“I want the ones of the future to know that the Gerns will be here no later than two hundred years from now. And with always the chance that a Gern cruiser in space might pick up the signal at any time before then.”

“I see,” George said. “The sword of Damocles hanging over their heads, to make them remember.”

“You know what would happen to them if they ever forgot. You’re as old as I am⁠—you know what the Gerns did to us.”

“I’m older than you are,” George said. “I was nine when the Gerns left us here. They kept my father and mother and my sister was only three. I tried to keep her warm by holding her but the Hell Fever got her that first night. She was too young to understand why I couldn’t help her more.⁠ ⁠…”

Hatred burned in his eyes at the memory, like some fire that had been banked but had never died. “Yes, I remember the Gerns and what they did. I wouldn’t want it to have to happen to others⁠—the transmitter will be made so that it won’t.”