Epilogue

"Sorry, Mac," the bartender shrugged, "can't help you."

"Can't, or won't?" the guy asked, still shoving the stack of mixed Earth and New Earth credit notes toward him.

"Can't." the bartender looked him square in the eye for the first time. "Those two show up, have a drink or two, then I don't see them for months or years at a time. God knows where they hang out, but it ain't here."

"But damnit, I need to talk to them!" the guy did look desperate. "I mean, shit! I've been all over Human space, an' damn near everybody's seen 'em, but nobody knows how to get in touch with 'em! What the fuck am I gonna do! They're our only hope!"

"Wish I could help you, mister." The bartender said sincerely. He had gotten very good at being sincere. It was one of the reasons his bar was so popular with the lonely and the broken hearted. "But there's really nothin' I can do. I will tell you this: I don't figger there's a whole hell of a lot of any importance that goes on in this galaxy that they're not aware of, so if they figure your problem's worth lookin' into, they're prob'ly already on it."

"I hope you're right, man." The guy ran a trembling hand once more through hair that looked like it hadn't seen a brush in years. "Ev'rybody on Golinda hopes you're right. There's a big fuckin' fleet of mean ass aliens headed our way, and neither Earth nor New Earth can spare anybody to help!"

The man downed the dregs of his whiskey and dragged himself out of the bar. One more night in a sleazy spaceport hotel, then back on the next flight headed toward Golinda space. That's what I have to show for this expensive fuckin' wild goose chase. He thought bitterly. Sure hope Golinda's still there when I get back.

"It will be." A young man was suddenly walking beside him as if he'd been there all along.

"Wha-?" The Golindan stared open-mouthed at the young man. "Wha'dya mean?"

"I mean," smiled the young man, "that Golinda will still be there when you get back."

"B-but, how... ? Who... ?" he spluttered. "You're not... !"

"No, I'm not Prototype Ten. Since I have no prototype number, you'll just have to call me Sam. That's what my parents call me, anyway."

His mind still befuddled, the Golindan stammered, "Y-your parents?"

"Um-hm. Prototype Nine's my mom, Prototype Ten's my dad, and I can tell you man, adolescence sucks when your parents know everything you do and think!" The young man shook his head, smiling. "I have to admit, though, they only butt in on the important stuff, so they're pretty cool that way. Hey! That's kinda like your problem! They wanted to make sure there really was a problem they needed to butt in on before they tangled with those aliens. Turns out, they were able to reach a compromise. Found 'em a nice little out-of-the-way planet and promised to help 'em get started with their colonization. The aliens liked that idea a lot better than being teleported into a black hole somewhere!"

"Wait a minute!" The Golindan stared, unbelieving, at the kid. "You're telling me that Proto..."

"Will and Tina. It's a bit less cumbersome than all those 'prototype' names." The kid interrupted.

"... whoever! You're telling me that they're your parents, and that they've already taken care of the aliens that were about to attack Golinda? That's not possible! I would have heard... !"

"Now think about it, mister. Do you mind if I call you Sean? Okay, think about it, Sean. How long does it take a ship-borne message to travel from, say Golinda to here?" The kid was being patronizing, but wasn't rubbing it in too bad.

"Well, with sub-light transits into and out of the primary's gravity well, transfers and such, probably about six months, real-time..." He understood the basics of space travel, after all, he'd been chasing all over human occupied space for god-knew-how-long.

"... and," Sam continued for him, "since it's unlikely that your last message, telling them where you're going has reached Golinda yet, it could be up to a year before you hear about this from Golinda, right? So, how long do you think it takes Mom and Dad to get from one place to another? They got wind of your problem back when you were on New Taiwan, and decided to check it out. Once they figured out what to do, they sent me to fill you in before you have a heart attack. Speaking of which..."

Sean hadn't noticed, but as they talked, they continued walking, and now they were entering his hotel room. It didn't occur to him until later that he hadn't removed the key-chip from his pocket. Part of the reason it hadn't occurred to him, was the sudden appearance, directly in front of him, of a man and a woman. He looked to be in his forties, she in her late twenties or early thirties.

"Sorry it's taken so long to get back to you." The man said without preamble. "We had to get the All-takers settled on their new planet."

"All-takers?" Sean gaped.

"Their name actually sounds like 'Krch-numfl-maukli' as near as my mouth can pronounce it." The guy answered genially. "It means 'All-takers', though. Look, Sean, we'll be happy to answer your questions later, but you need to sit while I work on those blocked arteries or you'll have that heart attack before I'm done."