“We’ve come to the conclusion that he’s left the system.”
After allowing the proper pause, Deitrich said, “That’s too bad. But—what can I do about it?”
Tsuroak rubbed his hands together, thick, tough, heavily-veined skin whitening from the pressure. “It was just a silly argument,” he said. “I had no idea—Sir, they tell me that you are the only time-jump pilot in the system right now. I… that is, my wife and I… thought that maybe you could go up and get him and explain things to him a little bit. And bring him back.”
“I’m afraid—” Deitrich started, but the little merchant interrupted him immediately.
“I can pay you, sir. Not too much, I guess. But something. Maybe a lot if you’ll just wait a few years.”
Deitrich shook his head. “I’m sorry, Tsuroak. Money is not the question. What I wanted to say was that you seem to be under a rather popular misconception. A time-jump transport moves in time, as its name indicates. But only one way. Forward. As far as I know, nobody has ever been able to go the other way. Perhaps in the future.”
Tsuroak protested mildly. “But how do you travel so far and get back again. The stars—”
“When a time-jump leaves the Eighteen Planets System,” Deitrich replied, “you will never see it again in your lifetime. It is run simply on a basis of suspended animation. You set the course, punch out a control code, and all of a sudden you find yourself at your destination. But actually you’ve been unconscious for the entire trip, even if it takes a thousand years. It’s called a time-jump because subjectively you are not affected by the passage of time.”
The little man’s heavy shoulders sagged. His face showed his disappointment, and he murmured, “I told her that it wasn’t like she thought.” He paused, meditated briefly, and then said, “So he’s gone. We’ll never see him again.”
Deitrich watched, keeping his face devoid of expression. He said, “Three intergalactic transports have left here during the past, six months. Do you have any idea at all where he went?”