When the last of those who wished to speak had finished, Dick Wald asked if there were anyone else. Instinctively, Hutch shied away from public appearances. But she could not do that today. Not knowing what she would say, she strode to the platform, and turned to face the crowd. Many knew her, and she heard a smattering of applause.

She groped for the right words. "I'd just like to say," she said, "that he was always good to work for." She paused. The sky was clear and blue and very far away. "He died doing what he believed in. He died, I think, the way he would have wanted." She looked around desperately, and wished for divine intervention. Her mind had gone blank. Reflexively, she took hold of the talisman, and drew it out into the sunlight. "Love and prosperity," she said. "He gave me this. Its inscription, in one of the Quraquat languages, says love and prosperity will be mine while I wear it. Actually, they were mine as long as I knew him."

Later, she said hello to Dick. He told her Richard had spoken of her often. Up close, his resemblance to Richard was striking. And there was a trick of speech, a tendency to draw out r's in the manner of Bostonians, that they shared. She could have closed her eyes and believed he was back.

The Academy was out in force. Henry showed up, an act that must have taken considerable courage because a lot of people, including Hutch, blamed him for Richard's death. He had aged during the few months since their return. His face was gray in the dull light, and he walked uncertainly.

"How are you?" Hutch asked, offering her hand.

He took it, but his grasp was perfunctory. "Good," he said. "It's nice to see you, Hutch." His eyes traveled between her and the speakers' platform, which was now empty. "I would have preferred better circumstances."

An awkward silence followed. Hutch knew a reprimand was in the works for Henry. The whole world knew it. He had announced his retirement, and he faced the prospect of becoming the central figure in a landmark legal dispute over the issue of court jurisdiction beyond the solar system.

"I didn't thank you, by the way," he said, "for everything you did."

"I was glad to help," she said.

"I wish things could have turned out better." He was backing away from her, anxious to be gone. "Me, too," she said weakly.

Princeton

Saturday, Nov. 27, 2202 Dear Priscilla,

Just a word to let you know that Cal Hartlett got married today. I know we've had this conversation before, and I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but there's another good one you could have had. That boy idolized you. I've met the bride and she's pretty, but she isn't in your league.

Please think about the future. We're not getting any younger.

Mom

Hutch put her feet up on the hassock, sipped her coffee, and stared out over the rock plain. She was well away from the edge this time, and Shola was off to the right. Although the gas giant dominated the sky, its light was dim. Overhead, there were no stars. She was looking directly into the Void. Look hard enough, long enough, and one could see the other side, the distant flicker of the Sagittarius Arm.

The coffee tasted good.

Portland, Oregon Monday, Nov. 29, 2202 Dear Ms. Hutchins,

The enclosed holo arrived here several weeks ago, before you got back from Quraaua. In fact, it came before I'd heard about Richard's death. I haven't been certain who to send it to, and I thought you would know. I thought somebody at the Academy might have some interest in it. Best wishes.

Dick Wald

(ENCLOSURE)

DOWNLINK HOLD Leader marked "PERSONAL FOR RICHARD WALD"

David Emory in a field office. "Richard," he says, "It's ironic that you would have been asking about this just a few days ago. We have found Orikon. I thought you'd like to hear what we have, but please keep it to yourself until we publish.

"We've known for some time that the ruins were located under a modem city, where they were not accessible to direct investigation. Or, more accurately, I've known, but since we couldn't get an actual physical piece for dating purposes, there was no way to prove anything.

"The scanners showed a metal circumference around the ruins, with lines jutting off. Theory was that it was a defensive structure of one kind or another." He takes a chair, and crosses his arms over his chest, quite satisfied with the direction events have taken. "This world is subject to enormous tides, because of its proximity to the Companion. There are sea walls here now, to restrain the ocean. But these structures are recent.

"Orikon was located on a cluster of islands which are now hilltops. At low tide, they looked out over swamps. So the question always was: how, under such circumstances, could the inhabitants travel from one section of the city to another? This is no small feat, by the way. We are talking about islands spread over twelve hundred square kilometers. Furthermore, how did they maintain access to an ocean when they had to travel over ground that was sometimes a sea and sometimes a swamp?

"The solution: they had a monorail. This is mountainous country, and we went looking on some of the peaks for evidence. Yesterday we found it: a piece of concrete bolted into the side of a precipice. We now have other evidence as well. They seem to have thrived between 18,000 and 16,000 B.C. So it turns out civilization is three times older here than we thought.

"Orikon lives, Richard."

Henry removed the helmet. Sunlight warmed the room. Hutch looked out at the Morning Pool, the Ivers Museum, elta Park, and, in the distance, the Washington Monument.

"Good of you to bring it by," he said. "May I make a copy?"

"Of course." She waited for a sign that he agreed with her assessment of its significance.

"Well." He folded his arms and pushed back comfortably. "How is everything with you?"

"Fine," she said.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. "You seem tense."

"Henry, you don't seem surprised."

His leathery face did not change. "What surprises you, Hutch?"

"We've got a second discontinuity on Nok. Two on each world. That makes a trend."

Henry studied her across the broad expanse of his desk. The office was big, crowded with mementoes of his career. "You're assuming that Orikon suffered one of these events."

"Of course. How else would you explain the disappearance of a civilization capable of building a monorail?"

"We aren't talking about established facts, Hutch. We are fully aware of events on Nok. You should be aware that Emory has a tendency to jump to conclusions. However, there is a curious coincidence. He says the most recent artifacts are from about 16,000 B.C." He looked at her expectantly.

She didn't see the point.

"The events on Quraqua," Henry said, "were divided by eight thousand years."

"— And on Nok by sixteen thousand. Twice as long. But what does that suggest?"

He shrugged. "Multiples of eight. For whatever significance that might have." He looked old; his movements were stiff and seemed to require conscious effort.

"Multiples of eight? Would we know if there'd been an event on Nok around 8000 B.C.?"

"Probably not. The current cycle of civilization got started three thousand years later." He studied the top of his desk. "I have no problems with a coincidence. One coincidence."

"What's the other?"

"The resemblance between Oz and the cube moons."

"So what do we do now?"

"/ retire," he said. "And hope I have some money left after the lawyers get finished with me."

"Henry, you can't just walk out—"

"I sure as hell can just walk out. Listen—" His face reddened and he leaned across the desk. "Do you have any idea what all this means to me? I'm about to be drummed out. Blamed for the death of an old friend." His lip quivered. "And God help me, maybe they're right."