The Black Hole by Alan Dean Foster

her back."
    "Dr. Reinhardt?" McCrae purposely made herself sound as helpless and childlike as possible. The man might be a blind visionary, but he was not insensitive. Procuring the funds for construction of the Cygnus had required understanding as well as force.
    Her approach worked. His manner changed with startling abruptness as he turned to face her. The smile he bestowed on her verged on the paternal.
    "My dear child, I know who you are, as I know the identities of your companions. I can foresee your question. I'm sorry to have to dash your hopes, but your father is dead."
    McCrae sagged despite her belief that she had prepared herself for that answer. Holland comforted her as best he could. To imagine that her father might be alive was one thing. No amount of preparation had actually readied her to hear his actual fate from the lips of the one man in a position to know.
    "Sorry, Kate." Durant wished there were more he could say. He was as inept with words as Holland. They left that department to Booth and to the rambunctiously glib Pizer.
    "A man to be proud of," Reinhardt continued, trying to console her. "It was a grave personal loss to me, though never as strong as it must be to you. He was a trusted and loyal friend."
    Diplomacy or no, Holland found he could no longer ignore the questions raised by the emptiness of the tower and the sections of the Cygnus they had already passed through.
    "And the rest of the crew?" He watched the scientist closely.
    "They didn't make it back, then?" Reinhardt appeared simultaneously hurt and surprised, as if he had expected Holland's words but had hoped not to hear them.
    "No. What do you mean, 'make it back?' What . . .?"
    "Pity. A good crew, good people all. Dedicated to their mission."
    "Wait a minute," said Booth sharply. "I'm missing something here. We know that the mission was eventually recalled to Earth. Yet you and the ship are here, and you say the crew is . . .?"
    "Expenses again. Yes," murmured Reinhardt.
    "What happened after the recall was issued? You did receive it?" Would Reinhardt, Booth wondered, have a reasonable explanation for the mystery that had teased the people of Earth for twenty years?
    The scientist took a deep breath, then began without looking at them. "I did as you would expect me to—argued, pleaded, even threatened. But an order like that could not be ignored, though I would have done so if I could.
    "But there were others aboard and I knew their sentiments. Also, we had been gone from Earth for many years. The feelings of many of the crew toward their mission had changed. Weakened, I would say, but they were all, after all, only human. The reaction was to be expected."
    He paused for a moment, waiting for comments. There were none.
    "We turned about and set course for Earth to comply with the orders. Despite all our precautions, we ran into difficulty. We encountered a phenomenon no one had expected, not those of us aboard ship nor the people who had designed the ship.
    "While traveling at supralight speeds, we passed through a vast field of a unique variety of heavy particles. We were through the field before its effects or even its presence could be predicted. There our drive was permanently disabled, despite the best efforts of our technical-repair staff. All our communications facilities were likewise damaged, beyond any hope of calling for aid.
    "There was one remaining option—abandoning the ship and utilizing two of our three auxiliary survey craft to return directly to Earth. As their drive systems had been quiescent during the particle-field storm, they proved to be undamaged."
    Booth started to say something, but Holland placed a restraining hand on his arm.
    Reinhardt nodded at the reporter, then continued his story. "I knew this was the choice the crew preferred," he said. "And so I made it easy for them by ordering them to abandon ship and return home as directed. I told them I would attempt to put the Cygnus on the same course to