He had promised himself glory—and surely he had earned it. Despite jealousy and so many enemies conspiring against him, he would have everything. He would trample all who had opposed him. He would take his revenge for past indignities. If this interminable flight ever ended. He counted the days. He circled his cabin and, when that grew old, paced the corridors. If his meandering took him to one specific passageway more often than to any other, he deemed that coincidence. And yet— Doubts gnawed at him. Others had snatched success from his jaws before. His foes would stop at nothing to cheat him again. So how would he return to Hearth? In triumph? Or to another banishment? Pak had warred among themselves for eons. Where better than in the Pak Library to find technologies with which to squash the Gw’oth? Who better to install behind all other Citizens than the genius, the visionary, who delivered that great prize? And yet— Enemies always and everywhere beset him. They would bleat like lamed calves about trivia.
