Contraband From Otherspace

XXIV

Time had passed.

How long, Grimes did not know, nor would he ever know. (Perhaps, he was often to suspect later, this was the next time around, or the time after that.)

He half opened his eyes and looked at the red haired woman who was shaking him back to wakefulness—the attractive woman with the faint scar still visible between her firm breasts. What was her name? He should know. He was married to her. Or had been married to her. It was suddenly of great importance that he should remember what she was called.

Susan… ?

Sarah…?

No…

Sonya…?

Yes, Sonya. That was it…

"John, wake up! Wake up! It’s all over now. The Bomb blew us back into our own continuum, back to our own Time, even! We’re in touch with Port Forlorn Naval Control, and the Admiral wants to talk to you personally."

"He can wait," said Grimes, feeling the fragments of his prickly personality click back into place.

He opened his eyes properly, saw Williams sitting at his controls, saw Serressor, nearby, still youthful, and with him the gangling adolescent who was Mayhew.

For a moment he envied them. They had regained their youth—but at a dreadful risk to themselves. Even so, they had been lucky.

And so, he told himself; had been the human race—not for the first time, and not for the last.

He thought, I hope I’m not around when our luck finally does run out.