“My wife thinks he went out to M33 Galaxy. He talked about going there at times.”
“That’s about two hundred years away.” Deitrich pursed his lips. “Of course, there is a way that you can see your son again. And that is to take a transport to M33 yourself and look for him there. We can trace the destination of the fleet he left on, and you can get within regular transport distance of him. But the chances of finding him there are still no belter than the police methods of the system he terminates at.”
“But it is possible?”
“It is. However, while you are considering it, don’t forget that if you follow him, anything you leave behind you will be left behind for good. No coming back to see your relatives and friends. If you don’t take your family with you, by the time you get back your name may have evolved into something you might not recognize, because four hundred years or so is a long time to be away. Do you understand what I’m saying? You might as well die as far as anything or anybody left behind is concerned.”
Tsuroak nodded dumbly, and Deitrich continued.
“The brighter side of it is that things are pretty stable, even over such igreat spans—as a whole, that is. Barrng accident, you should be able to start over again wherever you terminate, although you will have to spend some lime adjusting yourself to the local conditions. There is a lime lag in development, you see, that exists for the destination as well as it does for you. Wherever you may go in M33 is probably about two hundred years behind us here as of this point in absolute time, if such a thing existed. There are certain shifts that are unpredictable. But they are relatively mild, at least as you go outward from the home. The other way would be much harder.”
“Is it—costly?” Tsuroak asked hesitantly.
“Since it was a government error that allowed your son to slip through. I think I can arrange it to have the government pay for your entire trip. You can take your immediate family and any reasonable amount of personal effects. And of course, standard intergalactic exchange credits for your money.”
Tsuroak stared at him uncertainly. “I have a small business,” he murmured. “Four other children—he was the oldest. My wife.”
Deitrich did not interrupt.