From his angle near the washroom door, the omega seemed to be closing in on his sofa-bed. “Marlene,” he said, calling up the AI.

“Dr. Collingdale?”

“Connect me with the Academy. Science and Technology. Their headquarters in Arlington. Audio only. I want to talk with Priscilla Hutchins.”

Her whiskey voice informed him that the connection had been made and a young woman’s voice responded. “Can I help you, Dr. Collingdale?”

“Director of operations, please.”

“She’s not available at the moment. Is there someone else you wish to speak with?”

“Please let her know I called.” He sat down on the bed and stared at the cloud. It blinked off, and was replaced by a scattering of lights. The cities by night.

“—any idea what we’re looking at?” the interviewer asked.

“Not yet. These are, I believe, the first pictures.”

“And this is where?”

“The third planet—just like us—of a star that has only a catalog number.”

“How far is it?”

“A bit more than three thousand light-years.”

“That sounds pretty far.”

“Oh, yes. That’s about as far out as we’ve gone. I’d venture to say the only reason we’re there now is because somebody spotted the cloud moving.”

Collingdale’s line blinked. He took it in his sitting room. “Dave.” Hutch materialized standing on the throw rug. She was framed by a closet door and a plaque awarded him by the Hamburg Institute. “It’s good to hear from you. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” he said. “The job pays well, and I like the work.” Her black hair was shorter than it had been the last time he’d seen her. Her eyes were dark and intelligent, and she obviously enjoyed being an authority figure. “I see things are happening.”

She nodded. “A living civilization, Dave. For the time being. We released it this morning.”

“How long have you known?”

“We got the news two days ago, but we’ve suspected it for a while now.”

“Well,” he said, unsure how to get where he wanted to go, “congratulations. I assume there’s a major celebration going on down there.”

“Not exactly.”

No, of course not. Not with a cloud closing in on somebody. “What kind is it?” he asked, referring to the type of civilization.

“Green deuce.”

Nontechnological. Agricultural. But organized into cities. Think eastern Mediterranean, maybe four thousand years ago. “Well,” he said, “I’m delighted to hear it. I know there’ll be some complications, but it’s a magnificent discovery. Who’s getting the credit?”

“Looks like a technician at Broadside. And Jack Markover on the Jenkins.”

That was a surprise. In the old days, it would have been someone higher up the chain. “The cloud led you to it?”

“Yes.” She looked discouraged.

“They’re saying December on the HV.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to try to do anything for them? For the inhabitants?”

“We’re putting together a mission.”

“Good. I thought you would. Do you have anything going, anything that can take out the cloud?”

“No.”

Yeah. That’s what makes it all such a bitch. “What are you going to try to do? What’s the point of the mission?”

“We’ll decoy it. If we can.”

“How?”

“Projections. If that doesn’t work, a kite.” She allowed herself a smile.

“A kite?” He couldn’t suppress a grin himself.

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

“Ask me in nine months.” She tilted her head and her expression changed. Became more personal. “Dave, what can I do for you?”

He was trembling. The smartest thing he could do, the only thing he could do, was to stay out of it. The mission, round trip, would take close to two years. And it was likely to fail. When it did, he would be happily married to Mary. “When are they leaving?”

“A few days. They’ll be on their way as soon as we can get everybody on board.”

“They won’t have much time after they get there.”

“We figure about ten days.”

“Who’s running it?”

“We’re still looking at the applications.”

He ran over a few names in his memory, thought he knew who’d be trying to get on board. Couldn’t think of anyone with better qualifications than he. “What happens if the decoy doesn’t work?”

“We have some other ideas.”

Decision time. “Hutch—” he said.

She waited.

Two years away. Mary Clank, farewell.

“Yes, Dave?” she prompted.

“I’d like to go.”

She smiled at him, the way people do when they think you’re kidding. “I understood you were pretty well settled.”

“I’d like to do this, Hutch. If you can see your way clear.”

“I’ll add your name to the candidates’ lists.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’d consider it a personal favor.”

She turned away momentarily and nodded to someone out of the picture. “Dave, I can’t promise.”

“I know. What kind of creatures are they?”

She vanished and a different image appeared, an awkward, roundish humanoid that looked like something out of a Thanksgiving parade. Complete with vacuous eyes and a silly grin. Baggy pants, floppy shoes, bilious shirt. Round, polished skull. No hair save for eyebrows. Long thin ears. Almost elfin. They were the saving grace in an otherwise comic physiognomy.

“You’re kidding,” he said.

“No. This is what they look like.”

He laughed. “How many of them are there?”

“Not many. They all seem to be concentrated in a group of cities along a seacoast.” Again, something off to the side distracted her. “Dave,” she said, “I have to go. It was good to talk with you. I’ll get back within twenty-four hours. Let you know, up or down.”

HE HAD LUNCH with Mary, and she knew something had happened. They were in the UC faculty lounge, he with only twenty minutes before he was due to conduct a seminar, she with an hour to spare. His intention had been to say nothing until he had the decision from the Academy. But she sat there behind a grilled cheese and looked into him and waited for him to explain what was going on.

So he did, although he made it sound, without actually lying, as if Hutch had called him and asked whether he was available.

“They might pick somebody else,” he concluded. “There’s a lot at stake. It would be hard to say no.”

She looked back at him with those soft blue eyes, and he wondered whether he had lost his mind. “I understand,” she said.

“I don’t really have a choice in something like this, Mary. There’s too much riding on it.”

“It’s okay. You have to do what you think is right.” Steel in the ribs.

“I’m sorry. The timing isn’t very good, is it?”

“You’ll be gone two years, you say?”

“If I get picked, it would be closer to a year and a half.” He tried a smile but it didn’t work. “If it happens, I can probably arrange space for you. If you’d want to come.”

She nibbled at the sandwich. Considered it. He saw her wrestle with it. Saw those eyes harden. “Dave, I’d like to, but I can’t just take two years off.”

“It wouldn’t be two years.”

“Close enough. It would wreck my career.” She was an instructor in the law school. There was a tear. But she cleared her throat. “No. I just can’t do it.” And there was a message there somewhere, in her voice, in her expression. I’m yours if you want me. But don’t expect me to hang around.

In that moment, filled with the smell of fresh-brewed coffee and cinnamon, he hoped that Hutch would pass over him, pick someone else. But he also understood he’d driven a spike into his relationship with Mary, that whatever happened now, things would never again be right.

HUTCH CALLED THAT night. “You still want to go?”

“When do we leave?”

“A week from tomorrow.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“I’m attaching a folder. It has all the information on the mission. Who’ll be there. What we plan to do. If you have any ideas, get back to me.”

“I will.”

“Welcome aboard, David.”

“Thank you. And, Hutch—”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for the assignment.”

He signed off and looked out across the lake. He lived on the North Shore. Nice place, really. Hated to leave it. But he’d already arranged to sublet.

ARCHIVE

Jack, for planning purposes, we will assume that we’ll be unable to stop the cloud. The cloud will target the cities. See if you can come up with a way to move the population out into the country, preferably to higher ground, since they’re all vulnerable to the ocean. We are going to try to master their language. To that end, we need recordings. Raw data should be forwarded to the Khalifa al-Jahani as soon as it becomes available.

Anything you can do without compromising the Protocol will help. I’m informed you don’t have lightbenders. We’re sending a shipment from Broadside, but I’d be grateful if you didn’t wait for their arrival to get started. Find a way to make things happen. Everyone here understands the difficulty that implies. Therefore, be advised that your primary objective is to get the job done. If it becomes necessary to set the Protocol aside, this constitutes your authority to do so.

We also need you to collect and run analyses of food samples. Forward any information you can get. What do they eat? Fruit, pizza, whatever. Any other data that might help us get them through this.

Time is of the essence. In view of the lag between Lookout and your other points of contact, you are free to use discretion.

— P. M. Hutchins

Director, Operations

March 6, 2234

Arlington.

Friday, March 7.

HUTCH FOUND A note on her desk, requesting she report to the commissioner’s office immediately on arrival. She found him packing. “Heading for Geneva,” he said. “Right after the memorial service.”

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“Political stuff. But they want me there. You’ll be acting the rest of the week.”

“Okay.”

He looked at her. “That’s it,” he said.

“No special instructions?”

“No. Just use your best judgment.”

SHE’D BEEN HIT hard by the loss of Jane Collins and Terry Drafts. Hutch had known both, had partied with Jane and risked her neck with Terry. Standing on the lawn by the Morning Pool, listening to the tributes, she couldn’t get the notion out of her head that both would show up, walk into the middle of things, and announce it was all a mistake. Maybe if they had found the bodies, it would have been easier.