Perchevski had spent eight years in Academy, glimpsing the outside universe only rarely. Passes had been few in his day. Going out usually meant having to take part in some very active training exercise. There had been no time left over for sightseeing.

He was supposed to have graduated as a dedicated, unquestioning Confederation warrior. He supposed even the best systems made mistakes.

He enjoyed his venture into the old, familiar halls, remembering incidents, recalling classmates he had not thought of in years. He was amused by all the bright, freshly scrubbed young faces behind those snappy salutes.

Greta's battalion was quartered not far from the barracks his own had occupied. He spent an hour ambling through school days memories.

It was late when he located the officer of Greta's Training Battalion. The date-letter designation on the door could be interpreted to tell that Greta's was the forty-third officer candidate unit activated in 3047. He whistled softly. They were taking candidates at a wartime rate.

There must be something to the rumors.

Nothing else would explain why Greta had been assigned to an officer training unit almost instantaneously.

A rating was closing the office. "You the officer looking for the Helsung girl?"

"Yes, Chief. Sorry I'm late."

The petty officer muttered something sarcastic.

"That attitude going to relay itself to the middies, Chief?"

"Sorry, sir. It's been a bad day."

"Where can I find her?"

"Alpha Company. Room Twenty-five. We're just starting the battalion, sir. It's one of your remedials, for candidates without a Service background."

"Thanks, Chief. Go ahead and close up. Ill only stay a few minutes."

Perchevski entered the barracks block. Generations of midshipmen had passed through it. The air was heavy with age. And human scent. He found A Corridor and followed it, glancing at the name tags on the cubicle doors. He located helsung, greta: hamburg, earth, paired with james, leslie from someplace on Sierra called Token Offering. No one answered his knock.

He followed the noise of a holoset on to the company commons. Some twenty youngsters were watching holo or playing games without enthusiasm. Homesickness thickened the air.

Greta sat in a vinyl-covered armchair. She had heels pulled up against her behind. Her arm embraced her knees. She had an air of infinite sadness, of unspeakable loneliness.

A ten-year-old with a boarding school voice snapped, " 'Ten-shut!"

"As you were, people."

Greta hurled herself at him. She flung her arms around his neck. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"Easy, girl. Don't break anything." He felt better about himself suddenly. It was great to have someone glad to see him.

"How come you're here? I thought you were going to see your mother?"

"I did. We were both disappointed."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I didn't expect much. Come on. Sit down. How's it going? What do you think of the moon?"

"I haven't seen anything yet. Everything's bigger than I thought it would be. What's happening back home?"

"Nothing new. Homesick?"

She shook her head.

"Fibber. I was here too, remember? And I still get homesick. That's why I go back sometimes. Of course, I came up with Neil Armstrong... "

"Don't tease me."

"All right. Tell you what. I talked to your company commander... "

"Old Greasy Hair? I hate him already."

Perchevski laughed. "You'll hate him a lot more before you're done. He's going to be your father, mother, priest, god, and devil. Look, do you want to see the rest of the moon? You won't have a chance after classes start."

"Don't you have something better to do? You've got your job, and your own friends... "

"I'm on vacation. Sort of. And I don't have many friends here."

"I don't want to put you out." A skinny little black girl with pigtailed hair, wearing a ragged woolen smock, was staring at them. "Oh. Leslie. Come here. This is Leslie James, Commander. My roommate."

"Hi, Les. Where is Token Offering? I visited Sierra once, but I don't remember it."

The girl said something into a mouth full of fingers and retreated.

"She's shy," Greta said. "Her parents must be dead. She came from an orphanage."

"We're all orphans, one way or another. Navy is our family."

Greta looked at him oddly. Then, "Can we take her with us if we go?"

"Uhm. You're starting to understand already. I don't know. It might be complicated. I'll ask if you want."

"I think so."

"Okay. I'd better go. It's past visiting hours. I just wanted to see how you were. I'll be back tomorrow."

She squeezed his hand. "Thank you. For everything." Her hands were soft and smooth and warm.

He spent the evening entertaining fantasies he would never pursue.

The inside man never ages. He spends the rest of his life in love with the soft, smooth, warm girls he knew when he was young and just becoming aware of what marvelous creatures females are.

"Where do you want to go, girls?" They were at Academy Station. Perchevski was watching Greta try to people-watch without being offensive. Oddly uniformed folks surrounded them.

"I don't know," Greta replied.

Luna Command was no sightseer's paradise. It had no spectacular ruins or monuments. The real sights were outside, the mountains and craters of the surface.

He took the girls to Tycho Dome and for a ride on one of the surface trains. He treated them to the best restaurants and hotels. Greta's response was gratifying, Leslie's remote.

He ran out of ideas after two days. All but the alien digs, and he had promised those to Max.

Max could take the pressure off. She would have ideas... He took the girls to her shop.

"Hello, Walter," Max said. Her voice was chilly. She stared at Greta. Greta did not notice. She was engrossed in the showcases.

"Hi, Lady. Anything for me?"

"Same old stuff. Is that what you've been doing since you got back?"

"Come on, Max! She's sixteen. Greta, come here. I want you to meet Max. Max, Greta Helsung and her friend Leslie."

Greta was not imperceptive. "Hi, Max. The Commander is my sponsor."

"Your sponsor? You never told me you had a kid, Walter."

"I'm a man of mystery, Love."

"How come she calls you Walter? Your name is Cornelius."

"Because he's a man of mystery, dear," Max replied. "Everybody has a different name for him. He's some kind of spy. I don't think he knows his real name himself."

"Max... "

"Wow! Really?"

"Yes. Really. Max, you talk too much. I came here to see if you still wanted to go to the Farside dig."

Someone entered the shop behind him. Max said hello.

"Hi, tall, blonde, and desirable. Thomas? Is that you? What the hell are you doing here?"

Perchevski turned.

Mouse had come in. He gave Greta an admiring once-over. "That's right. You know Max, don't you? Max, I really want that Manchurian collection, but you're going to have to come down on it. It's just not worth twelve thousand."

"I can see what you want. Hands off. She's your buddy's kid. And I can get fifteen if I send it out to Amonhotep." To Greta she explained, "This is one of your old man's buddies. He's a spy too."

Perchevski shook his head. "She's in a Roman candle mood today, Mouse. I come in to ask her out and she plays mad dog with me. I didn't know you were a collector."

"Lot of things we don't know about each other." That seemed to close the subject.

"Mouse and I were in the same battalion in Academy," Perchevski told Greta.

Mouse gave the girl another admiring look. She moved closer to Perchevski, as if feeling for a protective shadow. Mouse smiled gently and resumed arguing with Max.

Perchevski wondered how he could demonstrate, to her satisfaction, that she was not in competition with inconquerable youth.