Narval was off to his destiny.
##
Zolan stood among a throng of space-suited citizens below the Revenge, from where he watched it ascend and move off. Minutes later, none but Zolan remained.
Aware of his awesome responsibility, a sense of serenity in the power of his will suffused Zolan's being. He had been faithful to the science and art of his chosen profession, and his devotion to the Sentinels' mission had enriched his harmony with all about him. It had come to this.
Tilting his head back in the clear plastic helmet of his suit, Zolan watched the Revenge enter the spunnel node. He lost interest and headed for a space taxi.
Climbing aboard, he punched in his identifier code and the coordinates for a tunnel warehouse fifty kay distant where he had a clearance on file. The taxi digested the data, reported to its master control inside Coldfield, and received the required permission. The taxi rose briskly in a tight turn and accelerated toward a range of low hills.
Out of sight beyond a hillock, Zolan reached into the circuitry behind the instrument panel, manipulated connections, and punched in new coordinates. The taxi paused and aligned to the new course, Zolan's hands on its manual controls. The advance notification to control center was inoperative.
Charon grew in size up ahead as the taxi approached. Zolan stabilized the flitter to hover stationary barely a meter above the frozen methane. As he disembarked, Zolan reached behind the instrument panel and readjusting the circuits. Transmissions from the taxi's computer would soon resume and indicate a routine return from the previously entered destination. Zolan watched the taxi out of sight.
The distant tiny sphere that formed the solar Sun was a wonder to behold against the black velvet sky and the clusters of distant galaxies. He absorbed once more the splendor of the planets in their graceful courses around the giver of life. He recalled and visualized each planet, natural and artificial satellite and space station out to the Guardians. He had roamed among them all; they were the only home he had known.
A sense of weariness seemed to overpower him; he could not delay. He searched the heavens for a star with which to orient himself. Finding it, he faced the direction wherein lay the secret spunnel booster through which he would send his message. Ram would know how it had come, what it meant, and what it had cost.