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nearly as extensive as I remembered. The plants were just as green, but some of the grow lights were dim and others had burned out. The compartment that housed the fusion drive, while still huge, seemed smaller than before. There was no mess hall, no files of crewmen waiting in line to be served, no galley filled with gleaming bake ovens and ranges. Where it had been was a small, empty compartment that contained no odors of cooking, no crumbs of food. The old woman was still in the now-bare corridor selling her one precious volume. There was no shelf behind her jammed with other books. She looked at me with pity peeking out from behind the clouded lenses of her eyes. I felt the same for her—the Astron held neither the equipment nor the knowledge to heal her sight.
    On the way back, I glanced into several of the living cubicles, now devoid of their rich tapestries and elegant furniture. They were tiny cells, equipped with string hammocks, an occasional worn plastic table, a shelf attached to a bulkhead… There was very little else.
    I braked more expertly when I entered sick bay this time and yanked off my eye mask. The ports and stars promptly reappeared, as did the compartment beyond with its make-believe machinery. My fellow patients went on about their business, as oblivious of me now as they had been before. I held the mask before my eyes and once again was alone with Pipit.
    I was seventeen yearsold, I thought bitterly, a youthful mariner on an ancient ship bound for God only knew where.
    Pipit winced at the expression on my face. “You’ve forgotten the compartment falsies,” she said. Then she burst into tears.
    I was young and cried too easily, but this time tears were beyond me.
Chapter 4
    Ispent two more time periods in sick bay, most of it undergoing tests by Abel, who apparently wanted to make sure that my broken bones were healed and I was fit for duty. He poked and prodded, full of unconvincing “ hmmms” and variations of “Does it hurt?” I was wearing the mask over my eyes and ears but neither he nor Noah mentioned it.
    “You’re healthy,” Abel finally grunted. “You’re well enough to work so you can earn what you eat.”
    I resented his attitude, resented the ship, and was full of sarcasm. “I’m your only patient but you seem to eat well enough.”
    Noah smothered a grin but Abel’s plump features hardened with outrage.
    “Nobody gets sick on board the Astron , they just grow old. Do you want to blame me for that?”
    “We work at many tasks,” Noah sighed. “Be patient with us, Sparrow.And with yourself.” He meant well but I was too newly cynical to appreciate it.
    The next time period Pipit told me that I had been reassigned to Exploration. I was to report there immediately.
    There was nothing to pack; my waistcloth was my sole possession. I hesitated outside the hatchway, Pipit beside me, not knowing how to say good-bye. I hadn’t spoken to her since I had discovered the real Astron and accused her of deliberately deceiving me. I recalled too late how she had probably saved my life. I flushed and turned away; I wanted to thank her but a seventeen-year-old’sshyness had made me mute.
    Pipit was smarter and more compassionate than I was. She said, “I hope your memories come back, Sparrow,” kissed me lightly on the cheek, and ducked back inside the shadow screen. I was left with my apologies dying on my lips.
    It was the end of a shift and the passageways were filled with crewmen hurrying to their living cubicles or to the various shops. They were naked except for their waistcloths, color-coded for the division in which they worked, and their instrument belts. Like the caduceuses worn by Noah and Abel, their specialty insignia were stenciled on their shoulders. A few of them called out to me, but the children playing in the side corridors stared in silence as I drifted by.
    I was a man without a past, a freak, and everybody knew it. I anticipated being pitied or patronized and