Cole’s lips moved. “Icarus—”
“Icarus went as expected. As you expected.” Sherikov leaned toward the bed. “Cole, I promised you something. I mean to keep my promise—as soon as you’re well enough.”
“To return me to my own time?”
“That’s right. It’s a relatively simple matter, now that Reinhart has been removed from power. You’ll be back home again, back in your own time, your own world. We can supply you with some discs of platinum or something of the kind to finance your business. You’ll need a new Fixit truck. Tools. And clothes. A few thousand dollars ought to do it.”
Cole was silent.
“I’ve already contacted histo-research,” Sherikov continued. “The time bubble is ready as soon as you are. We’re somewhat beholden to you, as you probably realize. You’ve made it possible for us to actualize our greatest dream. The whole planet is seething with excitement. We’re changing our economy over from war to—”
“They don’t resent what happened? The dud must have made an awful lot of people feel downright bad.”
“At first. But they got over it—as soon as they understood what was ahead. Too bad you won’t be here to see it, Cole. A whole world breaking loose. Bursting out into the universe. They want me to have an ftl ship ready by the end of the week! Thousands of applications are already on file, men and women wanting to get in on the initial flight.”
Cole smiled a little, “There won’t be any band, there. No parade or welcoming committee waiting for them.”
“Maybe not. Maybe the first ship will wind up on some dead world, nothing but sand and dried salt. But everybody wants to go. It’s almost like a holiday. People running around and shouting and throwing things in the streets.