out.” Hamilton snapped the image to the main screen. Several planets appeared as well as a flashing light he pointed at labeled ARC .
“We’re here.” He pointed at another image. “And Earth is here.”
Sam studied the screen. “I can see that.”
It didn’t really look all that far to me.
“Computer, please calculate distance to Earth,” he said.
“Two point eight three million kilometers.”
“Not as bad as I thought.” Hamilton scratched his chin. “But it still doesn’t make any sense. We should have entered this spacetime just outside the orbit of the moon.” He ran through more screens, checking and rechecking his numbers.
“Well, there’s not much we can do about it now,” Sam said. “Let’s get moving. Noah?”
“I’m on it.” I brought my monitor back and punched up the coordinates for Earth.
“Computer, take us in.”
It took a little over three more hours to get to Earth, but somehow it felt much longer. We passed the moon and zeroed in on the blue planet. Finally the ship’s computer began preparing to enter Earth’s orbit. I exhaled loudly. We’d made it.
“Engage the light-deflecting shields,” Sam said. “No sense panicking the locals by letting sun reflect off our hull.” She tilted her head toward me and smiled. “Check on the pods again, then meet me in Hangar Bay One. I want to get down there as soon as we can. Hopefully Mom and Dad have kept themselves warm.”
Twisting and spiraling, I flew down a tube through the center of the whale habitat. Good thing I loved zero-g.
I didn’t need to check on all the animals—just the biggest, the ones who seemed to struggle most with disorienting changes in gravity. The whales sometimes had trouble knowing which way was up so they could surface for air.
I slowed and looked down through a window at the miniature sea. Small swells rolled back and forth on the surface as the artificial ocean spun around me. Within moments, the spray from all three whales spouted up toward my perch hundreds of meters above them. They didn’t seem to be having any trouble at all. I’d have loved to stay and watch, but I still had a few more animals to check on, and we had to get moving.
I checked the elephants last. A great expanse of African savannah spread out before me. It took a few minutes to spy the two gentle gray giants, both of whom acted as if nothing had changed. I was always amazed at how graceful the elephants were, how such a huge animal could walk without making a sound. I smiled while Fathiya laid her trunk across Elimu’s back. The pair seemed content with their new life aboard the ARC .
It occurred to me—not for the first time—how huge a thing we were doing. For the past several hundred years, no one had been able to watch elephants play or hear whales sing, hear a lion roar or see a horse gallop. We had to get Mom and Dad home so we could all carry out our mission: filling Earth with creatures once more.
I watched the elephants a few minutes longer, then headed to the hanger.
When I got there, Sam and Hamilton stood outside the hatch of a small ship called the Morning Star . She was the most beautiful ship we had—gleaming silver and built for speed. The wings curved forward, like a hawk about to unfurl its pinions after a dive. We had bigger ships—maybe even faster ships—but the Morning Star was special to me. She was the first ship I’d ever flown.
“Someone has to stay here,” Sam said. “What if something goes wrong?” She turned toward me. “Would you stay on board while Ham and I get Mom and Dad?”
“Why don’t we just radio down?” I said. “Surely we can get through from orbit.”
Hamilton shook his head. “Moses has been trying ever since we entered this time-stream. There’s been no response. We have no option but to go down to the surface.”
“I think you should stay,” Sam said.
“No way,” I said. “Neither one of you knows how to fly the Morning Star .”
Sam scowled