It was hard to believe that was only five years ago. "We've seen a lot of worlds," he said as both he and the professor leaned back again.

"Yes." Dr. Herat looked older than ever. "It's a rare privilege. I'm glad… I'm glad you're the kind of man who appreciates nature, Dr. Bequith."

Compliments from Dr. Herat were rare. Michael smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"I've never felt that you would be reluctant to accompany me on any of these jaunts," Herat went on. "Though some of them have been… well, insane."

Michael grinned. "Like Ember?"

Herat laughed. Ember was a fast-eroding planet recently swallowed by its red giant sun. Its surface was immersed in faintly glowing red fog, a single giant flame; the human settlers had dug their cities deep into the rock and there they claimed to have found artifacts of alien origin, fossilized in the limestone. Herat and Michael had joined a party of archaeologists on the surface, living in thick-walled refrigerant tanks, venturing out only by proxy using telepresence robots. Ember had strained their normally serene relationship almost to the breaking point.

"Very different from Kimpurusha," said Herat. "You've seen fire and ice, now. Something to tell your grandchildren about."

Michael nodded. "Have you heard from yours lately, sir?"

"Yes, I was meaning to tell you. Mina is buying a house! Can you believe it? She's almost thirty years old now. Still single, like you." They shared a grin; it was an old ploy of Herat's to try to marry Michael off to his granddaughter. "And Jackson's completed his second tour for the service. They're actually talking about an expedition to the galactic center, can you believe it?"

Dr. Herat sighed, looking, if possible, somewhat bewildered. Outside the blue of the sky had turned to black. The skyhook would release them soon on a trajectory to intercept the Spirit of Luna. That point of release— when they were briefly weightless— would be the moment when Michael felt he had really left Kadesh.

They talked a bit more about Dr. Herat's family, but when weightlessness came they both fell silent. This was it; the long journey from Kimpurusha might be over today. Dr. Herat had insulted his colleagues by exposing the truth they'd sought to hide for years. He was sure to pay for it. This summons away from an active research project could only mean one thing: dismissal or downgrading in the Service. Oh, Herat would never be disgraced and he would never want for work. In all likelihood, though, their next stop would be Noctis Regina, Herat's homeworld. He had a mansion and a tenured position waiting for him there and if Michael remained in his employ he would likely be housebound, with no opportunity to use his talents for discovering and capturing kami.

Michael had always felt that when the time came for them to part, it would be because Michael was being arrested because his religious activities had been found out; or because Herat was done wandering and Michael had found another way to seek out the spirits of the stars. Never had he imagined that he might lose his own faith and have nowhere to go himself once Herat retired.

The mirrored sphere of the Spirit of Luna appeared and minutes later they were pulled inside it. Gravity returned abruptly and shortly thereafter the hatch undogged itself.

The capsule stood alone in a gigantic hangar. Several uniformed men approached from the far end; one saluted. "Dr. Herat, welcome. I'm Chief Petty Officer McNeill. Here, let me take those bags, sir. We'll just run them through the scanner for you."

Michael had handed over the bags before he realized that his black market kami storage unit was in one of them. It was too late to do anything; he would just have to hope they didn't find it.

"Admiral Crisler is waiting to see you. You can visit your quarters to freshen up if you'd like…?"

Herat waved away the offer. "No, I'm fine. Here, my man can take care of my things. He'll get me settled."

"Good. If you'll come with me?" McNeill and Herat walked away, leaving Michael with several enlisted men. This was their usual pattern; the professor would do the high-level negotiating and Michael would become invisibly part of the local culture. Except in this case there was no way to fit in; he was a civilian.

One of the men ran a wand over the luggage and whistled. "Lookee here, guys. A Mark 820."

That was the offline datapack for the Shintoist AI. Michael folded his arms and watched as they zipped it out of its pocket.

"Uncle of mine had one of these," said the soldier. He hefted it and squinted at Michael. "You realize that neurasthenic storage devices are illegal, sir?"

"Yes, I do."

"Where you from?"

"Kimpurusha."

"Ah, well." Kimpurushans were reputed to be eccentric; Michael found this prejudice sometimes let him get away with things others couldn't.

"Well, I'm going to have to confiscate this, sir. Now normally I would write a report specifying exactly what it is, before we put it in storage." The soldier grinned at his friends. "If we say it's a religious AI you'll never get it back. But I could just as easily mark it down as a porno unit, which are only prohibited on military ships. Then you'd get it back on the way out."

"I see." Michael knew this game. "What would motivate you to do that?"

"Well, you see, we have absolutely no idea where in the hell we are, or where in hell this ship is going. This is unusual…" From their expressions Michael saw that it must be pretty much unheard of.

"You tell us what this sneaking is all about and I'll make sure you get this baby back safe and sound whenever we get to where ever the hell it is we're going."

Michael hesitated. These soldiers looked uneasy; was there combat happening somewhere?

"We've been out of touch," he said after a moment. "Is everything all right, back home?"

"Rebel attack on Kavya," said another of the soldiers. "The fleet's headed there."

"But we're not," said the first. "Instead we come three thousand light-years out of our way to pick up a scientist, under blackout no less. So what's it all about?"

Michael shook his head. "I… I have no idea," he said. "We thought… we thought Dr. Herat was being retired."

"Well then," said the soldier with exaggerated patience, "can you tell us what it is that your Dr. Herat studies?"

Michael felt a sinking feeling: they had been recalled for a reason that had nothing whatever to do with Dr. Herat's report.

"Aliens," he said. "Dr. Herat hunts aliens."

"B EQUITH, GET UP here!" Dr. Herat's voice sprang out of nowhere. It was the emergency inscape channel they'd established years ago and rarely used. The soldiers shouldn't be able to intercept it. They were still mulling over Michael's statement.

"Dr. Herat wanted me to join him as soon as possible," he said. "About that…?" He pointed to the AI.

"You haven't given us anything yet," said the soldier.

"I'll tell you what I find out," he said. It was a small price to pay to keep the AI.

"Good on ya." The soldier stuffed the AI into a black case. "Just dial 4330 to get me. Nice doing business with you."

"Right. Now where…?"

"There's only one way to go," said another of the soldiers. "You'll see."

Michael did see. The military neuro interface had effectively taken over his inscape sensorium and it laid its own version of the ship over his vision. He knew there were side corridors and doors because every now and then he saw someone walk out of what looked like a wall; but the edited view of the place he saw had only those doors and stairs that took him in the direction of whatever briefing room they wanted him in. It was disconcerting and he had no idea how far the illusion went; the walls and ceiling themselves might not be real. The eeriness of the effect added to his apprehension.