Bierly. My fears have been put to rest, and our work can go forward together with new confidence.”

He beamed at Drake, who slowly nodded. “I have only one more question. Why did Melissa choose me, of all the Resurrects?”

“I can only pass along to you the conjecture of Rozi Tegger. You alone possess an independence of mind and spirit. The other Resurrects cluster together and follow each other. You pursue your own agenda, steadfastly. Melissa Bierly liked that. And also, she conceivably thought of it as a challenge to her own powers.”

It had not been, not at all. Drake realized that. He was dismayed by his own lack of resolve. From now on, he would keep his goal clearly in focus.

And one more thing, above all others: he must never again, under any circumstances, mention Ana’s name to Par Leon.

Par Leon’s great project continued, faster than expected. He and Drake worked together as a perfect team. By the middle of the sixth year they were approaching completion. They had also become close friends, or as close as Drake dared to permit; close enough, however, to sense that Par Leon, a good man by any moral compass that Drake would ever be able to comprehend, was beginning to worry about something else.

He said little to Drake, beyond hinting at other possible collaborations. Drake read the deeper concern. What would the future hold when the project ended? It had apparently not occurred to Par Leon six years ago, but a resurrection was not unlike a birth. And now, like a parent, Par Leon felt responsibility for the future of his “offspring.”

Drake was soon able to reassure him, and in an unexpected way. While they were still putting the finishing touches to their mammoth study of the “ancient” music of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, he started to compose again. He had learned during the project that musical knowledge of the time before his birth had some big gaps in it, and facility in different musical idioms had always come easily to him. He could steal tricks from the giants of the past, dress them in a modern style, and pass it off as innovation.

In less than a year he had a burgeoning reputation, which he knew was undeserved, a group of imitators, largely untalented, and — most important — a growing financial credit.

At last he could delicately explore a long-postponed question. He chose his moment carefully, when Par Leon was euphoric over a particular section on thematic influences that Drake had just completed.

“A couple of days more, and I will be finished.” Drake did his best to sound casual. “How about you?”

He knew the answer. They had agreed that Leon would be responsible for the final overall review, to ensure uniformity of style.

“Four weeks,, at least, from the time that I have all the pieces.” Leon sounded apologetic. “I can’t do the final assembly in any less time.”

“You shouldn’t rush. The last review is the most critical one.” Drake stretched and yawned. “I could stay around and help you, you know. On the other hand, if you don’t need me while you’re working through the material, I thought maybe I would take a vacation.”

“Do it. You’ve earned some time off — more than earned it.” Leon sounded relieved. The last thing a successful project needed was two people trying to direct the final pen.

“I was thinking of having a look at some of the rest of the solar system. You know, in my time we’d seen pictures of all the planets, but only a handful of people had been as far as the Moon.”

“Which is considerably farther than I have been — or choose to go!” Leon’s furry eyebrows went up. “Why would you want to travel so far? You are not an astronomer, or a terraform designer, or an astronaut. There’s absolutely nothing out in space for a musician.”

“I think it might help me in composition. New visual experiences always stimulate my musical imagination.”

“You mean, we might get new music from you? Then by all means, go, and enjoy yourself. Visit Venus, tour Titan, meet Mars. Produce something to match this.” Par Leon began to rap on the desk in front of him the rhythm of the ‘Mars, the Bringer of War’ section of Gustav Hoist’s ‘The Planets.’ With their own work so close to its end, he was in high good humor.

“I’d like to go.” Drake had to be careful what he said next. “I was just wondering if I’d be able to afford it.”

The smile on Leon’s face was replaced by a puzzled frown. “Afford it?”

“The cost of the fares. Mars is a long way away.”

Par Leon frowned, as though he did not understand the relevance of the remark. “The cost? Who are you proposing to take with you?”

“No one. Just me.”

“Then cost does not enter into it. The ship will fly itself.”

“But who pays for the ship?”

“The question is meaningless. There are ships available, as many as you want. But they are manufactured automatically. Machines make them, and they also fly them. Machine use is free. There is no human cost to making and flying a ship. Cost becomes relevant only when you demand that human time be devoted to something. Like now.” Par Leon laughed, his good humor restored. “I could charge you for this advice, you know. But I won’t. Go on, Drake, take your holiday. You’ve certainly earned it.”

“I will. In a few more days.”

“But if you are crazy enough to go to space, don’t ask me to go with you!”

Drake laughed, too. He did not mention the subject again to Par Leon, but in the next week he quietly took accelerated courses in astronautics, astronomy, and space systems, subjects that previously had never interested him at all. He was astonished by what he found. Par Leon had understated the situation. Ships were available in abundance, with drives that could take them close to light speed. It made Drake reevaluate all his own plans. He had been thinking that he would have to return to a frozen state. Now there might be other options.

He did not even try to understand the technique of inertia shedding that bypassed what should have been a killing 4000g acceleration as the ship moved to and from the light-speed region. That understanding required a working knowledge of a Science language far beyond his capabilities. Instead, he thought of the changes in the world. If this capability had been around at the end of the twentieth century, it would have been used by millions. Now, few people seemed to care. Although the stars were within easy reach, humanity was not stretching out to enfold them. Civilization seemed stable, static, content to remain within the comfortable limits of the solar system. Was that progress, or was it regress?

After nine days Drake was ready. He had done all that he could. The night before he was scheduled to depart he invited Par Leon out for a ceremonial dinner. By this time it was assumed that they would eat and drink comfortably in each other’s presence. Leon had hinted once or twice at a more intimate relationship, but he had not been offended when Drake declined.

They went to Leon’s favorite eating place, ate his favorite foods, and drank his favorite wines. It was an unexpected bonus that by coincidence one of Drake’s own new compositions was playing in the background.

“There.” Par Leon jerked his head toward an invisible speaker. “That is real and deserved fame. Music good enough to eat to.”

“But not to listen to.” Drake shrugged off the compliment. “Table music is like table wine, usually nothing special. Telemann could compose it as fast as he could write it down.”

“True. But do not undervalue yourself, my friend. Mozart’s divertimenti are often both artful and memorable.”

The conversation was on satisfying and familiar ground. Drake felt the glow that comes with good, compatible company. He was going to miss that.

The urge to tell the full truth became very great.

Surely, if he confided in Par Leon his commitment and the depth of his feelings, the other man would become a willing accomplice.