“You, Hutch. You found the first cloud. You and Frank Carson and the others. Incidentally, someone told me you actually did the math. It was you who figured it all out. Is that true?”

“Yes,” she said.

“And you’re the woman from Deepsix. The woman who rescued her husband from that antique starship, the, what did you call it?”

“The chindi. But he wasn’t my husband then.”

“No matter. The point is you’ve been in the public eye for quite some time.” She was back in her seat, leaning toward Hutch, old friends who had been in combat together. “Hutch, I need you.”

“To—?”

“—become the public persona of the Omega Society.”

Well, it didn’t take a mathematician to figure out what the Omega Society was going to be doing. “Why don’t you do it, Alva? You’re a bit better known than I am.” She managed a weak smile.

“I’m the wrong person.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m associated with charities. With medical care. Nobody’s going to take me seriously when I start talking about long-range destruction. You aren’t taking me seriously and yet you know I’m right and I’m sitting in the same room with you.”

“No, that’s not true,” said Hutch. “I’m taking you seriously.”

The woman had an infectious smile. She turned it on Hutch, who bathed in its warmth and suddenly realized the secret of her success. The mental agility, the worthiness of her causes, her single-mindedness, none of it would have mattered without that pure living charm. Nobody ever says no to me. Nobody turns away. This is the moment of decision.

“I’d stay in the background, of course,” she said. “Board of directors stuff. But I’d be there if needed. We’d have a couple of major league scientific people out front to direct things, to run the organization. To provide the muscle. But you would be its face. Its voice.”

Alva was right. In a moment of startling clarity Hutch saw the centuries slipping away while the cloud drew closer. Not our problem. There’ll be a breakthrough. Don’t worry. How many times had she heard that already? But there probably wouldn’t be. Not without a concerted effort. And maybe there was a window that might close. There’d been talk of an all-out program when we’d first learned about the clouds. But when the initial shock wore off, and people began thinking how far away the thirty-second century was. Well, it was like worrying about the sun exhausting its fuel.

If she accepted, Hutch would have to give up all claim to being taken seriously ever again. The few who worried about the omegas, even if they were backed by Alva, provided the material for late-night comedians. They were greeted in academic circles with amused smiles and people shaking their heads. And she’d be out front.

Alva saw she was reluctant. “Before you answer,” she said, “I want to remind you that the public knows you’re a hero. You’ve put yourself at risk on several occasions, and you’ve saved a few lives. You’ve gotten credit for your acts.” The Academy’s Johanssen Award, which she’d received after Deepsix, hung on one wall. Other plaques commemorated her accomplishments at the Twins and in the rescue of her husband. And, of course, there’d been the sim, in which Hutch had been portrayed by the smoky-voiced, statuesque Ivy Kramer. “This time,” Alva continued, “there’ll be no credit and no applause. No sim and probably no books. No one will ever really know what you’ve accomplished, because you’ll have saved a world that’s quite far away. And we do have short memories. You have a heroic past, Hutch. But this time, there isn’t just one life, or a few lives, in the balance. Unless people like you come forward and act, we’re all going the same way as the Monument-Makers.”

The silence between them stretched out. The room seemed unsteady. “I’m sorry,” said Hutch at last. “But I can’t do this. It would involve a conflict of interest.”

Don’t look at me like that. It’s true.

“My obligations to the Academy—I can’t take up a cause like this and keep my job here. There’s no way I can do it.”

“We have adequate funding, Hutch. I’m sure you would find the compensation sufficient.”

“I really can’t do it,” said Hutch. “I have responsibilities here.”

Alva nodded. Sure. Of course you do. How could I not have seen it? Perhaps I misjudged you.

She gave Hutch time to reconsider her decision. Then she rose, and a business card appeared in her hand. “If you change your mind,” she said, holding it out for her.

“I won’t,” said Hutch. “But I thank you for asking.” And how hollow did that sound?

“I appreciate your hearing me out. I know you’re a busy woman.” Her gaze dissected Hutch and found her wanting. Not who I thought you were, it appears. Then she was gone, leaving Hutch with a feeling of rejection as overwhelming as any lover could have engendered.

THE TRANSMISSION THAT had come in during the interview was from Broadside, the newest of the deep-space bases maintained by the Academy. At a distance of more than three thousand light-years, it was three times as far as Serenity, which had for years been the most remote permanent penetration. Its operational chief was Vadim Dolinsk, an easygoing former pilot who was past retirement age but for whom she’d bent the rules because he was the right man for the job.

Vadim was seated at his desk, and his usual blasé expression had lengthened into a frown. “Hutch,” he said, “we’re getting a reading on one of the clouds. It’s changing course.”

Hutch was suddenly aware of the room. Of the cone of light projecting down from the desk lamp, of the flow of warm air from the vents, of someone laughing outside in the corridor.

Ironic that this would happen on the day that Alva had asked for help and Hutch had brushed her aside. Even Alva had not seen the real danger, the immediate danger. A few years ago, one of the clouds had drifted through the Moonlight system, had spotted the ruins on the fourth world, and had gone after them like a tiger after a buck. What would have happened had they been populated? Millions would have died while the Academy watched, appropriately aghast, unable to help. In the end, they would have shaken their heads, made some philosophical remarks, and gone back to work.

Within the next ten years, clouds would approach seven planetary systems that the Academy knew about. All were presumed empty, because virtually all systems were empty. But who could be sure? The systems in question were outside the range of finances rather than technology, so she simply didn’t know.

“Data’s attached,” Vadim continued. “I’ve diverted the Jenkins to take a look. They were about to start home, so they won’t be happy. But I think this is too important to let slide. I’ll notify you when I have more.

“How’s life in Woodbridge these days?”

Not as good as it was an hour ago.

She looked at the numbers. The cloud in question was another five hundred light-years beyond Broadside. It was approaching a class-G sun known to have three gas giants, but that was all that was known about the system. The star was located in the direction of the Dumbbell Nebula.

There were images of the cloud, and she recognized the streamers exploding away from it, trying to continue along the original course while the cloud turned a few degrees onto a new vector.

It had spotted something.

NEWSDESK

MOB CHIEF ASSASSINATED IN PHILLY

Hobson Still Insists There Is No Mob

SALUTEX CEO INDICTED FOR INSIDER TRADING

McBrady Could Face Ten Years

MIRROR STRAIN SPREADING IN CENTRAL AMERICA

Dr. Alva Headed for Managua

Outbound Flights Halted

ECONOMY WORSENS

Recession Is Now Official

DEMONSTRATORS OUT IN FORCE AT POSTCOMM SUMMIT

Morrison Has No Sympathy

“They’re Against Us, but They Have No Suggestions”

WASHINGTON AREA VOLCANO BECOMING ACTIVE AGAIN?

Disaster Center Issues Warning

ARAB PACT DEMANDS REPARATIONS

Claim Oil Supplies Sold At Fraction of Value To Keep West Afloat

Al-Kabarah: “Without Our Sacrifice, the World Would Still Be in the 18th Century”

IS THERE REALLY A MULTIVERSE?

Gunderson Proposes Hunt for White Hole

“It’s Out There Somewhere”

SYRACUSE COPS ARRESTED IN LIGHTBENDER CASE

ACLU Will File Suit To Ban Invisibility

TIME TRAVEL MAY BE POSSIBLE

Technitron Claims to Have Sent Stop Watch Forward Ten Seconds

Hoax or Error, Say Most Experts

GIANTS FAVORED IN TITLE GAME

Jamieson Says He Is Okay to Play

On board the Peter Quagmor, near the Bumblebee Nebula.

Sunday, February 23.

THE ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE in all Academy ships had been given the name Bill. His demeanor, and his appearance, tended to change from vessel to vessel, depending on his relationship with the captain. Whatever seemed to work with a given personality type, under whatever local circumstances might prevail. He could be paternal in the best sense, quarrelsome, sympathetic, persistent, quiet, even moody. Bill was sometimes a young and energetic companion, sometimes a gray eminence.

The Quagmor’s version reminded Terry Drafts of his garrulous and mildly ineffectual uncle Clete. The AI took everything very seriously, and seemed a bit on the frivolous side. Terry had been asleep when Bill got him up and asked him to come to the bridge. Jane was waiting.

“What is it?” Terry Drafts was the most senior physicist on the Academy staff among those who had worked actively at trying to solve the various problems associated with the omega clouds. He had been with the Frank Carson group during the initial encounter, had watched that first cloud attack the decoy shapes that Carson had set out for it on the lifeless world now celebrated as Delta.

Terry had been so entranced by what he’d seen that he had dedicated his life to the omegas. He’d appeared before Congress, had done interviews, had written the definitive account, Omega, which had caused a brief stir, all in the hope of rallying public opinion.

But the problem was almost a thousand years away, and he’d never been able to get past that. In the end, he’d given up, and settled for spending his time on monitoring missions. It was Terry who’d discovered that the clouds incorporated nanotechnology, who’d theorized that they manipulated gravity to navigate, that their primary purpose was something other than the destruction of cities. “Horribly inefficient if that’s what they’re supposed to do,” he’d argued in Omega. “Ninety-nine point nine percent of the things never see a civilization. They’re something else—”