Virgil’s smile transformed into a feral grin. No time for me to get there, none to come back, which will take an hour of their time each way. I’ll be totally out of their control. I could race my laser signal back and almost win. Come in an explosive second, at least. They’ll get a laser message in teleport-plus-two hours-their time-saying that I made it to Saturn. A few moments later they’ll learn that DuoLab has blown up in a blinding fireball. Master Snoop wiped out once and for all. He gently rolled his middle finger against the note in his palm. That was the hard part, to choose between Master Snoop and Nightsheet. You knew where Master Snoop was, but Death Angel was only a clue to Nightsheet’s whereabouts. And besides, Master Snoop never let me go free.

That’s her code! Part of it, at least. I’m helping Nightsheet destroy Master Snoop. Maybe then he won’t take me. Stupid- he’s a winner, takes all. Even Death Angel, someday.

“Virgil,” Delia said. “I’m about to dock with Brennen Orbital. I’ll just listen and let flight control take over.”

Her image moved to a small segment of the ship’s viewscrim, superimposed in the corner of the undistorted image of a dark-skinned, dark-haired man.

“Good morning,” he said. “This is flight control. Prepare for transfer. All systems nominal, transit time approximately two hours, twenty-seven minutes. Following simulator procedures, engage checklist alpha-”

Virgil stared down at the tiny image of Delia. His face turned grim. “Goodbye, Death Angel.”

Before she could react, he pressed the glowing TRANSFER button.

The Valliardi Transfer was supposed to be instantaneous. It took only the first instant for Virgil to realize that it would last an eternity.

The tiny space in which he sat seemed to contract even more. A familiar terror gripped him. He had been through this before.

The roar! his mind screamed. It’s returning!

All other sounds vanished, consumed by the drone in his mind. Time and space tornadoed into a swirling funnel of black madness. I’m dying again, he thought, seeing his body from a million different perspectives all at once. His entire being was visible from the godlike vantage of higher dimensions.

My legs! Hands! Everything numb, unmoving. I can’t hear myself scream. Can’t breathe. The dead husk lays immobile before me. Nightsheet, you fooled me. Tricked me with treats of murder and revenge. Blackness closes in, bulkheads hyperbollix inward and outward. My eyes! They no longer see, yet I watch and watch and watch.

Time suspended its forward motion. All of space unfolded before him, the black and bejeweled petals of infinity opening like the most seductive woman.

The Universe rolls into a corridor: impossible hues of black on black. Can’t breath.

A sensation of unbelievable acceleration overcame him. His mind swam. Hear my blood not flowing, feel my heart not beating. The corridor stretches and I race through it. I’ve never gone this far before! They’ve always pulled me out. Out of the snow, out of the rocks, out of the water, the glass, the brick and pavement, out of the crushed steel and burning plastic. No one to pull me out now. Death Angel, you seduced me too well.

Still the dizzying speed pressed against something that was not his body, yet was somehow intimately part of him. Visions roiled past him, images horrific and beautiful; his mind surrendered to their power.

At the end of the corridor-Jen! Nightsheet took you and made you an agent; now you wear his deathly white robes. No, I won’t be calm. My death will never come calmly, Jen. Your death guaranteed that.

The vision said nothing, yet Virgil replied voicelessly.

Yes, I know this soothing, this roaring silence at the end. I’m soothed, but I don’t want to go. I want to join you, but I know that I can’t. Not the ways I’ve used before. We can never be together that way. I’ve seen the corridor branch away from you every time I tried my own way. This time, though-something is different about this time. No rift in the tunnel. I can reach out this time, Jen, and almost… almost…

NO!

A broad band of yellow-white stretched before him, a royal arch bigger than Earth. Below it, Saturn shone gibbous in the weak sunlight. It drifted away from him ever so slowly. As predicted, he had retained the intrinsic velocity and direction of his Earth orbit, moving tangentially to the point from which he had transferred. Saturn’s mass now acted upon the tiny spacecraft, influencing its motion through space. The thrusters switched on, compensating for the short period he would be near Saturn, maintaining the ship’s original vector so that its point of return would not endanger the crowded space around Earth.

Virgil Grissom Kinney sat very still, breathing shallowly.

Jenine was the only word that passed through his stunned mental web.

JenineJenineJenineJenineJenineJenineJenineJenine.

He gazed at Saturn. So that’s it, a thought finally broke through. That is the true death. The deaths that I chose before always split me away from Jenine. I came back because I could never reach her. I can reach her now.

Memories of another transfer suddenly surfaced as if they had always been part of him. Jord Baker couldn’t endure being wrenched back to the universe. He couldn’t abandon the ecstasy of death. I can. I’ve had to do it so many times before.

Jen. I can be with you now. Touch you for at least an instant.

Virgil’s hand trembled, then grew firm as he reached and grasped the laser locking switch. It took only a moment for the computers to find the Earth. Virgil’s hand let go of the still-crumpled piece of paper with Duolab’s coordinates. It floated, ignored, to wedge behind the seat.

Virgil switched the laser on. You lose, Death Angel. You and Nightsheet will lose on the return trip. And all the other trips I’ll be making. And you, Master Snoop: how can you keep your eyes on me when I can outrace you? I’ve won.

I am free.

He spoke into the helmet microphone. “This is Virgil Grissom Kinney calling Brennen Trust. Transfer successful. All systems functioning normally. I am returning to point of departure per coordinates. You’ll be interested, tovar Trine, in what information I have concerning Jord Baker. End transmission.” He pressed the MESSAGE REPEAT button and waited a few moments before reaching toward the TRANSFER button.

I’ll be with you soon, Delia. I’ve cracked the code.

They surround me. The Debriefers. The inquisitorial troika: Pusher, Shaker, and Wizard.

Virgil reclined in the center of the spacious auditorium. Pale white light from indirect sources bounced off the soundproof blue walls. Chairs spread out from around the stage in ranks and files like soldiers at attention. On the stage stood a dais and the royal-blue sudahyde couch that supported Kinney. The ancient hospital smell of formaldehyde drifted in from somewhere outside, mixing unpleasantly with the scent of the imitation leather.

He wore a fresh test-pilot jumpsuit, with the added accent of a dashing white silk scarf thrown round his neck and tucked jauntily into the v-neck of the partially unsealed top. His blond hair lay combed back along his scalp, every strand in place. He gave the appearance of a cool, controlled personality, which was exactly the impression Trine wanted the medical board to receive. Virgil’s silent, narrow-eyed glances, though, easily belied the image.

Delia sat in a folding chair to the left of Kinney, her executive flight suit crisp and fresh, her hair immaculately coifed and twisted around her neck. She faced the questioners with Virgil, as much on trial as he.