“They were trying to protect the revolution when they clipped Leon Trotsky out of Ten Days That Shook the World.

“The trouble is—they were wrong, and they helped to destroy the expedition.”

“What?” I said.

“I mean the revolution.”

Derek made the gesture that meant “you are absolutely nuts.”

“What does that mean?” asked Agopian.

“You people are crazy.”

Agopian nodded. “That’s right. And that is what I’m going to tell Ivanova. It has to stop. I’m not entirely certain what she will do. I want other people to know what is going on.”

“You think she will harm you?”

“Accidents happen. There were people on the crew who refused to go along with the plan. We froze them.”

“Forcibly?” I asked.

He nodded.

“There is a two percent chance of irreversible major damage,” I said. “That’s on the first time a person is frozen. Every time after, the damage rate goes up.”

He nodded again. “It’s possible that I’m a murderer. I think about that a lot. I’m not against killing per se. There are times when it is justified. But I don’t think this is one of those times.”

He took another swallow of beer, then set the bottle down and leaned forward. “I want to give Ivanova a chance to—what? Turn herself in, I guess. I don’t like the idea of being a fink. But I don’t want to give her the chance to eliminate me.”

“Are you serious about this? Do you really think you’re in danger?”

“I think there’s a possibility. Not large. There’s no way for her to freeze me here. And I don’t think she’s likely to kill me. But we have been playing a lot of stupid games.” He paused and tilted his head. “They’re done talking. I’d better get back.” He stood.

“Is this a moral issue?” asked Derek. “Have you decided that lying is wrong?”

Agopian grinned. “That’s an unusual question for you to ask.”

Derek waited.

Agopian said, “I do not like to think that I’d fit into the era of Joseph Stalin. And I don’t think we can get away with it. There has been too much lying, and it has involved too many people. It’s only a matter of time before somebody talks—or somebody figures out what has been going on.” He walked to the railing, then turned and looked back. “I kept the messages. When people see them, they are not going to want to go home.” He went over the railing and onto shore. A minute or so later I heard his voice, greeting someone on the other boat.

Derek said, “This is not a situation that can be handled with beer. This calls for wine. Or maybe brandy.” He got up and collected the bottles and went into the cabin.

I sat quietly, listening to Agopian speaking in Russian. His voice was light and quick and fluent. Ivanova’s rich contralto answered him. They were not talking about anything serious. I could tell that by the tone.

Derek came back with two glasses of wine. He gave me one.

“He isn’t a practical joker, is he?” I asked.

“No. And I can’t imagine that a compulsive liar would have gotten on the ship. I think we can assume he’s telling the truth.”

“Amazing!”

“It certainly is that.” He sat down and leaned his shoulders into the chair. “It explains some oddities in the information from home.”

“What are we going to do?” I asked.

“Drink this wine, then go to bed.”

I frowned.

“He isn’t going to have his confrontation tonight. Eddie is there and Mr. Fang. He’ll want to get Ivanova alone.” He drank a little wine. A bug with scarlet wings drifted down into the light. It landed on the rim of his wine glass. He smiled. The bug remained for a minute or so, waving its wings. Then it took off again, floating over the railing into the darkness above the river.

“I think—tomorrow—we had better tell Eddie. We owe him that. If Mesrop is right, the messages are going to change how people think about this planet. It’s possible that we may be looking for a new home.”

“Here?” I asked.

“Maybe. The trip home is over a hundred years. We’ll be two and a half centuries out-of-date. Maybe things will have swung back by then. I doubt it. History may be a helix. It is not a circle. We never return to the place where we began.”

“You sound like a Marxist.”

He stood up, grinning. “Those sad out-of-date people?” He set down his glass. It was still half-full of wine. “Poor stupid Agopian! Good night.”

He entered the cabin. I finished my drink, then followed him, shutting off the lights.

I undressed in darkness, unfolded a bed, and lay down. How could I sleep? I listened to the breathing of my companions and thought about home. The Free State of Hawaii. The Great Lakes Confederation. Alta California. Nuevo Mexico. Gone. All gone. The nations and tribes of North America.

I woke and found the cabin empty, got dressed and went outside. Eddie and Derek sat drinking coffee. There was a pot on the table and an empty cup. I filled the cup, then sat down.

A lovely morning! Clouds floated over the valley, bright in the early sunlight. The river was in shadow. It gleamed dark brown, like bronze.

“Where is the oracle?” I asked.

“Up at the village,” Derek said. “He’s getting food. Tatiana went with him. She wanted another look at the natives in situ.”

I glanced at Eddie. His expression was unusually somber. “Have you told him?”

Derek made the gesture of affirmation.

“What are we going to do?”

Eddie said, “I’d like to keep the story quiet, but I don’t think it’s possible.”

“You would?” I drank a little coffee, then leaned back in my chair. Was there any pleasure equal to coffee on a cool summer morning?

Well, yes. But this wasn’t the time to make a list.

“If I understand correctly, Mesrop says we won’t fit in on Earth. I think we are going to hear arguments in favor of staying here and establishing a colony.” He paused. “They must have been crazy. It doesn’t make sense to me. There was no way they could keep a secret that big. There was no way they could succeed in rewriting that much history.” He paused again. “I think I can understand what Agopian is doing now. He’s pushing us toward intervention.”

I made the gesture of disagreement. “I don’t think he’s plotting. I think he’s trying to get out of a plot.”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Derek said. “And never think he does anything for simple reasons. He’s a dangerous man. He thinks ideas are important.”

“Don’t you?” I asked.

“Ideas are fine to play with in a university. But they don’t have a lot to do with life. I can’t imagine killing for any kind of abstraction. And I certainly would not sacrifice myself. Agopian would. He has.”

Eddie said, “What are you and Derek going to do? That’s what I want to know.”

I looked at him.

“Are you going to tell this story to the people at the camp?”

“No.”

Eddie looked surprised—and hopeful, if I was reading his expression right.

“That’s up to Agopian. If he decides to keep quiet, or if anything happens to him, Derek and I will tell. Otherwise, no.”

“Scratch plan A,” said Derek. “Which is to shut up Agopian in one way or another. Lixia, you’re closer to the coffee.”

I refilled his cup.

“There’s no escape, Eddie. Agopian’s going to make his big confession. And we’re going to start to think about staying on this planet. He made Earth sound really unpleasant.”

“He might be wrong,” said Eddie. “Or lying. There’s no reason to believe him.”

I leaned forward. “He kept copies of the messages. The original ones. The data is—are—there.”

“He must have the biggest personal file on the ship,” said Derek.

“He could have altered those messages. Maybe they’re the fake ones.”

Derek said, “You’re suggesting that Agopian’s story is a lie, and that he has been spending his spare time creating a fake history of Earth—which he’ll now present as the real, suppressed history.”