"Why here?" Kri'en asked. "It's the middle of nowhere."

M'lora didn't look up from her book. "Actually, it's the beginning of Nowhere," she said.

Kri'en sighed. "Please don't," he muttered. "Please. Just for once—"

Too late. M'lora launched into a recital of the prophecy for the sixth time in two hours:

"When the Age of the Third Moon is dust and all hope is lost save for the words I now speak, know that the time is right. Two shall go forth, two of the people in your fastest ship, a man and woman, wed but childless and both sterile, and they shall set course for the Edge of Life, into the Nowhere. There they shall find the Child of d'Dahjlonica, and maybe, in the people's time of greatest need and peril, you will be saved."

Kri'en let his head fall onto the table with a soft thunk.

"Please, M'lora. I know the old prophecy. How could I not?"

All of the people knew the prophecy, of course. Billions of years ago, it had been given to them by the Deities. It had been puzzling back then, in a time when not even ships of the water were common. Now, ships raced through space, and the words were clearer. Some had forgotten the old prophecy by the time the first line came true. A jarring event had reminded them of the ancient words. The Third Moon of the Homeworld had crumbled into dust without any warning. It had been the first part of the "greatest need and peril" of the prophecy's last line. The Universe was, naturally, expanding. Most scientists had agreed that once it was done expanding, it would begin retracting again, until it was set for another Great Explosion, and then the cycle would restart. It had begun retracting, all right. But not like they had thought.

They had expected, perhaps, empty space to shrink, for the distance between planets and systems and galaxies to get smaller. The Third Moon's destruction was a wake-up call for all. The Homeworld was in d'Thynar, the first galaxy. It was the edge of the Universe, and the Third Moon its farthest point. The Universe had stretched to its limit, and as it began to contract, the Third Moon became a horrifying example.

It had not been pushed inwards, rolled aside like a child's ball. It had been crushed into powder. And panic had ensued.

It was no small matter to evacuate from one's galaxy. They had ships, of course. They could reach other galaxies easily. However, they could not pack up a planet and take it with them. They needed a means of creating food, and a way to change a world's atmosphere to one in which they could thrive. These things, despite their many advances, had never been accomplished. No one had seen a need or felt a desire to live outside of d'Thynar, and therefore, no one had put effort into devising a means to that end. Now it was too late.

The galaxy's population was bundled into several hundred fleets of ships, but they had nowhere to go and food enough for at most a hundred years. People remembered more strongly than ever the old prophecy. Kri'en and M'lora, by whatever chance, were the only heterosexual married couple to be both sterile and childless, or at least the only such couple to step forward. They had been all but tossed into a scout ship and sent to the Edge of Life at top speed, a last desperate measure.

The Edge of Life was just past the third or fourth galaxy from d'Thynar, and it was so called because it was the last place where signs of life were found on any planets or moons. From the Edge on out, there was nothing but barren and toxic worlds. Long ago, the people had deemed the space beyond it the Nowhere. It was where life ended, and where an endless Universe of unliving worlds began. Kri'en, for one, did not have much hope of finding salvation out here.

"What do you think the Child of d'Dahjlonica is?" M'lora asked.

Kri'en raised his head, surprised. M'lora was still looking at her book, but her eyes had stopped moving. She was no longer reading.

"I don't know," Kri'en said. "It sounds like a person, I suppose, though I don't see how a person could help us."

"It could be a creation," M'lora said. "People like to give inventions fancy names like that."

Kri'en hummed in thoughtful agreement. "What's d'Dahjlonica, then?" he asked. "An inventor? Maybe one of the old Deities? The word meant something like 'traveler' in the old language."

"Maybe it's an alien planet."

Kri'en had entertained that thought himself. Since the old prophecy had come true, a lot of the old speeches from the Deities had been called into the light, no longer as outdated myths, but as ancient histories. M'lora began reciting again. Kri'en sighed. At least it wasn't the prophecy this time, he told himself.

"My children, I have planted you here like seeds in the soil, and know this: that I have sown seeds in many gardens. I hope, one day, you shall be able to meet my other children, but that day is yet a long way off. Until then, grow and thrive here in the light and warmth."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Kri'en said. "We do not know that d'Dahjlonica is even a planet. It could be anything."

"No, dear, not anything," M'lora said. "It couldn't be us. We're the childless couple of prophecy, remember?"

Kri'en smiled, but the expression faded when the ship's computer issued a series of beeps.

"We're here," he said.

M'lora bookmarked her book and stood up. Together, they walked to the screen. It showed a field of stars, one brighter than the rest due to its proximity. Absolutely nothing moved. Nothing glowed. Nothing leapt out declaring itself the Child of d'Dahjlonica. The beginning of Nothing was as inspiring as it sounded.

Nevertheless, Kri'en and M'lora stood before the screen and watched the endless space fly by. All at once, M'lora's hand shot out and brought the scout ship to a halt. Kri'en saw it, too. Something drifted through the space before them. Its center was a round, dish-shaped thing, and several long, spindly appendages extended from it.

"What's that?" M'lora asked. She leaned closer to the screen. "Is it alive?"

"It looks mechanical," Kri'en said. "Hang on, I'll lock on the magnet beams and pull it into the cargo hold."

Several minutes later, they stood before the strangest piece of machinery either had ever seen. It was made of a strange metal, and it looked worse than ancient. Kri'en examined it with a scanner.

"It is worse that ancient," he said aloud. "This thing is almost a trillion years old. And . . . I think it opens."

"Opens?" M'lora repeated. "As in, for access to the inner workings, right?"

"No," Kri'en said. "Well, yes, that too, but there's an interior compartment." He handed the scanner to M'lora. "And it isn't empty."

It took a long time to figure out how to open the thing. It wasn't easy; the wheels of time and exposure to the harsh elements of space had battered and melted and cracked and fused it, and in the end, they had to cut it open with a ray gun. Inside, they found . . . what?

"What is this?" M'lora wondered, hefting the strange disk-shaped object. "It's a little heavy for its size. Gold?"

"At least gold-coated," Kri'en said. He took the disk in his own hands. "Maybe it's a sacred item to some alien culture. Like a totem, or something."

"Why would it be sent into space?"

"A greeting, maybe."

M'lora hummed. "Is this . . . do you think? The Child of d'Dahjlonica?"

Kri'en perked up. "Hey, I'll bet it is! It could be called a traveler, I guess. Goodness knows it's traveled pretty far."

M'lora tugged his arm. He followed, still carrying the gold-coated disk.

"We need to set course for this thing's origin," she said urgently. "I doubt that totem can help us, but maybe the people who made it can. Maybe they'll help us if we return it; it could be valuable, or important. Come on!"

It took three weeks, even at maximum speed, to reach the planet that was (probably) the thing's origin. And there it was: a galaxy full of life, where none should be. They neared the first planet full of this life, and another ship, alien in design, flew to meet them. It escorted them to a planet where both crafts landed, and by the time Kri'en and M'lora left their ship, a person had left the other ship and stood waiting for them.

Kri'en had never stopped to envision an alien before, but if he had, it would not have been this. It was so much like him, like M'lora, like all their people. It did have only two arms and two eyes, but the similarity was jarring. From the alien's expression, it thought so, too.

It spoke.

Kri'en and M'lora exchanged glances. Apparently, their languages were not as alike as their bodies. The alien took two small things from its pocket and passed one each to Kri'en and M'lora. Then, it turned its head to show them how it wore a similar object inside of its ear. Assuming they were to put it in the same place, they slid the little knobs just into their left ears.

The alien spoke again, and to their amazement, a translation followed from the tiny ear-worn devices.

"They are translators," the alien said. "They are not perfect, but they will suffice. What brings you to the Milky Way, our galaxy? If it is war, I should warn you that Humans refuse to die."

These people, then, were Humans. Not d'Dahjlonica, as Kri'en had been wondering.

"We came in search of help," M'lora said. "Our galaxy, d'Thynar, the first and oldest galaxy, is caught in the contraction of the Universe. It is being reduced to the dust and gas of the next Great Explosion."

"This Universe is done expanding?" the alien asked.

"Yes."

"So, we may finally confirm the Big Bang," it said, more to itself than to them. Then, to them directly, "What help do you need?"

"We need worlds on which to live and where we can produce food," Kri'en said. "The worlds of the Universe are dead and poisonous, except, it seems, in our two galaxies."

"Most worlds in the Milky Way were once so," said the alien. "We changed them, made them livable. We can teach you, but you may not practice it on worlds in our galaxy. We wish this one to ourselves."

"We will choose another galaxy," promised M'lora. "Never fear. We want life, not conflict. We will go and tell our people that soon, we will have new worlds."

"Wait," said the alien. "You came to us not by chance. You took a straight course to this place. What led you here?"

"This," Kri'en said. He presented the disk to the alien, who took it with surprise. "This gold-coated totem of your people was adrift in an ancient machine near our space. We knew there was life somewhere along its course, and with it, the chance of help. If not for d'Dahjlonica—" for Kri'en now supposed that since the creators of the machine were called Humans, then the machine must be d'Dahjlonica and the disk the Child "—we would never have looked so far."

"The word d'Dahjlonica does not translate," said the alien.

"It is an ancient word," M'lora said. "It means 'traveler.'"

"Traveler." Clarity dawned on the alien's face. "Voyager. After all this time, still its voyage isn't done. Take the Record, and go, bring your people. We will help you build a new home."

"Is the Child not a sacred object of your people?" M'lora asked.

"In a way, yes" said the Human. "But it was built for you."