“Was the call received?”

“Yes. No FTL communications existed in those days, you may recall. So when the winter did not abate and it became obvious it would not, the colonists realized that even an answered call might come too late. They expected nothing soon. But there was supposed to be a transfer pod only two light months out, with an FTL pod pre-programmed for the nearest Fleet sector headquarters. That’s how emergency calls went out: sublight to the transfer point, which launched the pod, and the pod carried only a standard message, plus its originating transfer code.”

Lunzie wrinkled her nose, trying to think when they might have expected an answer. “Two months, then. How long to the Fleet headquarters?”

“Should have been perhaps four months in all. An

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FTL response, a rescue attempt, could have been back within another two or three. Certainly within twelve Standard months, allowing decel and maneuvering time on both ends. The colonists would have had a hard time lasting that long. They’d have to eat all their seed grain and supplies. But most of them would have made it. instead,” and he sighed again, spreading his big gnarled hands.

“I can’t believe Fleet ignored a signal like that.” Unless someone intercepted it, Lunzie thought suddenly. Someone within Fleet who for some reason wanted the colony to fail.

“It didn’t!” Zebara gave her hands a squeeze, then stood, the robe swirling around him. “Let me fix you something. I’m thirsty a lot these days.” He waved at the selection revealed behind one panel of his desk. “Fruit juices? Peppers?”

“Juice, please.” Lunzie watched as he poured two glasses, and gave her the choice of them. Did he really think she worried about him drugging her? And if he did, should she be worried? But she sipped, finding nothing but the pleasant tang of juice as he settled beside her once more.

He took a long swallow, then went on. “It was not Fleet, as near as we can tell. At least, not they that ignored an emergency pod. There was no emergency pod.”