Ram and I need to leave the ship for a while. And that means that the mice go back into the box.”

“No it doesn’t,” said a mouse.

Noxon took Ram Odin’s hand. “Expendable, please pick the mice off my body so I can begin time-slicing while you reduce the oxygen inside the ship to zero. It will mean I can’t come back and revive the mice, but that’s their decision.”

The mice scampered off his body and returned to the box, which the expendable was holding open for them. “You see we’re complying,” said a mouse.

“I’ll keep my word,” said Noxon, “but since I know you won’t, I can’t leave you in a position to alter the ship’s programming.”

“We already gave our word, but we understand your lack of trust,” said the mouse. “We’l

l look forward to your return.”

“Come with us to the flyer,” said Noxon to the expendable.

When they were inside the flyer, Noxon ordered a complete disconnection from the ship.

“Now it’s time for you to tell us,” said Noxon. “Did the mice already alter the ship’s programming so that my instructions won’t be obeyed after I leave here?”

“They did not,” said the expendable.

Noxon thought for a moment, remembering how many times in the past Vadeshex and other expendables had told lies while adhering to the strict truth.

“I think I asked the wrong question,” said Noxon. “They wouldn’t have to alter the ship’s programming to make it so my instructions would be disobeyed, because I’m not the commander of this ship.”

The expendable said nothing.

“Ram Odin is the commander,” said Noxon. “Right?”

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