Then, almost before their life together had begun, there was Aldebaran. Susan was sent Earth-side, to nearly a year in the hospital and then her work in security, while Karl was transferred to another shipboard command. She hadn't heard from him since Aldebaran.

But now, here he was-again in her life. And in spite of what he said, he still held her responsible for Aldebaran. Without him actually saying so, Susan knew he did. It was evident in the lack of emotion in his gaze.

She could not fault him for that. After all, she, too, blamed herself.

"This is hangar four, Captain," the corporal said as he stepped to a door. He inserted his LIN/C and the door irised open.

Hyatt stood with his back to Susan and her guide, leaning on a railing, looking down at something below her field of view. The corporal motioned her through, then followed. The door irised closed behind him.

The Survey Service Director turned from the railing as Susan stepped out onto the narrow catwalk ringing the large hangar high up on its wall. His gaze met hers and held it, as it had in Admiral Renford's office on Fleet Base. They both remained silent for several seconds.

"There she is," he finally said, turning back to the railing, "S. S. Photon." There was a strange expression on his face-unnatural. Then Susan suddenly realized the Survey Service Directory was actually smiling, something she had never before seen him do-neither in person nor on any of his many holovid broadcasts.

She stepped to the railing and looked down into the hangar. Beneath brilliant overhead lights, in one corner of the cavernous hold, sat a ship.

As a rule, a space craft was not a thing of beauty, but a highly sophisticated and strictly functional collection of hardware. This ship was no exception. Its nearly spherical outer hull was painted non-reflective black and deformed by the myriad bumps, pits, and spikes of sensor pickups. The ship was smaller than any Federation Fleet ship Susan had ever served aboard-as small as a lifeboat. A dozen men in white coveralls crawled over its skin like achromatic ants on an apple, adjusting its supersensitive eyes and ears.

"It will be cramped in there," Susan said, more to herself than to either of the men present.

Hyatt again turned his grim stare on her. "She is not a Fleet destroyer, Captain." His voice became comically high with sudden rage. "She is a one-man Survey Service scout ship. We refuse to waste limited General Fund money on unnecessary luxuries."

He had used the feminine pronoun in referring to the ship, a practice that had gone out of style nearly two hundred years ago. And, although he didn't actually say it, the implication had been plain enough: Fleet did waste money on luxuries.

Letting the insult go unanswered, Susan asked, "Is that the ship I'll be piloting?"

Hyatt nodded, then turned back to the ship. "She's something very special- totally unlike anything you've ever flown. There is only one other like her in existence."

Susan glanced to the young corporal who had been her guide, standing at Hyatt's right elbow and gazing out past the older man, into the hangar. It was evident from the look of rapt awe in his hazel eyes that he longed to take a more active part in the adventure unfolding around him.

"How long before I lift?"

"I don't know yet. My technicians aren't finished outfitting Photon. Then there's my impostor-we've momentarily lost track of him. We know he's somewhere in the asteroid belt, but we're not sure where. And until we know exactly where he is, your mission has been put on indefinite hold."

"What is this mission?"

"You will be told that when the time is right."

Again Susan fell silent. Finally she asked, "Why me? Why not send one of your own people?"

"Let's just say it would not be the political thing to do right now." He turned toward Susan. "If I sent out another civilian, and he didn't return, the publicity would be far worse than if I lost a military pilot. The press would have a field day, and I'd lose General Fund money."

"Another civilian?"

"That's correct. Photon's sister ship, Tachyon, has been missing nearly a year."

Susan nodded. It was beginning to make sense. If she failed, all the blame could be placed on Fleet, and again Survey Service would come out unblemished. But if she succeeded, she knew Hyatt would not hesitate to take the credit.

"Then it is mere politics, like Admiral Renford said?"

Hyatt's face flushed, and for several seconds he seemed unable to speak. Finally he said, "There is nothing mere about politics, Captain. Politics can feed the poor, or put a man into deep space and keep him there. Or, for that matter, a woman."

When she did not respond, he continued. "As far as I'm concerned, this assignment is strictly volunteer. I didn't want you to begin with, and I'm sure there are plenty of other Fleet pilots who would be glad to take the assignment."

"Fleet pilots with my security experience?"

"Hang the security experience. That is not the only reason you were chosen."

"The testing you mentioned in Admiral Renford's office?"

"The abilities you were tested for are essential, but you're not the only one possessing those abilities."

"Exactly what was I tested for?"

"You will learn that in good time, as well."

And now anger began to boil within her. She took a deep breath, then said, "Look, you're going to have to start leveling with me-"

"I don't have to do anything. You will be told what I want you to know, when I want you to know it. Is that clear?"

"But-"

"You don't seem to understand, Captain. We will find someone else if we have to. It would be difficult to replace you, but certainly not impossible."

Susan didn't say another word. Instead, she stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the Survey Service Director.

"Do you wish to pilot this mission," Hyatt asked after a few seconds, "or don't you?"

He knew her record. He knew she would do anything to get back into deep space. This was perhaps her last chance to prove herself-not only to Fleet, but to herself as well. She could answer that question only one way.

"Yes," she said without hesitation, "I want to pilot your ship."

Of course I'll take the assignment, she thought as she hurried down the corridor toward her quarters. There had never been any question of that. This was the chance she had been waiting ten years for-a way back into deep space-and there was no way she could possibly turn it down.

But Hyatt wasn't telling her the entire story. For some reason-probably something to do with retaining General Fund money-he was feeding her information only a little at a time. She did know that there was a sister ship, and that it hadn't been heard from in nearly a year. She assumed her assignment would be to rescue Tachyon, but she didn't know the mission's destination.

She forced those thoughts down as she approached her quarters, and a sudden anxiety filled her mind. Someone waited in her rooms; her strange ability subtly told her as much.

Stopping just beyond the spore-lock's sensor range, she listened intently for the sound of breathing or a muffled thump, but there was nothing quite so obvious. Only the vague mental hint that someone waited on the other side of the door.

Could she trust that feeling? The last time she had been in danger-in the corridor outside the curio shop on Fleet Base-the ability had not worked for her. It had not warned her of the attack. Could it be working opposite now, telling her there was someone there when there was not?

She had no choice; she had to act as if there was someone in her rooms. She knew she should turn around, go find a member of the Luna City police force. Yet, by the time she returned with help, her unseen assailant would surely be gone. Whoever was in her rooms could simply wait for another opportunity to catch her alone. If she went in now, at least she would know what to expect.