Crile Fisher studied the Superluminal with a frozen expression. It was the first time he had seen it, and a quick glance at Tessa Wendel made it quite plain that she was smiling with what he could only think of as proprietary pride.

It sat there in a huge cavern, inside a triple web of security barriers. There were human beings present, but most of the work force consisted of carefully computerized (nonhumanoid) robots.

Fisher had seen many spaceships in his time, and of a multiplicity of models used for a multiplicity of purposes, but he had never seen one like the Superluminal - never seen one as repulsive in appearance.

Had he seen it without knowing what it was, he might not have guessed, even, that it was a spaceship. What did he say then? On the one hand, he did not want to anger Wendel. On the other hand, she was clearly waiting for his opinion, and she just as clearly expected praise.

And so he said in a somewhat subdued voice, ‘It has an eerie kind of grace - rather wasplike.’

She had smiled at the phrase ‘eerie kind of grace,’ and Fisher felt he had chosen well. But then she said, ‘What do you mean “wasplike,” Crile?’

‘It's an insect I'm referring to,’ said Crile. ‘I know you're not aware of insects much on Adelia.’

‘We know about insects,’ said Wendel. ‘We may not have Earth's chaotic profusion-’

‘You probably don't have wasps. Stinging insects, shaped rather like-’ He pointed to the Superluminal . ‘They, too, have a large bulge in front, another bulge in back, and a narrow connecting unit.’

‘Really?’ She looked at the Superluminal with a sudden sparking of new interest. ‘Find me a picture of a wasp when you can. I might understand the ship design better in the light of the insect - or vice versa, for that matter.’

Fisher said, ‘Why the shape, then, if it wasn't inspired by the wasp?’

‘We had to find a geometry that would maximize the chance of the entire ship moving as a unit. The hyperfield has a tendency to extend outward cylindrically to infinity, actually, and you let it have its way, to some extent. On the other hand, you don't want to give in entirely. You can't, in fact, so you have to seal it off in the bulges. The field is just within the hull, maintained and enclosed by an intense and alternating electromagnetic field, and - you don't really want to hear all this, do you?’

‘Not any more, I think,’ said Fisher, smiling slightly. ‘I've heard enough. But since I'm finally allowed to see this-’

‘Now don't be hurt,’ said Wendel, putting her arm around his waist. ‘It was all strictly on a need-to-know basis. There were times when they hated having me around. They kept muttering, I imagine, about this suspicious Settler who was entirely too nosy, and wishing that I hadn't been the one who had designed the hyper-field, so they could kick me out. Now, however, things have lightened to the point where I could arrange to have you come and see it. You'll be on it eventually, after all, and I want you to admire it.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘And me.’

He looked across at her and said, ‘You know that I admire you, Tessa, without any need for anything like this.’ And he put his arm around her shoulder.

‘I'm continuing to get older, Crile,’ she said. ‘The process simply won't stop. And I'm also dismayingly satisfied with you. I've been with you seven years now, going on eight, and I haven't felt the old urge to see what other men might be like.’

Fisher said, ‘Is that a tragedy? Perhaps it's just the fact that you've been so absorbed in the project. Now that the ship is completed, you'll probably have a feeling of release, and enough time to begin hunting again.’

‘No. I haven't the urge. I just haven't. But how about you? I know I neglect you at times.’

‘It's all right. When you neglect me for your work, that suits me. I want the ship as much as you do, dear, and one nightmare is that by the time it is finally ready, you and I will be too old to be allowed on.’ He smiled again, this time with distinct ruefulness. ‘In your awareness of oncoming age, Tessa, don't forget that I, too, am no longer a lad. In less than two years, I'll be fifty. But I have a question I'm reluctant to ask for fear of disappointment, but I'm going to, anyway.’

‘Ask away.’

‘You arranged to have me see the ship, to be allowed into this holy of holies. Somehow I don't think that Koropatsky would have allowed this if the project weren't near completion. He's almost as diseased on security as Tanayama was.’

‘Yes, as far as the hyperfield is concerned, the ship is ready.’

‘Has it flown?’

‘Not yet. There are still things to do, but they don't involve the hyperfield itself.’

‘There have to be test flights, I suppose.’

‘With a crew aboard, of course. There's no way of doing it crewless and still feel that the life-support systems will work. Even animals won't give us the necessary assurance.’

‘Who will go on the first trip?’

‘Volunteers chosen from among those on the project who qualify.’

‘How about you?’

‘I'm the only one who won't be a volunteer. I must go. I could trust no-one else to make decisions in an emergency.’

‘Then I go, too?’ said Crile.

‘No, not you.’

Fisher's face instantly grew dark with anger. ‘The arrangement was-’

‘Not on the test flights, Crile.’

‘When will they be over, then?’

‘It's hard to say. It depends on what troubles may develop. If all goes as smoothly as possible, then two or three flights might suffice. A matter of months.’

‘When will the first test flight be?’

‘That I don't know, Crile. We're still working on the ship.’

‘You said it was ready to go.’

‘Yes, as far as the hyperfield is concerned. But we're installing the neuronic detectors.’

‘What are those? I never heard you mention them.’

Wendel did not answer directly. She looked around, quietly and thoughtfully, then said, ‘We're attracting attention, Crile, and I suspect that there are people here who feel nervous about your presence. Let's go home.’

Fisher did not move. ‘I take it you refuse to discuss this with me. Even though it happens to be vital to me.’

‘We'll discuss it - at home.’

Crile Fisher was restless, his fury increasing. He refused to sit down and towered over Tessa Wendel, who had shrugged and taken a seat on the white modular couch and was now looking up at him, frowning.

‘Why are you angry, Crile?’

Fisher's lips were trembling. He pressed them together and waited before answering, as though forcing himself to remain calm by sheer muscular effort.

He said finally, ‘Once a crew is made up without me, it will be a precedent. I won't ever get on. It must be understood from the beginning that I am on the ship every time until we reach the Neighbor Star - and Rotor. I don't want to be left out.’

Wendel said, ‘Why do you jump at conclusions? You won't be omitted at the crucial time. The ship isn't even ready to go yet.’

Fisher said, ‘You said the ship was ready. What are these neuronic detectors you're suddenly speaking of? It's a device to keep me quiet, to keep me distracted, and then sneak the ship away before I realize I'm left out. That's what they're doing. And you're playing along with it.’

‘Crile, you're mad. The neuronic detector is my idea, my insistence, my desire.’ She stared at him, unblinking, daring him to do something about it. ‘Your idea!’ he exploded. ‘But…’ She held out her hand as if to silence him. ‘It's something we've been working on concurrently with the ship. It's not something that falls within my expertise, but I have driven the neurophysicists onward rather mercilessly to have it. And the reason? Precisely because I want you on the ship when it leaves for the Neighbor Star. Don't you see?’ He shook his head.

‘Figure it out, Crile. You would if you weren't blind with rage for no sane reason. It's perfectly straightforward. It's a “neuronic detector”. It detects nerve activity at a distance. Complex nerve activity. In short, it detects the presence of intelligence.’

Fisher stared at her. ‘You mean what doctors use in hospitals.’

‘Of course. It's a routine tool in medicine and in psychology to detect mental disorders early on - but at meter distances. I need it at astronomical distances. It's not something new. It's something old with a vastly increased range. Crile, if Marlene's alive, she'll be on the Settlement, on Rotor. Rotor will be there, somewhere, circling the star. I told you that it would not be easy to spot. If we don't find it quickly, can we be sure that it's not there - and not that we just somehow missed it, like missing an island in the ocean or an asteroid in space? Do we just continue searching for months, or years, to make sure that we haven't just missed it, that it's really not there?’

‘And the neuronic detector-’

‘Will find Rotor for us.’

‘Won't it be just as hard to detect-’

‘No, it won't. The Universe is overrun with light and radio waves and all kinds of radiation, and we'll have to distinguish one source from a thousand others, or from a million others. It can be done, but it's not easy, and it may take time. However, to get the precise electromagnetic radiation associated with neurons in complex relationship is quite unique. We are not likely to have more than one source exactly like that - or if we do, it's because Rotor has built another Settlement. There you have it. I am as intent on finding your daughter for you as you are for finding her for yourself. And why would I do that if I weren't intent on having you on the flight with us? You'll be there.’

Fisher looked overwhelmed. ‘And you forced the entire project to do this?’

‘I have considerable power over them, Crile. And there's more to it as well. This is highly confidential; that's why I couldn't tell you at the ship.’

‘Oh? And what might that be?’

Wendel said, and there was a softness in her voice, ‘Crile, I spend more time thinking of you than you think. You don't know how strongly I want to spare you disappointment. What if we find nothing at the Neighbor Star? What if a sweep of the skies tells us definitely that there are no living intelligent life-forms anywhere in its vicinity? Do we go straight home and report that we found no sign of Rotor? Now, Crile, don't go into one of your moods. I'm not saying that failure to find intelligence at the Neighbor Star will necessarily imply that Rotor and its people have not survived.’